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T H E H U A O R A N I OF A M A Z O N I A N E C U A D O R
306.0
R521t
Laura M. Rival
T rek k in g T h ro u g h H isto ry
V
T H E H IS T O R IC A L E C O L O G Y S E R IE S
T H E H IS T O R IC A L E C O L O G Y S E R IE S
T his series explores the complex links between people and landscapes. Indi
viduals and societies impact and change their environments, and they are in
turn changed b y their surroundings. D ra w in g on scientific and hum anistic
scholarship, books in the series focus on environm ental understanding and on
temporal and spatial change. T h e series explores issues and develops concepts
that help to preserve ecological experiences and hopes to derive lessons for today
from other places and times.
T h e Historical E co lo gy Series
T rekkin g T h r o u g h H is to r y
TH E H U A O R A N I OF A M A Z O N IA N ECU AD O R
f l a c s o - b ib l io t e c a
C O L U M B IA U N IV E R S IT Y P R E S S Mfci N ew Y o rk
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Copyright © 2002 Columbia University Press
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E1ELI0TECA -FLACSO
T o fe/i, m y little d a u g h te r
O n connaît m ieu x la pen sée des sociétés q u e le u r corps.
----- A N D R É L E R O I - G O U R H A N
C on ten ts
Illustrations a n d Tables x i
Preface x iii
Acknowledgm ents x x i
Note on O rthography x x iii
1 Trekking in A m azonia I
Cross-Cultural Generalizations A bout A m azonian Societies 3
Amazon Trekkers 15
8 Prey at the C e n te r 17 7
Notes iSp
References 2 1$
Index 239
Illu stration s a n d Tables
Maps
pre f . i Huaorani territory in Ecuador xv
pre f . 2. Huaorani settlements in the old Protectorate in 1990 xvii
pre f . 3 Settlements in Huaorani territory in 1996 xviii
2 .1 Location o f m ajor ethnic groups in the U p p er N ap o region after the
conquest and during the sixteenth cen tu ry 24
2.2 Post-Conquest location o f major ethnic grou p s in thé Upper N ap o
region 25
2.3 Location o f indigenous groups in the U p p e r N ap o region during the
rubber boom 26
2.4 Pre-Colum bian Tupi migrations in the U p p er N ap o region 28
3.1 Endogamous nexi in 1956 61
Figures
5.1 Location and com position o f the two fo u n d in g nanicaboiri, Q uehueire
Ono (Decem ber 1989) 96
5.2 Dravidian nom enclature 113
5.3 Huaorani nom enclature 113
5.4 Huaorani kin terms 114
5.5 Huaorani nom enclature with kin term s 114
5.6 Huaorani pronom inal system 117
Photographs
1 Children o n a forest trek
2 Husband and w ife hunting with a b low pipe
3 Huaorani m an w ith chonta
4 Tree-walking through the forest
5 Food sharing in the longhouse
6 Huaponi quehuem oni (We live well)
7 Father and son
8 Mothering, singing, and weaving
9 Tonampari, the largest school village (1990)
10 School drills in Q uihuaro
11 Pipeline along the via Auca
12 O il fields in the heart o f Huaorani land
x ii Illustrations and Tables
Tables
4 .1 Extractive activities carried in Quehueire O no
in N ovem ber—D ecem ber 1989 72
4.2. Com parison o f com m on names, scientific nam es, and Huaorani names
as m entioned in Table 4.1 74
5.1 Com parison o f m arriage alliances in five com m unities 120
P r e fa ce
know n prim arily by false and distorted myths w h ich present their culture through
the eyes o f those seeking to convert it and subvert it.” I hope this study w ill con
vince the reader that despite the “civilizing” efforts o f missionaries and sch o ol
teachers, the Huaorani have largely retained their distinctive way o f apprehendin g
the world.
Approxim ately fourteen hundred, today, with 55 percent o f the population under
sixteen (compared to a population o f under six hundred when first sur
veyed in the early 1960s), H uaorani people have lived as forest trekkers in the
heart o f the Ecuadorian A m azon for hundreds o f years (see maps pref.i and pref.2).
M ore foragers than gardeners, they traditionally cultivate garden crops rud im entally
and sporadically for the preparation o f cerem onial drinks, while securing th eir d aily
subsistence through hu ntin g and gathering. Fo rm erly called Aucas’, the H u ao ran i
have been confused w ith the Zaparo and Aushiri In dian s, and very little is know n
about their past. T h e core o f their ancestral territory was the Tiputini R iver, from
w here they expanded, in the aftermath o f the ru b ber boom , east, west, and sou th
w ard, until they occupied m ost o f the hinterlands between the N apo and the
C uraray rivers, from the A ndean foothills to the Peruvian border (see m ap p re f.i).3
Like much ofW estern A m azonian rain forest, H uaorani land has no m arked sea
sons. Annual precipitation, averaging 3 ,5 0 0 m m ( 1 2 0 in.), is evenly distributed
throughout the year. A tm ospheric hum idity ( 8 0 to 9 0 percent) is constant, and
soils, renowned as the least fertile in Ecuador, p erm anently damp. D u rin g field
w ork, I found the contrast between June—Ju ly — supposedly the wettest m onths o f
the year— and N ovem ber—D ecem ber— supposedly the driest— hardly noticeable,
and, given the relatively high rainfall averages, seasons almost nonexistent. W h at
was striking, however, was the sharp fall in tem perature after heavy rains, w hen it
felt as cold as during the coldest nights (around I 3 ° C ) . A nd so was the d ram atic
transformation, after a heavy downpour, o f the riverine landscape into a vast, deso
late marshland. O n the western side o f H u aoran i land, numerous stream s and
creeks cut across rugged terrain featuring sizable hills to form the C uraray’s head
water. O n the eastern side, rivers meander th rou gh m arshy lowlands. G a m e is
abundant and biodiversity exceptionally high. B o th the density o f palms and bam
boo groves and the frequency o f potsherds and stone axes suggest that large tracks
o f forest are anthropogenic, that is, transformed b y past human activities.
In 1969, a decade after h aving “pacified” the H u ao ran i, the Sum m er In stitute o f
Linguistics (SIL) was authorized to create a 6 6 ,570-hectare [169,088-acreJ protec
tion zone (the ‘Protectorate’) around its m ission. B y the early 1980s, five-sixths o f
the population was liv in g in the Protectorate, w h ich represented one-tenth o f the
traditional territory. Sin ce the creation o f p rim ary schools, which has accelerated
the process o f sedentarization and riverine adaptation , the population has gathered
xvi Preface
into twenty com m unities, almost all located within the boundaries o f the form er
Protectorate (see m ap pref.2.). In April 1990 the H uaorani were granted the largest
indigenous territory in E cu ad o r (679,130 hectares, o r 1,098,000 acres). It includes
the form er Protectorate and adjoins Yasuni N ational Park (982,300 hectares, or
2,495,000 acres).
D espite predictions that the national society w ould quickly absorb this reduced,
egalitarian, and foragin g group, Huaorani people are, thirty-five years later, flour
ishing. T h e population has expanded dem ographically and spatially, recuperating
lost territories. O f course, their reality and identity has become fragm ented and
com plex, but they can n o t be said to have sim ply becom e Ecuadorian citizens,
generic Indians, or civilized Christians.
Com pared to oth er A m azonian Indians, they have retained a substantial land
base; their native language was never suppressed, nor was Spanish ever forced upon
them . T h ey never experienced religious boarding schools or the alienation o f ha
cienda life. Surrounded b y m igrant farmers whose unskilled labor is always on offer
for the short periods w h en the oil industry requires m anpower, they have largely re
m ained outside the lab o r market. Moreover, their settlements are too rem ote from
urban centers, roads, and main rivers to market cash crops or forest products prof
itably. Tourism, w h ich was lim ited for the same reasons, has expanded in recent
years under the guise o f ecotourism.
C augh t between the conflicting objectives o f petroleum development and forest
conservation, they are confronted with pernicious and contradictory econom ic a'nd
political interests. N o t unlike the SIL, the oil com panies operating in their territo
ry are trying to exercise com plete control over them, providing funds and coordi
nating all governm ental and nongovernmental actions concerning health, educa
tion, and econom ic im provem ent. Much paternalism and rhetoric accom pany
these “m odernization” program s, which, far from prom oting self-developm ent, are
underm ining what constitutes the core o f H uaorani culture: their unique relation
ship to the forest and their hunting-gathering w ay o f life.
In 1991, in the w ake o f receiving territorial rights from the governm ent after a
protracted international cam paign, young schooled men formed the O N H A E (O r
ganization o f the H u aorani N ation o f Amazonian Ecuador). Five years later, the or
ganization was op erating almost entirely under the auspices o f M axus, a com pany
exploiting petroleum in the region. M axus was payin g a salary to O N H A E ’s lead
ers, rented an office equipped with telephone, fax, and electronic m ail, and em
ployed a nonindigenous secretary to run it. G iven that political decisions are nor
m ally taken through consensus rather than by m ajority vote, agreements passed
between M axus and elected representatives have often been denounced and de
clared null and vo id in the communities. T h e political influence o f O N H A E lead-
Preface xix
ers, viewed as too yo u n g and immature to d eserve respect, remains som ew hat lim
ited. Conscious o f the O N H A E ’s inadequacies, H uaorani people are searching for
an organizational form m ore in tune with th eir ow n political dynamics.
M y central argum ent in this book is that certain distinctive practices o f the
Huaorani can be understood only in terms o f social and symbolic structures inter
nal to their own society In this I disagree w ith tw o recent schools o f thought co n
cerning Amazonian societies. One o f them interprets contem porary-social form a
tions as the result o f disruptions caused b y E u ropean penetration o f the region,
disruptions that led to widespread cultural d evo lu tio n and the ethnogenesis o f en
tirely new societies. T h e other interprets con tem p o rary social activities in term s o f
adaptations to the natural environment.
There always were two possible responses to incursions by powerful, expan sion
ist societies: accom m odation in order to ob tain trade goods and w eapons in ex
change for jungle produce and slaves or m o b ility and flight. M ost o f the argum ents
made by ethnohistorians concerning ethnogenesis in the wake o f European im pact
concern those w ho chose the former response, in part because it is such grou p s that
were most closely involved with Europeans an d abou t w hom Europeans have left
historical records. T h e Huaorani are archetypes o f the latter response: T h e y have
chosen autonom y above all else and are kn ow n fo r choosing suicide over settlem ent
when forcibly assim ilated. I show that argum ents concerning groups that assim ilat
ed to European presence do not apply to those that chose autonomy.
In the Am azon, autonom y has long m eant a readiness to abandon fixed settle
ments and engage in long foraging treks through the forest. In the absence o f his
torical sources, the foraging groups have tended to attract the interest o f the cultur
al ecologists, w h o began by studying the co n tem p o rary adaptations o f grou p s to
their natural environm ents. In this approach, the environm ent is interpreted as im
posing a set o f rather severe constraints on h u m an behavior. It has been argued, for
example, that tropical rain forest areas are n atu rally scarce in proteins, o r som e
other nutrients, and that these scarcities explain patterns o f movement and con flict
over scarce resources leading to warfare.
M ore recently, historical ecology has show n that the environm ent is itself the re
sult o f long-term hum an intervention and that m ovem ents through the forest take
advantage o f the m anipulation o f the forest b y previous generations. I go beyond
the historical ecologists to show that the H u ao ran i view the forest as the p rod u ct o f
past generations and as naturally abundant an d that they have been able to incor
porate the presence o f oil camps into their basic worldview , since the oil com panies
have become sources o f spontaneous abundance m uch like the forest itself. T h e
Huaorani preference for relying on slow -grow ing perennial tree crops over annual
crops like m anioc is in part a preference for a k in d o f society in which egalitarian re
xx Preface
lationships are valued over hierarchical ones. T h u s the structure o f the forest itself
reflects a long-term historical commitment on the part o f foragers and trekkers to
the maintenance o f social autonomy.
I thus argue against both the ethnohistorians and the cultural ecologists that
trekking cannot be reduced to the effects o f either environm ental constraints or the
history o f European penetration o f the region. H uaorani lack o f institutionalization,
ritualization, and m ythological elaboration m ust be confronted com paratively and
in all its complexity w ith ou t resorting to hypotheses about sim plification by dep op
ulation or regression. I thus locate m yself firm ly in the tradition o f the A n n ée Soci
ologique o f Durkheim and Mauss by arguing that m ovem ent through space has a
social and ritual value in itself quite apart from whatever econom ico-environm en-
tal or politico-historical benefits may be derived from it. Relations between people
and between people and their environment should not be studied as tw o separate
dom ains o f interaction. T h e Huaorani’s relation to their environm ent is in m any
w ays a social relation w ith themselves across generations; it is therefore em inently
historical.
Chapter I presents the m ain ideas o f historical ecology as they relate to current
rethinking about indigenous adaptation to the Am azon rain forest, and proposes to
m od ify the historical ecology paradigm in a w a y that gives it greater explanatory
force, especially regarding the nature o f N orthw est Am azon trekking and foraging
societies. Chapter 2 reviews critically existing w ork on the im pact o f colonial
processes on the native populations o f lowland South Am erica, and offers a sum m ary
o f existing ethnohistorical sources relating to the U pper N apo region. C h ap ter 3
focuses on the H uaorani s own vision o f warfare and history, and on trekking as pat
terned by cultural and historical modes o f violence. Chapter 4, w hich exam ines
trekking as a “com ing back” com plem enting the m ovem ent ofw ithdraw al caused by
predation, shows that residential mobility is related to management practices that
transform the forest into a giving environment. T h e principles regulating social life
in the longhouse, the basic social unit, which is characterized by great intim acy, shar
ing, and equality am o n g co-residents, are reviewed in chapter 5. M arriage alliances,
as argued in chapter 6, are fundamental to H uaorani politics. The egalitarian nature
o f Huaorani society derives in part from the preferential marriage pattern .between
ambilateral cross-cousins and in part from the renewal o f alliances across endoga-
m ous boundaries, celebrated in drinking cerem onies that require horticultural
intensification. C h ap ter 7 explores the effects o f m odern forces such as petroleum
development, the expansion o f agriculture, tourism , and the creation o f airstrips and
schools on settlement patterns and sense o f identity. Chapter 8 concludes this study
by providing further com parative and theoretical reflections on the rejection o f pre
dation as an aspect o f regeneration and as the d rivin g force in the cosm os.
A ck n ow led gm en ts
VO W ELS C O N SO N A N T S
a as in ‘garage’ b as in ‘book’
e as in ‘ red’ qu as in ‘cake’
è as in the French word ‘laic’ d as in ‘dot’
i as in ‘leash’ gu as in ‘go’
o as in ‘alone’ m as in ‘m oon’
n as in m oo«’
N A S A L IZ E D V O W E L S ñ as in the Spanish w ord ‘niña’
as in the French word ‘enfant’ p as in ‘glace’
ë as in ‘sample’ t as in ‘tips’
as in ‘m en’ hu as in ‘warm ’
as in the French word câlin’ y as in ‘youth’
ô as in ‘p o n d ’
T rek k in g T h ro u g h H isto r y
CH A PTER ONE
T rekking in A m a zo n ia
It is w a lk in g th rough the forest w ith inform ants that I cam e to realize that
there w as n o clear bound ary betw een w ild plant foods an d cu ltivated crops
or b etw een ga th e rin g and cu ltivatin g. W h at H uaorani p e o p le call monito
om 'e ‘o u r la n d ’ is a large stretch o f forest com prising p alm groves, patches o f
fruit trees, u n tid y and m in im alistic m an ioc plots, ab a n d o n e d gardens that
still p ro d u c e ed ib le plantain, an d crop s once cultivated an d n o w grow ing
w ith no o r v e ry little hum an in terven tio n , as well as a great n u m b er o f use
ful p lants, w ild and dom esticated, fou n d in hunting ca m p s o r alon g river
banks. In term s o f choices and priorities, horticulture is o ften less im p or
tant th an fo ra g in g . People like m o vin g through the forest an d subsisting on
w ild fo o d . T h e y w o u ld not let cu ltivatio n prevent them fro m trekking. T h is
is w hy, p e rh a p s, m y inform ants an d th eir indigenous n eigh b o rs agreed that
the H u a o ra n i are poor gardeners because “ they can n o t stay pu t for very
lo n g.” M o reo ve r, m anioc gardens are planted not so m u ch to obtain staple
food b u t as p a rt o f w ider alliance strategies involving fea stin g w ith unrelat
ed or d ista n t grou ps.
M a y b u ry -L e w is ’s (1967:48) rem ark that for the X a v a n te “ the harvests
were th o u g h t o f less as p rovid in g the essentials for the life o f the co m m u n i
ty than as b on u ses to be used fo r celebration” applies e q u a lly w ell to the
H u a o ra n i. In the course o f field w o rk , I saw fam ily gro u p s a b an d o n their v il
lage d w e llin g s an d gardens w ith o u t hesitation before h arv e stin g their crops
o f m a n io c an d plantain w hen the pleasure o f aggregatin g an d interacting
su d d en ly gave w a y to fierce d ivisio n s and antagonism . I heard about the
Tagaeri, a sp lin te r group that separated itself from the rest o f the H uaorani
p o p u la tio n in the 1960s. T h e y h ave not on ly kept to th em selves fiercely, re
fusin g all co n ta ct and killing those w h o have attem pted to con tact them,
but th ey h ave also given up gard en in g. A n d I spent tim e w ith fam ilies living
in “m o d e rn ” com m u nities alo n g airstrips o r around state sch o o ls w h o co m
plained b itte rly about their g ro w in g dependence on a gricu ltu re and w ho
were d o in g ev eryth in g in their p o w er to resist sed en tarization , often choos
ing to u se fo o d crops prim arily fo r ritual and political pu rpo ses.
T h e H u a o ra n i lifestyle, not u n lik e that observed a m o n g o th er h igh ly m o
bile n ative A m azo n ian s (for exam p le, the C uiva, M a k u , S irio n o , o r A ch£),
entails a h ig h degree o f n om ad ism associated w ith a m o d e o f subsistence
based o n fo ra g in g . T h e y cultivate but spend m ore tim e, a n d are far m ore in
terested in , h u n tin g and gatherin g. T h e prim ary o b jective o f this b o ok is to
d o c u m e n t a n d analyze these specificities and to sh o w th at th ey cannot be
e xp lain ed a w a y w ith reference to the environm ent an d its con dition alities,
nor to h isto ry as a source o f d isru p tio n and d isin tegratio n . A proper analy
Trekking in Amazonia 3
the floodplains (varzea) and the poor soils o f the interfluvial h ab itat (terra
firm e). Lathrap (1968b) suggested that a n a tu ral increase in the h u m an p o p
ulation on the floodplain s eventually led to resource co m p etitio n resultin g
in warfare. W eaker groups were expelled fro m the fluvial zon e an d took
refuge in the deep interior o f the forest. In th is p oorer habitat, th ey w ere re
duced to scattered, sm all, and m obile b a n d s o f hunter-gatherers. C o n se
quently their h orticulture was rudim en tary, inefficien t, and u n p ro d u ctive.
These societies reverted to a much lo w e r level o f cultural com plexity. In
other words, it is through com petitive ex c lu sio n from fluvial zones that so
cieties underwent a process o f cultural d e v o lu tio n .
Lévi-Strauss s (1948) interpretation o f N a m b ik w a ra seasonal treks, as w ell
as his understanding o f Bororo society (L é vi-S trau ss 1955, 1963b) an d , m ore
generally, o f “pseudo-archaic” societies (Lévi-Strau ss 1963a), reflects the
same view that groups disseminated b y w a rfa re and disease w ere fo rced into
unproductive habitats, abandoned a g ricu ltu re , and regressed fro m tribal to
band societies. C o n sequ en tly underneath the egalitarian social fo rm s fo u n d
am ong m any A m azon ian societies, in p a rtic u la r those o f central B razil, it is
possible to uncover m ore com plex and h ierarch ical constructs rep resen tin g
survivals from the past.
It is worth n otin g that cultural evo lu tio n ists challenge en viro n m en tal de
terminism on ly to a point. I f Roosevelt, fo r instance, is able to refu te M e g
gers’s (1971, 1996) hypothesis that c h ie fd o m s from an A n d ean o rig in d e
volved in A m azon ia because the ecological con d ition s o f the lo w er part o f
the Amazon R iv er w ere not feasible to su sta in their level o f so cio e co n o m ic
integration, and to claim that the ec o lo g y o f varzea flo o d plain s w as rich
enough to su pport the endogenous d e v e lo p m e n t o f ch iefdom s su ch as the
one that gave rise to the M arajoa culture (R o o seve lt 19 9 1), u ltim ately she ac
cepts the thesis that Am azonian societies are determ ined by en viro n m en tal
conditions and that the lack o f com plex a n d hierarchical so cio p o litical sys
tems is attributable to a lack o f resource p oten tials. A s she h e rse lf adm its,
whereas the poor-resource tropical rain fo rest m odel is in a p p ro p ria te for
much o f the tropical lowlands in both S o u th A m erica and M eso am erica,
cultural ecology can n o t be proven w ro n g u n til it can be sh o w n that such
complex developm ents occurred in re so u rce-p o o r regions. R o o sevelt even
concludes that “ these alternatives, h ow ever, all consider develo pm en tal and
cultural processes in the environm ental co n te xt. T h e problem fo r the fu
ture, then, is to im p rove, not to elim in ate, the environ m en tal determ in ist
paradigm” (R oosevelt 1991:487—38).
An additional problem with cultural ev o lu tio n ism , and w ith its assu m p
6 Trekking in Amazonia
tion th at the carrying cap acity o f the environm ent restricts cultural ev o lu
tion b y lim itin g the size, distribu tion , and perm anence o f the hum an p o p
u lation in the different environm ental zones o f A m az o n ia , is its norm ative
and eth n ocen tric character (Sponsel 1989:38-39). I f the shift from sed en
tariness, intensive agricultu re, and relatively high p o p u latio n density to n o
m a d ic foragin g can be seen from a cultural and h istorical view point as b ein g
eq u ivalen t to devolu tion and social breakdow n, fro m an ecological v ie w
p o in t it m eans survival and adaptation or, in S p o n sel’s (1989:39) w ords, “ the
restoration o f eq u ilib riu m .”
and R o ss (1978) have exam in ed the social and ecological factors that lead
groups to favor adaptation to environm ental u n p red ictab ility through flex
ibility an d exploitation o f h eterogeneous resources, an d have differentiated
the gro u ps w h o stress specialization in the obtainm en t o f high yields from
stable resources. O ther authors h ave looked more p a rticu larly at the relative
costs an d benefits o f co llectin g an d cultivating.4 E ven M eggers (1995:19),
w ho n o w stresses that the stren gth o f Am azonia’s environ m en tal constraints
is reflected in the large n u m b er o f traits these h orticu ltu ralist societies share
w ith hunting-gathering societies, by which she im plies that hunter-gather-
ers subsist in environm ents th at do not allo w fo r cu ltivatio n , a more evolved
and co m p lex system o f ad aptation to, and exploitation o f, the environment,
seems to have adopted an o p tim a l foraging perspective.
C u ltu ral ecologists w ho h ave show n an interest in the relative m obility o f
A m azon ian foragers (H ill an d H u rtad o 1996, 1999), trekkers (Gross 1979),
and hunter-horticulturalists (V ickers 1989) correlate a region’s natural re
source base w ith the cultures an d social structures o f its peoples. T h ey frame
their research using the basic qu estions o f cultural ecology, notably: (1) H ow
do tropical forest horticulturalists meet nutritional needs such as protein?;
and (2) W h at is the carrying cap acity o f various A m azo n ian sub-ecosystems
and particu lar environm ents? G ro ss (1975) interprets the form o f Am azon
ian in d igenou s settlements, w h ic h are typically sm all, w id ely scattered, and
often deserted for m onths b y residents who have gone o f f on long treks
and fo rag in g expeditions, as eviden ce o f cultural adaptation to game scar
city. B u t M ilton (1984), w h o notes the relatively low accessibility o f most
w ild p lan t resources in the in terio r forest, identifies carbohydrates as a lim
iting factor for the M aku In d ian s o f Northwestern A m azonia. H ill, in the
article he w rote with H aw kes an d O ’C onnell (H aw kes, H ill, and O ’C o n
nell 19 82), and in his su bsequen t w ork on the A ch e (H ill and Hurtado
¡9 9 6 ), advances the hypothesis that the rational econ om ic behavior o f A m a
zon foragers is expressed n o t in their tendency to m axim ize proteins but in
their inclination to m in im ize tim e. Instead o f argu in g, as Gross (1975)
w o u ld have, that faunal resources are a lim iting factor for the hunter popu
lation in its local en vironm ent an d that game availability, which influences
p opu lation dynamics and cu ltu re, is an adaptive challenge to foraging soci
eties, H ill formulates his ded u ctive thinking on protein procurement in
cost-benefit terms and explores the reasons why, accordin g to this model,
A m azo n foragers value m eat o ver plant food.
B y contrast, Gross (1979) analyzes trekking in central Brazil from an eco
logical perspective in form ed b y a cost-benefit approach. H e contrasts hunt
8 Trekking in Amazonia
but rather the way in which gathered plan t foods have been replaced by gar
den crops. T h is is possible because m a n io c cu ltivation is so constraint-free
in terms o f spacial and tem poral requirem ents that A m a z o n ia n horticultur-
alists can m ain tain their h u n tin g activities in the sam e w a y as i f they were
pure hunter-gatherers. M o b ility m a y be thought o f as b ein g positive for for
aging but negative for farm ing. H ow ever, societies d ep en d en t on a m ixed
- subsistence econom y such as the Sio n a-S eco ya have so lv ed the tension be
tween fo ragin g and farm ing b y co m b in in g the two. H a v in g adapted to re
source-poor areas that do not p erm it intensive land use, V ic k ers concludes,
the Sio n a-Secoya have developed an appropriate system co m b in in g hun t
ing and~horticulture.
O n this basis, Vickers, like W ilb e rt (1961) before h im , proposes that
hunter-horticulturalists represent a fo rm o f adaptation co rrespo n d in g to
an interm ediary stage o f d evelop m en t betw een fo rag in g an d farm in g. If, as
we saw earlier, cultural evolutionists tend to fall back on en viro n m en tal con
siderations, cultural ecologists en d u p basing their argu m en ts on develop-
mentalist considerations. T h is sh o rtco m in g in V ick ers’s acco u n t o f Siona-
Secoya farm ing-foraging becom es even m ore striking w h en his w o rk is read
alongside B ellier’s (1991) p ain stak in g reconstruction o f eastern Tukanoan
ethnohistory, for it highlights b o th V ick ers’s silence on the g ro u p ’s lon g his
tory o f con tact and his ultim ate preference for e v o lu tio n a ry explanations.
izations o f the Stew ard ian m odel to be rejected, as optim al foraging th eo
rists profess, view in g subsistence econom ies syn ch ro n ically and fu n ctio n al
ly w ithout taking in to consideration historical factors w o u ld be erroneous
as w ell. Th is is precisely w h at Balee, a p ro m in en t advocate o f the historical
ecology approach to the interaction betw een en viro n m en t and society in
A m azonia, has tried to achieve.
warfare and ep idem ics, he assumes chat A m azonian societies are funda
mentally o f D en ev an ’s “ intensive h o rticu ltu re” type. Foragers, in his view,
are deculturated, and their botanical kn ow led ge, that is, their know ledge
not only o f garden crops but also an d m ore generally o f the forest en viron
ment, is p oorer than that o f gardeners.
Th e m ajo r prob lem I see w ith h is attem pt to typologize terra firme
groups on the basis o f their relative b otan ical know ledge is that it tends to
disregard social, religious, and p o litica l considerations. If, fo r G ro ss and
other cultural ecologists, m obility is cau sed b y environm ental lim itations,
for Balée, âs fo r Lath rap, Roosevelt, a n d Lévi-Strauss, it is caused b y histor
ical constraints. In either case ecological differences such as those between
terra firme an d varzea become h istorical differences, and m o b ility is seen as
imposed from w ith o u t. M y m ain d issatisfaction w ith this m o d el, as I argue
throughout this book, is that it leaves no place for sociocultural processes.
M obility is as m u ch a product o f h istorical w ill and religious b e lie f as it is a
form o f ad aptation to the environ m en t o r to historical circum stances. W hat
deserves an alytical attention is the fact that people decide to leave a resource-
rich area fo r on e that is relatively p o o rer in order to rem ain in d epend en t, to
preserve a separate identity, and, as in the H uaorani case, to resist assim ila
tion. W hereas it cann ot be denied th at the conquest favored dispersion and
fragm entation, the reasons for cen trifu gal processes are in part endogenous.
It is through th eir decision m aking an d ch oice exercising that social groups
face historical forces and, for that m atter, environm ental constraints as well.
M obility an d the social forms it en gend ers need to be envisaged as part
o f the historical developm ent o f a d istin ct m ode o f life. Balée’s enorm ous
contribution has been to highlight the fact that higher m o b ility in A m azo
nia is linked to tw o choices: that o f u sin g resources that are n ot “w ild ” but
“ biocultural” a n d o f replacing cu ltiva tio n w ith gathering. W e n o w need to
determine h o w such shifts in social an d econ om ic practices are reflected at
the level o f collective representations an d , in particular, in the fo rm ation o f
distinctive identities.
Amazon Trekkers
D iscussions o f m ob ility in A m az o n ia are few, and these tend to focus on
the Indian p o p u latio n s o f central B razil, w h o , in M ay b u ry -L e w is’s words,
have always been som ething o f a m y stery (19 79 :1). T h e y have been fo u n d to
be “m arginal” because they lack basic cu ltu ral traits such as agriculture, pot
tery, tobacco, canoes, or ham m ocks (Stew ard 1948), yet they exh ib it highly
16 Trekking in Amazonia
h o rticu ltu re all year-rou n d . In replying to his two critiq u es, Lévi-Strauss in
sists o n the significance o f in tern al differentiations betw een groups and on
the role o f intertribal an d in tratrib al hostility in accen tu atin g N am b ik w ara
m o b ility. It is w orth n o tin g that Bam berger (19 7 9 :13 0 ), in her discussion o f
K a y a p ó trekking, stresses, like Price and A sp elin , th at the K ayapó do n o t
trek as lo n g and as far as rep o rted and that they rely h eavily on garden crop s
fo r th eir d aily subsistence, th roughout the year. V ersw ijver (1992), v e ry
m u ch lik e Lévi-Strauss, replies that whereas h igh er levels o f hostility an d
factio n alism in the past led to greater m obility, territorial losses and m is
s io n a ry influence in the p resen t have led to greater sedentism and greater re
lian ce on horticulture.
T h e correlation o f m o b ility and warfare, on the o n e hand, and o f peace,
g a rd en in g , and village life , o n the other, is not u n iq u e to the K ayapó o r the
N a m b ik w a ra . Such co rrelation seems to be very co m m o n throughout A m a
z o n ia , b oth as a set o f co n tra stive practices and as a social discourse. Jo u rn e t
(19 9 5), fo r exam ple, n otes th at the C urripaco, w h o iden tify h orticu ltu re
w ith peace and the fo u n d a tio n o f society, equate the n om adic lifestyle o f the
M a k ti, seen as antithetical to culture and anterior to civilization, w ith w a r
fare, h u n tin g, and iso latio n in the forest. Fau sto ’s (1998) study o f tw o
P arak an a groups, w h o h ave ch osen, after splittin g, to live according to tw o
d iv erg en t ways o f life— n o m ad ism and sedentism — illustrates the sam e as
so cia tio n between p a cific villag e life, horticulture, and sedentism , on the
o n e h an d , and, on the other, m obility, foraging, w arfare, and n om adism .
Several Yanom am i eth n ograp h ers point to the sam e close relation b etw een
in ten se w arfare, a lack o f internal differentiation, n o m ad ism , and a lesser re
lian ce on garden crops (Fergu son 1995; C o lch ester 19 84; A lbert 1985; G o o d
1989)-
M o b ility strategies n eed n o t be autom atically related to foraging b e h a v
ior. K e n t’s (1989) discu ssion o f m obility in relation to patterns o f aggrega
tio n an d dispersal is v e r y useful to understand seasonal trekking an d the
d y n a m ic s o f village frag m en tatio n . She exam ines the social, political, e c o
n o m ic , and religious ram ificatio n s o f nom adism an d sedentism , an d the
p o litica l function o f m o b ility , w h ich is often u sed as a w a y to segregate an d
a v o id conflict. W h at is ch aracteristic about farm ers and horticulturalists, she
co n te n d s, is not so m u ch th at they cultivate dom esticates but rather that
th e y are relatively im m o b ile and chose storage techn iques accordingly. In
the cou rse o f her research in thè Kalahari D esert, she observed farm ers w h o
so m etim es did not store m o re food than foragers d id , and foragers w h o
sto red food in qu an tities equ al to those o f farm ers an d according to tech
Trekking in Amazonia 19
ically minded eth n ograph ers, such as R enard -C asevitz, Saignes, an d T aylo r
(1986), Bellier (19 9 1), Santos G ranero (1992), and C h au m eil (19 9 4 ).2 All
stress the great cu ltu ra l diversity found w ith in , as m uch as b etw een , the eth
nic blocs that ea rly voyagers and chroniclers identified.
While stressing the discontinuities betw een clearly distin gu ished histori
cal periods, these h istorical accounts fo llo w a roughly ch ron ological presen
tation o f the geo grap h ical distribution o f the ethnic groups th at cam e into
contact with E u ro p ea n s at particular tim es in history, give in fo rm atio n
about the so cio e co n o m ic and political structure o f the groups, an d m ention
how these gro u p s reacted to the presence o f colonists, explorers, arid mis
sionaries (i.e., w h e th e r they traded, allied , were w illing to sedentarize, at
tacked, fled to the forest, and so forth). T a y lo r (1992), for in stance, broadly
contrasts five h istorical periods. T h e first period corresponds to the first
decades after the 15 4 1—42 expedition launched by G o n zalo P izarro and
Francisco de O re lla n a , during w hich riverine groups seem ed to h ave w el
comed the S p an ish as new trade partners. T h is period en d ed w h en epi
demics, death, an d terror forced the A m erin dian s to suppress their ex
change netw orks, b u rn their fields and villages, and disperse far fro m river
banks. T h e seco n d period, characterized by m issionary exp an sio n , corre
sponds to the creatio n o f the first in tereth nic mission villages an d the be
ginning o f “ transcu lturation” and “eth n ogenesis.” T h e collapse o f the mis
sionary front at th e end o f the eighteenth century, when native peoples were
left free to live in relative isolation fo r several generations, reco verin g some
autonomy, g ro w in g dem ographically, an d reoccupying som e o f th eir river
ine territories, con stitu tes the third p eriod . T h e fourth period T a y lo r iden
tified corresponds to the rubber boom in the second h alf o f the nineteenth
century, w h ich b ro u g h t a new wave o f destruction, death, v io le n t changes,
and m igrations. It w as followed by a fe w decades o f relative peace and isola
tion before the start o f the m odern p erio d , w hich was characterized b y eco
nomic d evelo p m en t and national in tegration.
To follow H u a o ra n i footsteps th rough history involves sk etch in g som e
what hypothetical and conjectural reconstructions o f regional preconquest
tribal dynam ics an d postcontact interactions between native societies and
sociopolitical stru ctu res. People w h o , like the H uaorani, d id n ot accept
contact or d id n o t intermingle w ith the conquerors an d th eir helpers,
are, on the w h o le , absent from E u rop ean w ritten m em ories. T h u s the sum
mary below focu ses on the historical traces left by peoples w h o were not
Huaorani.
Two elem ents stru ck me when read in g historical m aterials o n the U pper
The Upper Amazon 2}
FIG U RE 1 .1
Post-Conquest
location o f major
ethnic groups
in the Upper
Napo regions
(after Cabodevilla,
1994)-
The Upper Amazon 27
the O m a g u a and the A vig iras, Yururies, Z ap aros, a n d Iq u ito s (all Z ap aro an
gro u p s) throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. W estern
T u k an o s and Zaparoans c o n tin u e d to be at w ar u n til the beginning o f the
tw en tieth century. A s sh all b ecom e evident below , conflicts between Z a
p aro an s (Aushiris) and E n ca b e lla d o s continued w e ll in to the nineteenth
cen tu ry, although som e m ission aries report the allian ce o f one T u kanoan
gro u p kn ow n as S an tam arías w ith A bigiras, b o th allied against o th er
T u k an o an s.
T h e re fo re , and despite th e d ifficu lty o f both d o c u m e n tin g it in detail an d
in te rp retin g it correctly, w a rfa re continued u n ab ated ly, including betw een
“tran scu ltu red ” popu lation s. T o conclude this p o in t, the w ell-docum en ted
case o f the frontier that sep arated Encabellados (W estern Tukanos) fro m
A b ig ira s (Zaparoans) a lo n g the upper course o f the river N apo illustrates
n o t o n ly the longlasting n atu re o f the ethnic fro n tiers that have perdured
th ro u g h o u t the regions h isto ry b u t also the co m p le x ity and fluctuating n a
ture o f tribal alliances, w h ic h , although affected b y E u ro pean in terven tion ,
w ere n o t caused by it.
M y o w n reading o f these docu m ents and o f the secondary sources th at
discuss them is that if tra d in g w ith the Spanish increased tribal conflicts an d
ten sion s and caused the em erg en ce o f new eth n ic polarities, it is the ch a n g
in g n ature o f man h u n tin g th at affected m ost p ro fo u n d ly the ind igen ou s
p eop les o f the U pper A m a z o n and the social fo rm s th ey had created (N ew -
son 19 9 6 ^ 2 0 5 ). Ram irez M o n ten e g ro (1992) o ffers a fascinating accou n t o f
the w a y s in w hich slave tra d in g (i.e., the exchange o f w a r prisoners for m etal
tools) d u rin g the co lo n ial expansion intensified the hostilities b etw een
riverin e a n d hinterland p o p u latio n s in the U p p e r M ag d alen a region o f the
C o lo m b ia n Am azon. T h e sam e dram atic escalation o f interethnic co n flict
a n d w arfare occurred in the N a p o region. T h e O m a g u a raided d o w n river
p o p u latio n s such as the Y ag u a for prisoners to exch an ge for trade go od s
th ro u g h o u t the seventeenth an d eighteenth cen tu ries. Ram irez M o n te n e
gro ’s description o f h o w the intense com m erce o f orphans replaced the
co m m o n precolonial p ra ctice o f abducting y o u n g children equally applies
to the U p p er N apo regio n . A n d so does his discu ssion o f the w a y the
S p an iard s m orally ju stified slavery as.a h u m an itarian undertaking aim ed at
b o th savin g w ar prisoners fro m being eaten b y th eir abductors and savin g
th eir souls from Satan b y m a k in g them C h ristian .
W e do not know the e x te n t to w hich native p eo p les o f the N apo parted
w ith orphans and refugees (w h o were, under n o rm a l circum stances, treated
as eq u al coresidents) in o rd er to secure, as they d id in the U pper M agd alen a,
The Upper Amazon 55
the w elfare o f true blood kin, b u t w e do find the sam e tran sfo rm atio n o f the
war prisoner w ho, from a ritual o b ject to be in corporated w ith in the fabric
o f society, becom es a slave cau gh t for his labor force an d exch an ged fo r m an
ufactured goods. T h e new in stitu tion alization o f slave ra id in g du ring the
rubber b o o m , briefly discussed in the next section o n the Z a p aro s, w hile
con tin uing sim ilar trends, h igh lig h ts a perhaps m ore tran shistorical dim en
sion o f m an hunting: T h e k id n ap p er is considered m o ra lly su p erio r and cu l
turally m ore developed than the kidn apped. I say tran sh isto rical, for i f the
superiority o f slave takers is clearly present in the co lo n ial w o rld o f correrías,
encom iendas, and reducciones, partition ed by colon ist an d m issio n ary ide
ologies into two large hom ogeneous ethnic blocs, the C h ristian iz ed , seden
tary, and collaborating runas o n the one hand, and the Savage, nom ad, and
insubordinate aucasw on the other, there are reasons to su sp ect that this dual
opposition preceded the con qu est, and even acco u n ted in part for the
O m agua’s m otivations and ju stificatio n s fo r raiding n e ig h b o rin g tribes.
farm s and rubber d ep o ts established alo n g m ain rivers and sm all trib u taries,
gives some m easure o f the unprecedented e co n o m ic developm ent o f the re
gio n during the ru b b e r era.
C om m ercial success depended p rim arily o n the quality and re lia b ility o f
the attached lab o r force, w h ich, how ever, proved to be far m o re vo latile
than the sales o f ru b b e r o r other products an d less secure than the advan ces
in cash and goods fro m the large trading cen ters in Iquitos. R u b b e r-ta p p in g
expeditions, w h ich co u ld last from six m o n th s to one year, w ere carried ou t
w ith more or less frequency. I f the risk o f b e in g attacked by free In d ia n s was
h igh , white settlers w o u ld let their laborers exp lo re small tributaries an d co l
lect rubber alone. C o n se q u en tly the N a p o -C u ra ra y region, w h ic h h ad re
m ained isolated a n d undisturbed th rough 350 years o f E uropean ru le, was
fin ally penetrated. N a tive s o f this last refu ge counterattacked. R u b b e r de
pots and trade cen ters w ere burned d o w n a lo n g the C uraray an d its trib u
taries, settlem ents w e re destroyed on the rivers C o n on aco and N u s h in o ,
farm s were raided o n the rivers N ap o a n d Y asu n i, and intruders w e re sys
tem atically harassed everyw here.
A lth ough there is abu n d an t evidence o f In d ia n resistance to in va sio n be
tween the 1880s an d the 19 40 s, few reports co n cern the T ip u tin i w atersh ed ,
w h ich seems to h ave rem ained relatively protected even d u rin g this new
w ave o f colonial pen etratio n . T h is is p a rtly because rubber bosses, traders
(regatones), and fa rm ow ners (hacendados) to o k their enslaved lab o rers (p e
ones) o f T u kanoan , Q u ich u a , and Z a p a ro a n origin hundreds o f kilo m eters
dow nriver from th eir original lands, w h ere H elvetia rubber, trees w e re m ore
abundant and w h ere the m ajor trading cen ters (in particular, Iq u ito s) w ere
located. T h is n ew w a v e o f Z ap aro m ig ratio n furthered the lo n g process o f
detribalization an d ethnogenesis. E p id em ics o f sm allpox, m easles, an d yel
lo w fever added to the depopulation o f th e U p p e r N ap o , w h ich b ecam e al
m ost exclusively in h ab ite d by a few u n co n ta cte d tribes, am on g w h ic h fig
ured the H u a o ra n i.13
A n in triguing a sp ect in the testim onies left by settlers, ru b b er bosses,
travelers, explorers, an d m issionaries is th at whereas some stress the Z a
paros’ reliability a n d cooperation, others re p o rt their fierceness a n d in d om -
inability. A reason fo r this apparent co n tra d ictio n m ay be that th e n in e
teenth-century e c o n o m ic frontier, stru ctu red b y the capitalist d e m a n d fo r
natural rubber scattered over w ide areas o f previo u sly unexplored h ea d w a
ter lands, divided Z a p a ro a n people into th ose w h o attached th em selves to
w h ite bosses, b ecam e C hristian s, and jo in e d the large mass o f b o n d ed In d i
ans, together w ith Q u ich u a s and T u kan o an peop le, and those, less n u m er
The Upper Amazon _J7
(and how) to distingu ish the H u a o ra n i from the rem nants o f insurgent Z a
paroan g ro u p s (i.e., A ushiris, A rab e la s, Tivacun os, S h irip u n o s, and so
forth) w ith w h o m they shared the sam e broad geographical area. Are the
H uaorani the descendants o f the Z a p a ro a n societies fragm en ted under the
im pact o f colonization? D id they disp erse and flee riverine hom elands in
search o f secu rity and sanctuary? A n d d id they loose their co m p le x social in
stitutions because o f depopulation an d forest internm ent?
In m y v ie w the H uaorani are n ot the direct descendants o f the A bigiras;
they are n o t y et another o f the d iverse, indom itable Z a p a ro a n tribes but
quite a d iffere n t grou p altogether, o n e that has m aintained its separate iden
tity and su rvive d the vicissitudes o f h isto ry by retaining access to the head
waters o f the T ip u tin i,17 its core base, from which it has exp an d ed south
eastward a n d , w h en ever con d ition s perm itted, n o rth w ard .18 I am inclined
to th ink th at i f the H uaorani w ere at all connected to the Z a p aro a n ethnic
bloc in th e past, they separated fro m it and chose isolation lo n g before the
post-O rellan a cataclysm , perhaps at the tim e when ( if n o t before) the A b i
giras left Z a p a r o land to m igrate n orth w ard and develop a riverine culture
m olded b y O m a g u a and E n ca b e lla d o influences, and based on intensive
horticulture.
A n u m b er o f argum ents m ay be cited in support o f the thesis that i f the
H uaorani an d the Zaparos shared the same broad A m az o n headwater
region, th ey rem ained politically an d socially distinct th ro u g h o u t history.
First, h istorical evidence suggests th at the T ip utin i w atersh ed , w hich the
H u aorani co n sid er their ancestral hom eland, rem ained protected from
w hite in tru sio n s m uch later than a n y o ther region o f the U p p e r N apo . T h is
river, n eith er ve ry accessible n o r v e ry navigable, esp ecially in its upper
course, d id not attract rubber tappers any more than it attracted Spanish
conquerors. It is reasonable to assu m e that such a rem ote region , costly to
access, d an gerou s and depopu lated, w ith no m ajor deposits o f go ld , no large
fo o d -p ro d u c in g Indian settlem ents, and no great co n cen tratio n o f good
rubber trees w as devoid o f m issio n a ry o r econom ic interest before the advent
o f m od ern transport and c o m m u n ic a tio n .19
I have alread y m entioned th at the low er course o f the river T ip u tin i, at
the m o u th o f w hich the Je su its established a redu cció n w ith Western
T u kan oan s kn ow n as Payaguas, b ecam e an O m agu a refu ge in the eigh
teenth ce n tu ry and that the O m a g u a kn ew and o ccu p ied the upper course
o f the T ip u tin i, possibly all the w a y to its source. H o w ever, this in no w ay
im plies th at the region was n o t already occupied b y o th er gro u p s, w ho, too
small a n d too divided to repel the O m a g u a, were fo rced to share their terri
The Upper Amazon 41
tory with the latter. M entions o f such fo rce d coh abitation w ith n o n -H u a o -
rani occupying river banks (and so m etim es co m p etin g w ith H u a o ra n i for
hilltop locations) are a com m on feature o f H u ao ran i oral history. Sim ilarly,
reports o f Z a p aro attacks on rubber tap p ers in the river’s m id d le an d low er
courses at the en d o f the nineteenth c e n tu ry should not lead us to exclude
the possibility that other groups, the H u a o ra n i in particular, w ere also liv
ing in these areas.
That the Z a p aro s lived along the rivers C u ra ra y and T ip u tin i, as w ell as
along their tributaries, for instance, the rivers N u sh in o, S h irip u n o , T iv a -
cuno, C o n on aco , and so forth, w h ic h , incidentally, are all Z a p a r o to-
ponyms, is n o t incom patible w ith the fact that H u aorani g ro u p s lived on
hilltops d o m in atin g these rivers, as w e ll as alo n g sm aller trib u taries. T h e re
is no doubt that the T ip u tin i becam e a refu ge fo r N ap o In d ia n s fro m the
seventeenth ce n tu ry on ; but it does n o t fo llo w that it was n o t alread y a
refuge for other groups fleeing O m a g u a an d Encabellado raids befo re the
arrival o f the Spanish nor that it w as a refu ge sim ilar to those fo u n d in the
Pastaza, w here fleeing Indians ten ded to in term ix and create the p o stco n
quest transcultural identities discussed b y T a y lo r (1992) and others.
Another im p o rtan t argum ent is th at the H u ao ran i language is an isolate,
with only tw o borrowed words in th eir lan gu age w h en first co n tacted b y the
SIL (Peeke I 9 7 3 ) - 2 0 O f course, analysis o f H u aoran i syn tax an d sem antics
has been greatly im peded by the lack o f data on Z ap aroan lan guages, and
future linguistic research m ay link the H u a o ra n i language to k n o w n phyla.
However, w o rd lists in Zaparo, A u sh iri, an d other Z ap aroan lan gu ages show
no correlation whatsoever with H u a o ra n i vocab u lary (B eu ch at an d R iv et
1908; Rivet 19 30 ; Steward and M é tra u x 1948:639; G ra n ja 1942.; Tessm an
1930). G iven that it is alm ost certain th at the A ushiris are the descendants
o f Abigiras, one m ay venture to infer, s im p ly on the basis o f lin g u istic evi
dence, that the H uaorani are not d escen d an ts o f the A bigiras. It is tru e that,
given the h igh linguistic diversity o f Z a p a ro a n languages (it is k n o w n that
some were m u tu ally incom preh ensible), no definite co n clu sio n m ay be
drawn. W h atever caution one exercises, it rem ains nevertheless certain that
Tessman (1930) and the travelers cited b y R iv e t (1930, 1946) m ade contact
with H uaorani speakers, w hom th ey co rrectly distinguished fro m Z a p aro
speakers. T h e w ord list Tessman o b ta in e d from two Ssabela adu lts in V aca-
cocha, at the confluence o f the rivers N a p o and C uraray, is in d eed in H u a o
rani, and so is the w ord list o f Tuei (the language spoken b y the Inem o
Dikama) m entioned by Rivet (1930; see Stew ard and M étrau x 1948). T h is is
further confirm ed by the fact that R iv e t’s classification o f T u ei speakers as
42 The Upper Amazon
lived in the midst o f variou s o th er peoples, som e o f w h o m (for exam ple, the
O m agua) were culturally d ifferen t from them an d others (for exam ple, the
in dom itable Zaparos) m o re sim ilar to them ; or, to be m ore precise, they
form ed nom adic and a u ta rk ic enclaves livin g in the interstices betw een
larger and m ore pow erful gro u p s w ith w h om th ey refused contact, trade,
and exchange. O ne in stance o f their fierce refusal to interact w ith n o n -
H uaorani in the past is the fact that abducted m en , w o m en , and children
between the 1870s and 19 30 s (a period for w h ich w e have written records)
system atically com m itted su icid e (Blom berg 1956). A gro u p o f “uncontact
ed” H u aorani, the Tagaeri, o f w h o m I shall speak m ore in the rest o f the
book, are still living in h id in g ever since m issionaries and oil com panies
have becom e active in the T ip u tin i area, fleeing all co n tact, even w ith other
H u aorani, their direct b lo o d relatives. T h e y are n o w liv in g in the southeast,
close to the border o f Peru.
In sum , I suggest that in stead o f accepting u n critica lly the thesis that the
H u aorani, like the T u p i-G u a ra n i foraging societies studied by Balee, de
scend from an agriculturalist society, w e should co n sid er seriously the h y
pothesis that they m ay h ave constituted an isolated, territorially discrete,
sm all-scale, and cu ltu rally an d linguistically h om o gen eo u s society since
preconquest times. Such h istorical isolation and cu ltu ral continuity are d if
ficult to docum ent. A sp irit o f insularity, by d e fin itio n , leaves no historical
traces in books written b y m issionaries and travelers.
C u rren t theory is so d ed icated to the exam in ation o f postcolonial ethno-
genesis, that it is alm ost b lin d to the possibility th at som e cultures m ay have
rem ained self-contained o ver lo n g periods. It is easy to understand w h y
A m azonian postcolonial stu dies tend to ignore the existence o f refractory
societies refusing m iscegen ation and to overem phasize the processes that
led to the emergence o f tran scu ltural and m u ltieth n ic societies in the m is
sionary settlements establish ed th roughout the seventeen th and eighteenth
centuries. A uthors w h o cu rren tly com bine A m az o n ia n history and an thro
pology, and w ho are p rim a rily interested in the role native h istoricalagen cy
plays in replacing older ab o rigin al sociopolitical m odels and institutions
w ith novel forms o f o rg a n iz atio n ,22 u nderstand ably prefer to focus their
analyses on geographic areas for w hich there is a w ealth o f archival m ateri
als and good ethnographic records. T h e p rim ary interest o f Spanish co n
querors and subsequent co lo n ists and m issionaries in relatively large, seden
tary aboriginal groups p ro d u c in g for trade and w illin g to barter and ally
w ith the Europeans explain s the unequal coverage o f postconquest history.
44 The Upper Amazon
T h e T im e a n d Space o f
H u ao ran i N o m a d ic Isolationism
T h e terms huarepo (literally ‘again it com es’ o r ‘annual cycle’) and apaica
‘moon’ or ‘m onth’ are used to give w hat appears at first to be m ore precise
information about the length o f time separating the present from the past
event being rem em bered, but this is often an illusion . I soon realized w hile
in the field that huarepo cou ld mean an yth in g from several m onths to sev
eral years, and that the conscientious repetition o f apa'ica, while counting
one’s fingers, was v e ry seldom related to the actual num ber o f m onths that
had elapsed betw een tw o events. T h e c o u n tin g o f chonta palm seasons
(,daguenca tire), 1 b y con trast, usually gave a m ore accurate notion o f years
passed, and so did the use o f iim o ‘yesterday’ , nuhone ‘right now ’ , ‘at pres
ent’, ‘today’ , and b a an e ‘tom orrow .’ To m y am azem ent, I found no w ord
other than baane to express the distant future.
To remember is to th in k again (weete pone) and believe (pone), a verb
that is contrasted w ith the verb to know (in i, literally ‘to hear’). I form ed
the strong im pression w h ile living in H u a o ra n i land that forgetting was
more com m on than rem em bering, a poin t illustrated by the fact that when
someone was rem in d ed o f som ething, the person w ould answer laughing
“ d u u b e. . . ,” w h ich is an exaggerated p ro n u n ciatio n o f dube ‘past’ , by w hich
the person m eant, “ It h appened so long ago that I have com pletely forgot
ten about it.” T h is “ so lo n g ago,” however, often stood for a period o f sev
eral weeks and never extended beyond several m onths.
To recapitulate, d u ra n i, the term co m m o n ly used to talk about ‘history’ ,
marks a distance in tim e that could range fro m ten years to one hundred
years. Since the p assin g o f tim e is considered an unquantifiable process,
past events do not n eed to be recorded w ith precision. Such im precision
is remarkable in a cu ltu re that shows great reluctance to make general
statements about society, culture, or w ays o f life. W hereas H uaorani in
formants do not an sw er questions o f the type “ W h at do H uaorani people
think about . . . ?” o r answ er w ith one concrete, particular case o f which
they have direct kn o w led ge , they answer qu estion s about the past using in
formation-poor, fixed narratives that are too vagu e to lead the listener to feel
as i f she or he had been there. These narratives construct a transhistorical,
archetypical event th at can be sum m arized as follow s:
Huaorani people (i) are subjected to outside predation; (2) they endlessly wan
der on or across enem y territory, settle tem porarily out o f reach o f cannibals, and
brave the enemy in order to celebrate the palm fruit season on hilltop sites for
merly occupied b y long-dead Huaorani; and, finally, (3) times o f warfare, de
struction, and depletion (piinte quemente ‘m aking— in the sense o f manufactur-
48 Huaorani Nom adic Isolationism
ing— the state o f rage*) are interrupted b y periods o f peace and expansion
(piiyene nani quepam o ‘ou r anger no longer is’).
ways men, and u sually several for each v ic tim ) are nevertheless rem em bered
as vividly as the nam es o f the victim s (alw ays iso lated , m ale or fem ale, in d i
viduals) that have b ecom e the names o f p a rts o f the forest.
T h e landscape resu ltin g from such “ h isto ric a l” m e m o ry is as cru cial to
the understanding o f H u aoran i culture as th e to te m ic geography is fo r A u s
t r a l i a n Aborigines (M o rp h y 1995). In b o th cu ltu res the landscape lin k s to
gether people and place, and time is spatialized . H o w ever, topograph y does
not em body livin g m y th o lo gy in the H u a o ra n i h istorical landscape, as it
does in the A ustralian A b o rigin e case. A s I sh a ll exp lo re in m ore detail, i f the
landscape is represented in m yths, it d o es n o t, how ever, represent the
myths. Although H u a o ra n i prim ordial an cesto rs an d cultural heroes crea t-'
ed the earth as it is kn o w n today by cau sin g th e gia n t w o rld tree to fall o r by
raising hilly lands above the flooding p lain (R iv a l 19 9 7b ), they h ave lo n g
ceased to act on the landscape and are n o t a ck n o w le d g e d as the au th o rs o f
their topographical creations. T h e forest exists because o f the lives an d
deaths o f ordinary people.
I f normal life creates the forested lan d sca p e (m ore on this in the n ext
chapter), history an d a separate collective id e n tity result from H u a o ra n i
peoples im m em orial efforts to protect th em selves fro m predators b y fleein g,
hiding, and trekking. People have su rvived b y m o v in g on . T h e y have h ad to
hide and escape from the external vio len ce o f p o w e rfu l, destructive n e ig h
bors, as well as from the irruptions o f in te rn al fury, tw o types o f aggression
against which they feel powerless, and, w h e n co m b in e d , periodically b rin g
the Huaorani nation to the brink o f e x tin c tio n . M o re than h istorical ac
counts, these self-representations constitute d eclaratio n s o f identity: H u a o
rani people have h ad to defend their lives a n d th eir collective d ifferen ce
against annihilating and predatory forces. T h e y con stitu te, in other w o rd s,
their historical truth, w h ich the rest o f th is c h a p te r n o w explores.
Ñ eñ e Yere are demons who break stone axes into pieces, kill the H uaorani, and
eat them . A t som e point in the past, over a thousand o f these dem ons came and
killed m ost o f the Huaorani. I kn ow this story to be true because m y grandmother
used to sing about this. T h e dem ons came to visit, and the people had to serve
them m an io c drink from dusk to daw n. There was never enough drink to satisfy
them an d quench their thirst. T h a t’s how the Huaorani k new they were not real
people but dem ons. T h e N ene Yere hid behind trees and started to kill the H uao
rani. A s they kept com ing through the house jum ping around like monkeys, an
old m an w as chanting. People tried to kill the Ñeñe Yere w ith their soft spears.
T h e y w o u ld jab and jab and jab, but the monkey dem ons w o u ld not be killed.
D o w n river Huaorani came to the rescue and tried to kill the N en e Yere with their
w ood en m achetes and poisoned darts, but the demons d id not die. Alive as they
were, th ey killed more and m ore H uaorani. Only those w h o kept chanting saved
their ow n lives; singing, they escaped from death. T h e dem ons w h o listened to
the chants died. T h e wom en, w h o had gone to hide in the forest, came back full
o f joy, as soon as they realized that the demons were dying. I f it had not been for
these dem ons, we would be like the Quichuas; we w o uld speak the same runa
language.
Tonquitay caused a lot o f hardship in former times. People’s lives were miserable,
for, d espite all their care, the bats w o uld come at night to steal their young chil
dren to kill them and eat them. T h e bats lived on a giant rock as hard as cement
in the sky. T h e sky, attached to tree tops by climbers, w as close to earth. W hat
people to ok to be wild turkey bones thrown on the grou nd b y birds o f prey were,
in fact, the bones o f Huaorani children. The children had to w o rk hard for the
bats. T h e bats were the bosses, the children the slaves. T h o se w h o refused to w ork
were killed and eaten up.
Huaorani Nomadic Isolationism 51
M any o f these stories stress the H u a o ra n i’s helplessness in the face o f ene
mies, w h o co u ld be scared away but n ot killed off. H u ao ran i people could
not defend them selves because their spears were made o f soft balsa w ood.
Th ey could su rvive on ly by livin g d ivid e d and separated fro m non -H uao-
rani, at least u n til the son o f the sun cam e to their rescue:
At the begin n in g o f their history, H uaorani people had only spears m ade o f balsa
wood, w h ich were too blunt and soft to kill. T h ey were at the m ercy o f numer
ous cannibals and under constant threat o f being killed off. T h e ir only protec
tion against these powerful enemies w as to live in hiding. O ne day, the son o f the
sun visited them and taught them the existence o f peach palm s. H avin g learned
to make hard palm wood spears, they were able to defend themselves. T his is
how, until this day, they have survived as a separate group. W ith hardwood
spears, they could defend themselves and remain different from the cohuori
(non-H uaorani).
W hat these narratives tell us is that at all times, that is, in m yth ical times, in
former tim es, a n d in the w orld today, H uaorani people h ave been continu
ously subject to the aggression o f predators. They, the h u ao ran i (literally
‘true h um an b ein gs’), are under co n stan t threat o f being captu red and eaten
by cohuori ‘n o n -H u a o ran i’ , w h o are, as the old A ca once to ld m e, quenhu'e
‘cannibal pred ators’ w ho live “on the other side.” T h e y steal people (espe
cially children) to butcher their b o d ies, sm oke and cure th eir flesh, and eat
it exactly lik e m o n k ey or peccary m eat.
It is n ot possib le to differentiate real hum an attackers (fo r exam ple, Z a
paro slave raiders, rubber tappers, m ilitary, or colonists) fro m im aginary
ones, and figh ts w ith outside enem ies are no different fro m m ythical en
counters w ith huene dem ons because all attackers behave in the same
predatory w a y an d have the sam e evil intentions; they kill real people, suck
their b lood , a n d eat them. Stories a b o u t predatory bats an d other kinds o f
huene m ay easily be interpreted m etaph o rically as a m yth ical discourse on
real historical events. A s noted in the last chapter, native people o f the
Upper N a p o region, especially ch ild ren , were abducted to be used as bond
ed labor even before the arrival o f Europeans. M oreover, m ythical tales
about the sp irits o f dead relatives, o r relatives w ho left a lo n g tim e ago, come
back for a visit, ask for food and shelter, and end up k illin g and devouring
their hosts, m a y also be interpreted as cultural rew orkings o f real historical
occurrences con n ected w ith p ostcon q u est epidem ics. T h e se h uene devils or
ghosts are said to trick their hosts ( particu larly w om en an d children) by as
52 H uaorani Nomadic Isolationism
sum ing the b o d ily appearance o f relatives. O ther visitin g h u en e are iden
tified w ith d ista n t H uaorani gro u p s w h o se habits and d ialect differ from
those o f th eir hosts. Exam ples are the Taromenga ( Taram ongui) /' m onstrous
people w h o h ave no m outh and live un derground in h oles, o r the H uiña-
tare, a tribe o f giants w h o live at th e border o f Peru an d are said to raid
H uaorani fo r w o m en in order to sa tisfy their incon tinen t sexual appetite.
To deceive, h arm , and kill constitutes th eir real m otive fo r visitin g .
It is tem p tin g to interpret beliefs a b o u t cannibal tricksters as cultural de
vices w h ose fu n ctio n w ould be, on the on e hand, to p reven t co n tact and in
teraction betw een contam inated k in fo lk returning after a lo n g absence and
n o n con tam in ated individuals, a n d , o n H ie other, to p ro te ct uncontacted
groups fro m the predatory raids o f th eir abducted relatives supposedly
w ork ing as slave traders or guides fo r colonists and ru b ber tappers. B u t even
i f there w ere a correspondence b etw een such function an d the specific his
torical circu m stan ces that m ay h ave g iven rise to it, w e are nevertheless left
w ith the task o f explaining w h y all these tales articulate the sam e cultural
anxiety tow ard b eing attacked, b eset, b led to death, b u tch ered , and eaten as
game, in a w o rd , devoured. M oreo ver, conversing w ith o ld in fo rm an ts con
vinces an y field -w o rker that p red atio n , far from being a figu re o f speech or
a vague b elief, is experienced w ith a real sense o f victim iz atio n . O ld people
are ad am ant th at facing an ou tsider is facin g som eone b e lo n g in g to a more
pow erful species, som eone w h o is set to kill and con su m e its H u aorani vic
tim. F u rth e rm o re, all these tales seem to ju stify the rad ical exclusion o f
those w h o h ave left the group an d the m ilitant o p p o sitio n again st all con
tact, exchange, o r trade w ith ou tsid ers o n the ground th at all outsiders are
cannibals w h o se sole m otivation is. to p rey on insiders, the o n ly true people.
C u ltu ra lly fram ed in this way, the social universe co m p rises two basic
categories: h u aoran i and cohuori. T h e H u aorani, as a p e o p le , are radically
different fro m all non -H u aoran i, w h o are defined as p red ato rs and hence,
others. T h e differen ce is categorical, o r essential, in the sen se that huaorani
are victim s o f coh uori (in clu din g h u en e). H uaorani an d co h u o ri are like
two d ifferen t species, two d ifferent k in d s o f beings. T h e ir o n ly possible re
lationship is u nilateral predation. L iterally, cohuori are p red ato rs and huao
rani prey. T h is is continu ou sly repeated in everyday co n versatio n about the
past, esp ecially w hen trekking a lo n g rivers where v io len t fig h tin g w ith Z a
paros, Q u ich u a s, rubber tappers, a n d explorers o ccu rred . M oreover, the
vivid co llective awareness o f h a v in g to engage perio d ically in violen t con
frontations w ith outsiders is alw ays expressed from the v ic tim ’s standpoint,
even w h en H u a o ra n i expeditions are in fact not m erely to defen d them
Huaorani Nomadic Isolationism 53
selves but to initiate the hostilities a n d attack first. A s the lo n g -tim e w arrio r
Cugui once p u t it: “ O u r grandfathers u sed to flee or to fight b a c k .” T h e re
lation o f predation is unilateral and n on recip ro cal; one species is alw ays the
predator, the other always preyed u p o n .5 A ll differences are erased in this
unequal and perpetual duel opposin g tw o --- and no m ore than tw o----su b
ject positions, to use Viveiros de C a stro ’s term in o logy (1998a).
T he im m utable and endless com b at b etw een predator and prey, presen t
ed from a victim ’s perspective, takes o n a natural, that is, in evitab le, charac
ter, as if in terlockin g two asym m etrical destinies. T h e absolute an d quasi-
ontological character o f the dual o p p o sitio n o f h u ao ran i-co h u o ri is
confirmed b y the m yth o f origin, w h ic h tells about the tree o f life an d the
great flood.6 T h e m yth starts as follow s:
In the beginning o f time, the earth w as flat; there were no forests, no hills. T h e
earth was like a dried, barren, and endless beach, stranded at the foot o f a giant
ceibo tree. T h is tree, attached to heaven b y a strong vine, was the on ly source o f
shade against the strong sun. O nly seedlings growing under its protective shade
could escape the suns merciless heat; this is w h y there were no hills and no
forests. T h ere was also no moon and no night either. All that was alive dwelled in
the giant tree. It was like a house. T h e livin g slept in the tree and fed on its fruits.
There were no gardens, no need to visit, and food was shared by all. In those
times o f beginning, people formed on e big group. H um ans and anim als were not
yet separated. O n ly birds were different and lived apart: the doves, the on ly game
obtainable, and the dangerous H arpy E agle, w h o swooped dow n on people and
doves alike. Life in those times w ould have been good to live, if it had not been
for the giant preying bird.
The S ca rred B o d y
W h en su rvivo rs tell about past w ars, th ey invariably illustrate th eir story
by exh ibitin g th eir scars. T h e very fact o f seeing, and letting th eir in terlocu
tors see, the a n cie n t m arks is often en o u gh for the victim s to start giv in g de
tailed in fo rm a tio n th at is often left o u t w h en they just talk ab o u t “ the angry
tim es.” In o th e r w o rd s, scars trigger the com m u n ication o f facts that allow
nonparticipants to internalize as accu rately as the protagonists, and share
in, the experien ce o f deaths resulting from pi'1'.
M ore than m n e m o n ic devices, scars ard b o d ily im prints re m in d in g w h o
ever sees them th at spears are w eapons p u rposefu lly designed to cause suf
fering and to k ill.10 H uaorani spears are th in n in e-to-ten -feet-lon g pieces o f
hard palm w o o d . D ouble-h an d ed , th ey end in tw o fire-hardened heads o f a
triangular shape. T h e heads, o f w h ich on e is usually n otch ed, are as sharp
and cu tting as m etallic blades. T h e y can be sharpened again b u t generally
break o f f in the v ic tim s body. O n ce a spear is thrust, it can n ot be recovered
easily. T h is is o w in g as much to the w a y it is designed as to the stren gth w ith
w hich it is th ru st. T h ru st fiercely an d designed to kill b y in flictin g deep
w ounds at close ran ge, tearing organs, an d spillin g blood in p ro fu sio n , they
are left in the b o d ies o f dying enem ies. A s I learned from dem o n stratio n s on
dum m ies, the b arb ed points, aim ed prim arily at the low er ab d o m en , are
m oved to an d fro to cause m axim u m internal hem orrhage.
V ictim s’ b o d ie s are left exposed to the elem ents and to scaven gers, w ith,
on average, e ig h t to ten spears deeply b u ried in the trunk. C o rp se s (tomen-
ga bad in i h u in te y o m e, literally ‘this person’s flesh is rotting a w a y ’) are left to
rot. A ll the sto ries an d accounts I collected , as w ell as the n u m ero u s in for
mal con versation s I had with guests, in fo rm an ts, and friends o n the subject,
all agree that en em ies are left to rot, th eir bodies riddled w ith spears. T h e
flesh gets p a rtly eaten by vultures, a n d the rest decays in “ ju ice s” that filter
into the forest gro u n d . Soon o n ly the bones rem ain; they lo o k like tapir
(tite) bones a n d are quickly foun d an d eaten b y the giant an teater {(¡to). A t
least this is w h a t h appens i f the victim is not foun d by k in fo lk . I f the victim
is already d ead w h en found, he or she is buried in a shallow , east-w est ori
ented grave, w ith the face turned to w ard the east. T h e grave is covered with
rotten w o o d a n d dried palm leaves.
A su rp risin gly h igh num ber o f v ic tim s, however, are reported to have sur
vived b y g a th e rin g enough strength to pull spears out o f th eir bodies. V ic
tims m ay also be saved by relatives w h o arrive in time to cut the protru d in g
spears at n o tch level. T h e w ounds heal over the barbed heads that remain
H uaorani Nomadic Isolationism 59
inside the body, u n til they are expelled so m e w eeks after the attack. T h e suf
fering inflicted on the speared body cu lm in ates in the excruciating pain and
slow death o f m o rib u n d victim s, unless these are foun d by com passionate
kin and co-residents w h o dig a fairly large and deep grave, and b u ry them
alive. W hen the v ic tim is male, as is m ost o ften the case, fem ale kin lin e the
grave with b am b o o m ats on which th ey la y the d yin g body to hasten his
death and put an en d to his suffering. T h e re are m an y stories o f d y in g fa
thers buried alive w ith one o f their ch ild ren , u sually the last o n e ,1 1 so, I was
told, “the father does n ot leave the lan d a lo n e, so he does not feel lo n ely in
the afterw orld.” M y classificatory sisters o n ce show ed m e h ow this was
done, and as-they w ere p u ttin g a yo u ng in fa n t o n the pretend grave, they ex
plained to m e th at the onohuoca ‘b o d y -so u l’ 12 o f a buried speared victim
who dies by su ffo ca tio n does not go b ack to its birth place but stays right
there. T h e burial place, w ith its trapped ‘ b o d y -so u l’ becom es a place v iv id
ly remembered.
People killed each other because o f lies. N an icab oiri ‘longhouses’ fo u g h t against
one another. T h o se w h o lived north and south were healthy and norm al. Th ose
who lived west an d east always caused trouble. Before, there were m ore H uaorani
than ants. B u t th ey w ould kill each other periodically. . .'.-wiped ou t th ey w ould
end. Then, they w o u ld grow a little bit, then a little bit more. H ou ses were so
large then, full w ith people. . . . H u n tin g territories were carefully looked after
and protected. M a n io c was planted on all sides. People were happy. . . . far from
them the idea o f splitting or leaving their grandparents’ land. T h e longhouses
were crowded, and there were m any ahuene [senior house heads]. T h e greatest
was Queyebe. H e used to say: “do not kill, live in harmony and gro w m ore chil
dren.” But w hen he died, the furor o f k illin g caught the people back. You see, it’s
like when the great ceibo tree falls in the forest. Everything gets torn off. T he
vines are pulled away. Everything around is destroyed. Exactly the sam e happens
Shell Mera
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62 H uaorani Nomadic Isolationism
w ith the H uaorani. I f it was not so, w e w ould be as num erous as the Quichua or
the Shuar. W e true human beings have destroyed ourselves with fallen trees,
snake bites, malaria fever, fighting, and spearing each other. T h e forebears left,
som e h ead ing south. T h ey all left, som e heading east, and, so, few people now
rem ain.
meeting an d often ignore one a n o th er’s exact location. H ow ever, their iso
lation fro m one another is relative, as they are conn ected— at least poten
tially— th rough personal relationship s; further, cognate k in livin g in nonal
lied lon ghou ses reactivate their ties w henever spouses are scarce or social
disruptions caused by warfare too acute. T h e follow in g stories illustrate the
close lin k betw een failure in secu rin g m arriage agreem ents and cycles o f war
and peace. A s these three stories show , whereas the h u ao m o n i-h u aran i o p
position structures marriage allian ces, killin g raids are directed against
huarani ‘en e m y others.’
In the late 1950s two large h u aran i groups were at w a r w ith each other,
the M o ip a iri ‘those o f M oipa’ an d the G u iqu etairi ‘those o f G uiqueta’ ,
despite the fact that M oipa had b een livin g w ith G u iq u e ta as a child. O n ly
two w o m en from M oipa’s gro u p w ere living w ith the G u iq u eta iri. Eight
years after a raid, in which m a n y o f the M oipairi died, the tw o groups had
largely fo rgotten about each other, in clu d in g their respective location in the
forest. T h e G u iqu etairi tricked the M o ip a iri, w ho needed spouses for their
young adu lts, into accepting an in vitation to a m a n io c-d rin k in g festival
they w ere organizing. But far fro m ally in g w ith the M o ip a iri, the G u iq u e
tairi killed them o f f before the en d o f the d rinking festiv a l.18
A n in fo rm an t from the B ab eiri g ro u p told me the fo llo w in g story:
Ima was m y father. He was very good, a man o f peace. He kept telling us to live
in peace, to never kill each other, but live well, planting and growing manioc in
abundance to prepare large e'eme. H e became very ill and eventually died. After
the great man’s death, the men o f his nanicabo [longhouse] were fuming with
rage; they wanted to avenge his death. One o f them wanted to marry Omene’s
daughter. Omene was a relative, but Omene was mean, mean, mean, stingy; he
said the girl was too young to be given in marriage yet. On the very day when my
father Ima died, the frustrated prospective groom and his friends killed Omene.
They were huarani. They, too, had promised us a spouse, but they lied; no spouse
was given, so we became enemies.
in g grou ps through tit-fo r-ta t vengeance, the b alan ce being restored is that
o f un w an ted deaths m atch ed w ith wanted ones. M orib u n d victim s are
ab an d o n ed to their fate. T h e y m ay survive, th ey m a y be devoured b y v u l
tures, o r they m ay b e fo u n d b y relatives w h o then give them a proper b u r
ial. T o use Fausto’s (1998) term inology, whereas co h u o ri consum e h u ao ran i
“p ro d u ctively,” h u a o ra n i do n ot appropriate th eir enem ies’ external su b je c
tivities; they do not in c o rp o rate aliens.
F ro m a H u aorani p ersp ective, the victors are alw ays aliens, the v ictim s al
w ays insiders, and w a rfa re alw ays productive o f victim s. H uaorani are v ic
tim s w h o neither tu rn in to predators nor use w a rfare as a form o f n egative
reciprocity. T h e y a cce p t that their pow erful neighbors reproduce th e m
selves through “ re b o u n d in g violence” (Bloch 1992) but choose to resist the
p re d a to ry logic b y re versin g the sym bolic order an d pu ttin g the p rey at the
center, in other w o rd s, b y su bjectifyin g them selves as victim s. T h e lan g u age
o f vengeance is used to exp lain to the anthropologist w h y a particular act o f
“ in tentional life-ta k in g ” w as perpetrated; it is n o t because killing o b ey s a
lo g ic o f retaliation b u t because victim hood an d iden tity are in trin sically
related. A s the discu ssion o f funerary rites has dem onstrated, the focus o f at
ten tion is on the v ic tim , n o t the killer. T h e victim o f internal w arfare is ty p
ically a dyin g w arrior, eith e r the one w ho w as attacked by surprise, d efen se
less and unprepared, o r the one who attacked b u t w as fatally w o u n d ed in a
cou n terattack, the fo rm e r b ein g far more co m m o n than the latter. In b o th
cases, however, it is th e kille d , not the killer, w h o is culturally and so cia lly
v a lu e d . D y in g w a rrio rs b elo n g to their kin, w h o rem em ber and keep alive
the tale o f the circu m stan ces in which they died (k illin g raids are alw ays d e
scrib ed by the v ictim s a n d their kin, never b y the instigators). Tales o f w a r
fare are stories abou t m e n w h o , buried alive b y th eir kin, die as cogn ate k in ,
n o w fu lly tran sform ed in to mem bers o f their w iv es’ groups and attached
fo rever to their w ives’ h om elan d . I f being killed is the m ost hum an death
(A lb ert 1985), it is b ecau se one dies as a victim an d a kin, in short, as an
insider.
T h e fact that to b e k ille d is culturally m ore sign ifican t than to kill is even
tru e o f m ale insiders w h o , possessed by pi'i, turn in to alienated killers, b e
co m e as w ild and n o n h u m a n as jaguars and co h u o ri, and create othern ess
fro m w ithin . F or even th en , it is the victim s b u ried alive (with or w ith o u t a
ch ild) w h o are rem em b ered as insiders w orth aven gin g, whereas the w ild
k illers are not. W h e n k illers are eventually killed , their death is an en d in it
self, and they are rem em b ered as cultural anti-heroes featuring in sto ry
telling. H o m icid e is n o t presented as an exp lo it, an act o f bravery, o r the
Huaorani Nomadic Isolationism 67
meters aw ay), an occupation they call ómere iiante gobopa (literally ‘forest
visitin g in order to bring so m eth in g back’) and th at en com passes all their—
in practice undifferentiated— h u n tin g and g a th e rin g activities.1 O m ere
aante go b o p a is as much a style o f w alkin g as it is a m ean s o f subsistence.
W h en w alk in g in the “cru isin g” fashion, a style o f d isp lacem en t m arked ly
differen t from the one used w h en visiting distant kin o r w h en tran sportin g
food fro m one place to another, people are not s im p ly ch eck in g the state o f
their “ larder.” T h ey collect w h a t they need for the day, reco rd in g patches o f
resources fo r later use, and m o n ito r vegetation g ro w th an d changes in gen
eral. I f they are not already fam iliar w ith the area, th ey also look for old
cultigens and other plant species denoting fo rm er h u m a n occu pation .
L iv in g in th e Forest A gain
It is n ot before m y adoptive h ouse gro u p 2 left D a y u n o fo r go o d and asked
m e to jo in their trekking exp ed itio n that I cam e to appreciate fu lly the ex
tent to w hich Huaorani livelih o o d depends on forest resources. A fte r years
o f residence (more than tw en ty years) in this relatively o ld sed en tary village
w ith a school and an airstrip (see m ap pref.2), the N ih u a r i ch ose to revert to
a m ore nom adic way o f life or, in their ow n exp ressio n , aye ómere queente
quehuem oni ‘ live in the forest again’ , a change o f circu m stan ce they d e
scribed to m e as illustrative o f the du ra n i ba i ‘tra d itio n a l’ (literally ‘as was
practiced by past generations’) w ay o f subsisting. H a v in g left D ay u n o es
sentially for political reasons— they no longer w ish e d to su p p o rt the village
chief, a fem ale affine w h o m they foun d d o m in ee rin g an d exploitative—
they lived their nom adic forest existence w ith ju b ila tio n ; th ey had regained
freedom . T h e y trekked for so m e m onths th rough a p a rt o f the forest they
had used as hunting territory in the past and that th ey associated w ith the
lives o f their forebears, and, finally, they decided to create a n ew co m m u n i
ty alon g the Shiripuno R iver (in H uaorani, Q u eh ueire O no ‘the river o f the
cannibals’).3 T h e exact site o f the co m m u n ity w as ch an ged three tim es
before its final location w as established n orth east o f their old village,
D ayu n o , at a tw o-and-a-half d ay w alkin g distance.
F o r a year or so, Q u ehu eire O n o w as noth in g m o re than a large h un tin g
cam p. L ike most o f the w estern part o f H u aoran i lan d , Q u eh u eire O n o is
characterized by rugged terrain featuring three sizab le hills d o m in atin g the
narrow valley that has fo rm ed alon g the U p per S h irip u n o , an d by red and
unfertile soils (Sourdat and C u sto d e 1980; C a ñ a d a s 19 83; I G M [Instituto
G eográfico M ilitar] 1986). T w ice du ring m y first stay I saw the w ater levels
yo Harvesting the Forest’s Natural Abundance
ed essentially o f forest food , tree-dw elling gam e, num erous fru its, germ i
nated seeds, w ild roots, and so forth. N o w in a part o f the forest n o t yet
transformed b y sedentarization and a gricu ltu re, people hunted m ain ly
monkeys and b ird s, and used their b lo w p ip es m ore often than th ey did in
D ayuno. T h is is perhaps because b lo w p ip es, w h ich are m uch lo n ger and
heavier than sh o tg u n s, w ere too cu m b ersom e fo r hunting around D ayu n o .
In D ayuno, because hunters had to w a lk lo n ger distances to find gam e and
because it was m o re convenient to h u n t g ro u n d —-rather than tree5—an i
mals, shotguns w ere used m uch m ore freq u en tly.4 A n oth er sign ifican t d if
ference between the h u n tin g behavior I ob served in the recently form ed
Quehueire O n o w as that hunting seem ed to be a m uch less specialized ac
tivity than in the o ld D ay u n o . H u n tin g in Q u eh u eire O n o was carried out
alongside a w h o le range o f parallel activities su ch as exploring the forest and
extracting useful resources.
Th e h un tin g an d gathering I observed d u rin g these m onths o f trekking,
far from representing separate and d ifferen tiated productive activities co r
responding to a fixed division o f labor b y gen der or age, form ed a single
process, not ju st o f extraction but also o f k n o w in g and discovering the fo r
est. C onsiderable tim e was invested, an d great interest shown, in all kinds
o f collecting activities, conveniently su b su m ed under the above-m entioned
expression om ere dan te gobopa ‘forest v isitin g in order to bring som eth in g
back.’ A lm ost ev ery day, som eone in the lo n gh o u se w ould hunt sm all arbo
real species an d gather. B oth men and w o m e n had a great kn ow ledge o f the
habits, habitats, a n d feed ing cycles o f m o st arboreal species. In ferrin g from
fruiting cycles, w eath er conditions, and m a n y other signs, they co u ld pre
dict animal b eh avio r and locate an im als th ey could not see precisely.
Thanks to th eir acute senses, especially those o f hearing and sm ell, they
could feel the presen ce o f anim als and an ticip ate their next m ove. C h ild ren
tended to hun t a n d gather in bands, never g o in g beyond a five-kilom eter ra
dius around the lon ghou se.
Table 4.1 su m m arizes quantitative data o f w h at adult m em bers o f nine
house groups h u n te d and collected over tw e n ty days in N o vem b er—D e
cember 1989.5 D u r in g these— not all con secu tive— twenty days, 59 m o n
keys, 33 birds, 10 collared peccaries, 2 deer, an d 4 river turtles w ere hunted;
50 middle-sized an d large fish and 8 k ilo gram s o f small fish were fished; 150
kilograms o f m o rete palm fruit, 113 k ilo gram s o f ungurahua palm fru it, 28
kilograms o f u b illas and 9 kilogram s o f o th er unidentified fruits w ere gath
ered; and, finally, m ore than 750 omacabo leaves, at least 810 mo leaves, m ore
than 24 cham bira leaves, 20 unidentified p a lm leaves, and 50 bam bo o stem s
were collected (see table 4.2 for H u aorani an d scientific nam es).6
TABLE 4 .I
Extractive Activities Carried O u t in Quehueire O no
in November—D ecem ber 1989
GATHERED GATHERED N U M B E R OF
FOOD MATERIALS PEOPLE
»■NVOLVED
2 cuhuc, w it h h is w ife
3 k g s s m a ll fis h ,
2 1 m id d le -s iz e d F is h in g P A R T Y :
f is h , 2 9 la r g e fis h 4 a d u lt s a n d
5 c h ild r e n
3 m t . c o lle c to rs
day 5 3 cu h u e, 2 am o n a n to c a , 5 0 k g s 2 h u n te rs
1 0 fr u it
c o lle c t o r s
day 6 1 iw a , 1 p a q u e m o le a v e s 1 1 0 2 h u n te rs
2 0 oona 3 m t . c o lle c t o r s
day 7 3 b ird s 2 h u n te rs
(2 n ah u an e, 2 m t . c o lle c t o r s
1 abam o)
1 p a q u e , 2 iw a
day 8 1 g a ta , 1 cu h u e m o le a v e s 3 5 0 2 h u n ters .
2 m t . c o lle c t o r s
day 9 1 g a t a , 3 b a rfc , 1 le a fo o n ^ , 5 h u n te rs
d ay 10 2 iw a , 1 b a r£ 1 le a fo o n fc , 2 h u n te rs
m o le a v e s , 4 m t . c o lle c t o r s
om acabo
day 11 1 g a t a , 2 iw a p e to m o 1 8 k g s 3 l e a v e s o o n fc 2 h u n te rs
2 m t . c o lle c t o r s
2 fr u it
c o lle c t o r s
Harvesting the Forest’s Natural Abundance 75
ta b le 4 .1 (co n tin u ed )
GATHERED GATHERED N U M B E R OF
FOOD MATERIALS PEOPLE
INVOLVED
12 5 k g s o f ve ry 4 le a v e s o o n i 2 fis h e r m e n
s m a ll fis h , 3 a m o , a n d w iv e s
7 d e y e , 2 g a ta , 3 h u n te rs
1 b are 4 m t. c o lle c t o r s
13 3 g a ta , 2 d e y e , p eto m o 5 kgs 4 h u n te rs
1 to u can n a n to ca 2 0 kgs 1 fru it c o lle c t o r
14 1 d e y e , 1 g a ta , n a n to c a 8 0 kgs 4 le a v e s o o n e 2 h u n te rs
1 b are 2 m t. c o lle c to r s
5 fru it c o lle c to rs
15 1 g a ta 3 5 0 m o le a v e s , 1 h u n te r
5 0 o m a c a b o le a v e s 1 0 m t. c o lle c to r s
16 1 d e y e, 1 b are 2 0 p a lm le a v e s 1 h u n te r
2 m t. c o lle c to r s
18 1 am o, 2 0 kgs yoh ué 1 o o n e le a f 3 h u n te rs
1 d e er, 1 g ata an d 2 boys
1 fru it a n d
m t. c o lle c t o r
T A B L E 4 .2
Huaorani N am es Mentioned in Table 4.1
Compared with C o m m on and Scientific N am es
C lose a n d D istan t G am e
Like the N ih u airi discussed in the previous section, m ost H uaorani have
access to abu n d an t forest resources. T o gather and to h u n t are not generally
experienced as hazardous o ccu p atio n s. H unters rarely co m e back without
game. In fact, returns are high, an d everyone eats at least 2 0 0 gram s o f meat
each day. T h e localized d istrib u tio n o f favored species o f gam e anim als in
different areas o f the forest is w ell k n o w n and fairly predictab le.8 I f hunting
is not experienced as the risky a n d unreliable business depicted by m axi
mization theorists for w hom h u n tin g is largely a m atter o f lu ck (game ani
mals b ein g few and far betw een), it is because the locatio n o f game and
j6 Harvesting the Forests Natural Abundance
other useful resources is well k n o w n and broadly p redictab le. O n the one
hand, species habitats, m ovem en ts govern ed by foragin g an d m atin g habits,
and the w a y that seasonal cycles o f forest fru it influence the distribution o f
game an im als is well u nderstood, an d , on the other, the forest, w hich is in
herited as a place full o f resources, is exploited in a w a y th at keeps resources
in constant an d adequate supply.
H u aorani traditionally avoided m ain rivers and lived o n h illtops, so fish
ing, an activity undertaken m ore b y w o m en and children than b y men, was
m arginal. Sm all fish were— an d still are— stunned w ith a variety o f plant
poisons an d then scooped ou t in nets knotted by w o m en . Larger fish were
som etim es speared from w ater p o o ls b y m en w ith long, flexib le lances made
o f palm w o o d . Since the creation o f p rim ary schools, w h ic h has accelerated
the processes o f sedentarization, riverin e adaptation, accu ltu ration , and
m arket in tegration, fishing has b ecom e central to the subsistence econom y
in m any settlem ents (Lu 19 9 9 :136 —39). H ence one o f the greatest changes in
their subsistence econom y has been th eir recent a d ap tation to the riverine
habitat.
B efore the introduction o f sh o tg u n s in the m id -19 7 0 s, the H uaorani
hunted b irds and m onkeys ex clu sively w ith blow pipes, an d white-lipped
peccaries ( Tajassu peccart) w ith spears, although the w h ite -lip p ed peccary
(the o n ly gro u n d anim al con sid ered edible) was h un ted o n ly occasionally.
T h e H u a o ra n i had no other w e ap o n s— no traps, bows an d arrow s, o r clubs.
As the fo llo w in g testim ony fro m Pegonca makes clear, m o st other animal
species w ere taboo:
Traditionally, people only ate birds and m onkeys, never tapir. Today, Huaorani
see river people (Quichua) eat everyth in g, any kind o f m eat, so they do the same.
In the past, we hunted deye [spider m onkey], gata [woolly m onkey], iw a [howler
m onkey], ure [white-lipped peccary], cuhue [guan], bare [curassow], an d yahue
[toucan]. W e did not hunt amo [collared peccary], tite [tapir], nor ompure [giant
river otter], which is like a brother; w e have similar bodies, it w ould be like you
eating y o u r dog. We never hunted tapir with spears for the sam e reason, it would
walk near the longhouse like a brother, w e could not eat it [see table 2 for these
anim als’ scientific names].
I learned to civilize in T ih u en o [m ission base o f the Su m m er Institute o f Lin
guistics--- L .R .; see Rival 1992]. I w as taught to sew m y clothes and to use a shot
gun in hunting. It’s amazing h ow the m onkey falls from the tree right away when
you shoot it with a gun. It doesn’t clin g onto the branch. M y son worked for the
C om pany. I waited for the m oney, and I bought a new gu n. T h a t was not long
ago, w hen I was still living in D am u intaro.
H arvesting the Forest’s N atural Abundance 77
As a civilized person in Tihueno, I w as taught how to eat all kinds o f meat that
walked on the ground. At first, I vom ited. But Babe’s w ife taught me the
Quichua ways. She got us a dog, so w e could hunt peccaries. W e had seen dogs
before, but we were very scared o f th em ; they attack and bite people like jaguars.
Dr. Vela [an Ecuadorian anthropologist w h o was working for the Ecuadorian na
tional oil com pany, C E P E — L .R .] got us a G erm an Shepherd. W e gave the pup
pies aw ay to m y relatives. 1 kept on e; it grew big, and I w ent h u n tin g w ith it.
With the dog, I could now chase cohuane [deer], tota [capybara], amo [collared
peccary]. We all learned little by little, each for his own benefit.
co n te xt, stealing m eans th at anim als help them selves to food that is n ot
theirs b u t to w hich they are entitled, in the logic o f dem and-sharing, a p rin
cip le o f exchange I discu ss extensively in the next chapter. In other w o rd s,
fru its legitim ately b elo n g to hum ans, but hum ans h ave to put up w ith a n i
m als’ d em an ds, not o n ly because animals need fo o d to subsist, fatten, an d
rep rod u ce but also b ecau se i f people were to stop sh arin g fruit w ith an im als,
the an im als w ou ld steal the seeds, hindering the reproduction o f fru itin g
p lan t species. Several m y th s explicitly elaborate on the need to share fru it
w ith m o n keys to keep th em close and to ensure the con tin u ed sym b io tic re
latio n sh ip between p e o p le , arboreal game anim als, and fruit trees (R iva l
19 9 3 3 :6 4 2 -4 3 ).
S ec o n d , gam e an im als are kept close and in p len tifu l supply th ro u gh
sh a m a n ic practices. Ja g u a rs, w h o are believed to co n tro l the distribu tion o f
an im a ls and to attract tro o p s o f monkeys or flocks o f birds close to h u m an
settlem en ts, becom e the ad o p tive “sons” o f sham ans. W h en “visitin g” th eir
“ p arents” (shamans in a trance and their w ives), th ey tell hunters w h ere to
fin d abu n dan t gam e resources (Rival 19986:627—28). It appears, therefore,
th at H u ao ran i sham ans, u n lik e theirT ukanoan counterparts (R eich el-D o l-
m a to ff 19 9 0 ; 1996:82—9 9 ; A rh e m 1996), w h o use th eir pow er to ensure the
co n sta n t regeneration o f gam e, are prim arily co n cern ed w ith co n tro llin g
the spatial distribution o f gam e animals and, in particular, attracting th em
b ack w h en they flee fro m peop le. In other w ords, H u ao ran i sham ans use fil
ial relations to keep an im a ls close, such as m on keys, w h ich are already q u ite
lim ite d in their d istrib u tio n and ecological requirem ents.
F u rth e r insight in to H u a o ra n i hunting m a y be derived by co m p arin g it
to M a k u n a hunting. A rh e m (1996) shows that an ethical code he calls “ the
co sm ic foodw eb” u n d erlies both the M akuna sh am an ic system and h u n tin g
practices, as the M a k u n a believe that hunters use sham anic m eans to e m
p o w e r species to rep ro d u ce and multiply. G ive n th at anim al Spirit O w n e rs
allocate their “anim al ch ild re n ” to human beings, k illin g for food, A rh e m
exp lain s, involves an act o f reciprocity (19 2).11 F o r the M akuna, k illin g a
g am e anim al and ea tin g its flesh liberates its essential, spiritual essence,
w h ic h can then be re em b o d ied (i.e., reborn) in an oth er anim al.
H u m a n and anim al reprodu ction are not so directly and ob vio u sly in te r
co n n ected for the H u a o ra n i, whose sham anic system does not represent
recip ro city as the m o st appropriate mode o f exchange between h u m an s,
sp irits, and anim als. W h e re a s hunting is a k in d o f m ale gardening fo r the
M a k u n a (Arhem 19 9 6 :19 9 ), it is a form o f gath erin g for the H u a o ra n i,
w h ereb y using and c o n su m in g natural resources does not im pair— an d p o s
Harvesting the Forests N atural Abundance 79
T h e M a n a g em en t o f P la n t R esources
H u a o ra n i ecology is to be prim arily based on p e o p le’s experience o f h o w
d ifferen t tree species grow , m atu re, and reproduce, an d w hich anim als are
related to w h ich plant species. A lth o u gh people’s u n derstan d in g o f the rain
forest ec o lo g y seems lim itless, special attention is given to a few features,
all associated w ith gro w th an d age. T h e foxest, m onito ome ‘our lan d ’ o r
sim p ly om e ‘hom eland’ , ‘te rrito ry ’ , o r ‘forest’ , is con ceptu alized as a p a tch
w o rk o f successional fallow s. People call the forest a ro u n d Q uehueire O n o ,
and, in fact, the w hole o f th e o ld Protectorate ah u en e ‘the place where trees
have g ro w n again’ , that is, seco n d a ry forest.15 S e c o n d a ry forests are fu rth e r
d ivid ed into huiyencore (fo u r- to ten-year-old clearings characterized b y
the freq u en cy o f balsa trees), huyenco (ten- to tw en ty-year-o ld clearings),
h u in em e (tw enty- to fo rty -ye a r-o ld clearings ch aracterized by the high in c i
dence o f adult palm s), a n d d u ra n i ahue (forty- to a hundred-year-old cle ar
ings, rem arkable for th eir b ig trees). H uinem e forests w ere traditionally the
preferred sites in w h ich to establish m ain residences. H ow ever, all types o f
forest w e re—-and still are----co n tin u o u sly visited an d lived in, for lon ger o r
shorter stays.
M u c h m ore research is need ed on ecological z o n in g according to local
percep tio n , but the p re lim in a ry and rather su p erficial data I Was able to
gather w h ile in the field in d ica te that the H u a o ra n i recognize that sh o rt-
and long-term disturbances such as tree falls an d river activity influence the
d istrib u tio n o f anim als a n d plants. In fact, changes associated w ith gap d y
nam ics and vegetational su ccession , that is, eco logical processes, are m a n ip
ulated and used as ad d itio n al exploitable forest resources.
A great num ber o f cu ltigen s that are not plan ted in gardens are co n su m ed
daily, an d num erous p lan t species are encouraged to gro w outside cu ltivated
areas, as people engage in va rio u s d aily activities ( p lan tin g , selecting, tran s
p lan tin g , protecting, u sin g , an d discarding) th at h ave a direct or in d irect
effect on the distribu tion o f species, be they fu lly dom esticated or not. F o r
exam p le, I saw w om en p lan t part o f the vine th ey h a d brought for stu n n in g
fish near the stream b efo re g o in g h om e w ith th eir catch . O n e threw the seeds
o f c u n i (a bush w hose leaves are m ashed and m ix e d w ith clay to p ro d u ce a
stu n n in g poison) a lo n g the stream w here she h ad fished. She had also
th ro w n som e o f the sam e seeds in her m anioc p lan ta tio n the previous day.
Harvesting the Forest’s N atural Abundance 81
the grandparents used to live there, they built their Ionghouse on it, they lived
together w ithout splitting up, and they m ade gardens to feast w ith th e enemies.
. . . Do you see this fish poison vine? M y grandm other must have m ade it grow
here, look, there used to be a creek down there, she fished in it.
I heard similar rem arks over and over again w h ile w alking th ro u g h the for
est with inform ants. In the course o f liv in g , a residential grou p h u n ts, gath
ers, and m anages a w h o le range o f u seful plants along h u n tin g trails and
streams. People c o o k a n d eat, discard fru it seeds, throw roots, a n d cu t dow n
trees, which gives ligh t fo r other tree species to grow. People are totally
aware o f these processes and o f the in tim ate , sym biotic co n n e ctio n s be
tween their b ein g alive (i.e., prod ucing an d consum ing) and th e state o f the
forest.
Collective m em ories o f past house g ro u p s, specific forebears, a n d m em o
Harvesting the Forest’s NaturalAbundance 85
w a rtim e, palm groves are destro yed to m ake spears. E n e m y groups destroy
each o th e r’s groves as a m eans n o t o n ly to increase th eir stock o f precious
h ard w o o d b u t also to suppress social memory. W ith o u t these landm arks, a
gro u p loses its sense o f co n tin u ity and its claim to a particu lar part o f the
forest.
A lth o u g h chonta palm groves cou ld not persist w ith o u t hum an interven
tion , th ey are not cultivated. M ain tain e d through activities o f con sum ption ,
they are the products o f the activities o f people fro m the past w hom those
w h o c o m e to feed on the fru it id entify as their deceased grandparents o r
great-grandparents. D espite the fact that the cu rren t practice in sedenta-
rized villag es is, like in m a n y oth er Am azonian societies, to plant chonta
palm s in sw iddens and b ack d o o r yards, the old cu ltu ral m eanings have n ot
co m p le te ly died out. A s discu ssed at the begin n in g o f this chapter, w h en
fam ilies like the N ih u airi leave a com m u n ity after a d isp u te w ith its leader,
th ey n ever abandon their gardens w ithout felling all their chonta palm s, a
p recau tio n th ey do not take fo r other crops; large b an an a and m anioc p lan
tation s, cacao, coffee, and groves o f citrus trees are sim p ly left behind. T h is
practice indicates that ch o n ta palm s do still stan d fo r social continuity.
M o reo ver, planted palm s, w h ic h are treated like in tro d u ced food crops, are
still d istin gu ish ed from the ancestral groves to w h ic h p eop le continue to go
every year. Resulting from sy m b io tic relations p erpetu ated through co n
su m p tio n , chonta palm groves are not w illfully p lan ted but m ay be d e
stro yed deliberately.
P alm fru its, and m ost esp ecially the chonta palm (Bactris gasipaes), p lay
an im p o rta n t role in the fe rtility rituals held th ro u g h o u t northw est A m azo
nia, fo r instance, am ong the S h u a r (Pelizzaro 1983) o r the Yagua (C h aum eil
2 0 0 1) b u t m ost notably a m o n g the groups o f the V a u p e s-R io N egro region
p e rta in in g to the Y u ru pari cu lt com plex (S. H u g h -Jo n e s 1979). Pelizzaro
(19 83:56, 81) notes that U w i, the ch on ta palm’s sp irit, reproduces itself w ith
o u t ever d y in g and that the S h u a r celebrate in this palm the life o f plants
that germ in ate and grow w ith o u t hum an in terven tion . T o the Shuar, the
ch o n ta p a lm is the tree o f life, the seed that fecu n d s the w hole o f nature
(Pelizzaro 1983:135). E th n o grap h ers o f the Y u ru p a ri cu lt com plex have
p ayed m o re attention to the role o f sacred flutes a n d to the sym bolism o f
c u ltiva ted plants— such as m a n io c, tobacco, and coca— than to the use an d
m e a n in g o f palm fruits. H o w eve r, and despite the scarcity o f com parative
d escrip tio n s, it can easily be established that ritual dances to the sound o f
sacred flutes often involve the brin gin g in the lo n gh o u se o f large quantities
o f w ild o r cultivated fruits in the ripening season, m ost often o f ch on ta
Harvesting the Forest’s N atural Abundance 8/
A m azon h orticulturalists, such as the Yagua and the M a tis, and N orthw est
A m azon trekkers and foragers, su ch as the M akú , the C u iv a , and the H uao
rani, b ro a d ly share the same sy m b o lic association b etw een old chonta palm
groves, fertility, abundance, an d con tin u ity. H ow ever, a n d as I try to dem on
strate in the next section, the relation sh ip between th e liv in g and the dead
is co n ceptu alized quite d ifferen tly b y forest fruit h arvesters, w hose cultural
representations stress the benefits o f relyin g on naturally p len tifu l resources,
and b y ch o n ta palm cultivating gro u p s, w h o are p rim a rily concerned with
timeless ancestral essences and u n ch an g in g modes o f reciprocity.
T he G iv in g Environm ent
T h e “ n atu ral abundance” o f the forest is m ade m a n ifest in that omere
gom on ahuaoran i ‘people trek kin g’ d o n ot have to cu ltiva te, fo r they f i n d use
ful plants an d cultigens in o ld cam p s and abandoned h ou se sites or along
rivers o r trails. A lth ou gh a th orou g h botanical su rvey o f H u ao ran i land has
yet to be con d u cted , it is qu ite clear that the H u a o ra n i, like other A m azo
nian trekkers and foragers (Balee 19 9 4 ), have trad ition ally depended on an-
th ropoph ytes and sem idom esticates, and have used a w h o le range o f more
or less inten tio nal m anagem ent practices to en co u rag e the continuous
grow th o f certain fruit trees an d palm s in old sites w h ile facilitating the
p ro p agatio n o f certain plant species. A s explained in earlier sections, the en
viro n m e n t is n ot fully exploited (o n ly a small array o f w h a t is available is
eaten), b u t fo o d sources are p len tifu l in H uaorani lan d , fo r the forest, m od
ified b y the past activities o f lo n g dead people, is rich in resources.
N a tu ra l A bundance
T h e re is n o w ord in H u a o ra n i to translate literally w h a t I call natural
abu n da n ce, b u t this does not m ean that the term does n o t capture the in
digen ous representation o f the relationship betw een liv in g people, the for
est, and past generations. A n u m b e r o f superlatives, em p h a tic suffix m ark
ers, ad verb ial form s, and, ab o ve all, speech d iacritics (tone o f voice,
w ordless exclam ations, gestures) are used to co n vey the ravished pleasure
and en th u siastic excitation cau sed b y the sight— o r the recall— o f an abun
dance o f useful resources and fo od stu ff. H an d m ad e o b jects or processed
products d o not cause such ad m iratio n and enthusiasm . F o r exam ple, none
o f the aforem en tion ed superlatives w o u ld apply to a large m anioc garden
under p ro d u c tio n or a hip o f h u n te d gam e or collected nuts. A peccary herd
H arvesting the Forest’s N atural Abundance 8p
Trekking a n d H istory
In this chapter I have addressed the specific w a y s in w hich the H u ao ran i
in vo lve themselves p ra ctica lly w ith their forested en viron m en t and have
show n h ow these practices are intim ately co n n ected w ith a cultural c o n
stru ction o f the en viro n m en t as the dom ain o f n atu ral abundance,, p ro v id
in g them not only w ith fo o d and useful m aterials b u t also w ith the m eans
o f estab lish in g physical lin k s w ith the past. I h av e used the term n atu ral
abun dance to describe th e social practices b y w h ic h the H uaorani engage
w ith the forest and p articip ate actively in its b io cu ltu ral production and re
p ro d u ctio n , and to express that, in their view , the forest, far from b ein g a
pristine environm ent, is the prod u ct o f the life a ctivities o f past generations
that h ave transform ed it in to an environm ent rich in resources. T h ese re
sources can be tapped w ith o u t an y sanction o r m o ral obligation, and w ith
ou t an yth in g being asked in return.
W h ereas the previous ch a p ter linked trekking to the disruptions caused
b y vio len t death and w a rfare, w hich trigger cen trifu gal m ovem ents, d isp er
sion , fleeing, and w a n d e rin g , this chapter has exp lo red the links betw een
trekking, congregation, a n d attraction to life an d natural plenty. T h e past is
encountered while c ru isin g in the forest, and h isto ry is m ade as part o f the
in tricate relationship betw een the dependence on ecological cycles, such as
Harvesting the Forest’s N atural Abundance p}
m assive seeding or fructification , and the cultu ral reco gn ition o f past activ
ities, w h ich naturally increase forest resources. T h e past, however, is em i
n en tly continuous w ith the present, fo r subsistence p ro c u rin g relies on the
tappin g o f natural resources perceived as being p le n tifu l and as having their
origin in the past.
H u aorani subsistence strategies are entirely a d a p ted to the historicity o f
the landscape. Trekking, a central activity b y w h ic h the forest is culturally
transform ed without fo llo w in g a preset design is in tim a te ly related to fo r
aging in anthropom orphic forests. W hereas in tern al w arfare u n am bigu ou s
ly belongs to a bygone past k n o w n through m y th ica l o r biographical narra
tives, hunting, gathering, an d cu ltivatin g leave h u m a n m arks on the forest
that are continuously inscribed in the landscape. T h e past and the present,
as a result, are not easily distin guishable. A n d w h ereas vio len t deaths fu n c
tion as m nem onics that fix p articu lar events to p a rticu la r places and ge
nealogical ties to particular nam es, the reading o f h u m an activity in the
landscape encourages the naturalization o f social relatio n s, the forgetting o f
specific kinship ties, and the developm ent o f va gu e intergenerational asso
ciations w ith monito m em eiri (our forebears).28
L o ci o f natural abundance to w h ich people p e rio d ic a lly return are at once
im p ortan t sources o f raw m aterial and food, an cien t d w ellin gs, and burial
sites. T h ese places thus lin k together, on the on e h an d ,.gen eration s o f dead
and livin g people, and, on the other, interlocking life processes. Th ese life
processes “tell” the n on violent and continuous h isto ry m aterialized in the
forest environm ent, beyond the short-lived g en ealo g ical and biographical
m em ory o f specific persons an d house groups.
C H A P T E R F IV E
C o m in g B a c k to the L on gh ou se
T T T ' T h en the N ih u airi decid ed to leave D ayu n o d e fin itiv ely (see
\ jL / ch a p ter 4) and to create the new com m u n ity o f Q u efiueire
T \ O n o alo n g a particular bent o f the Sh iripu n o R iv er, they
chose to b u ild th eir tw o longhouses w h ere the mother o f the old est broth
e rs w ife had liv e d h er youth. H er nam e w as bestowed onto m e d u rin g an
im provised n a m in g cerem ony, as a sign o f m y form al affiliation to one o f
the two h ouse g ro u p s form in g the n ew settlem ent.
A lth ou gh n o t located on hilltops a w a y from rivers, the tw o collective
dwellings ( n an ica bo onco) were built traditionally, as large A -fr a m e struc
tures about 15 m eters lon g, 8 meters w id e , and twice the height o f an adult,
w ith a thatch p a lm r o o f reaching to the ground, and two d o o rs. I spent
m y first m o rn in g s in Q uehueire O n o collecting from the forest, w ith the
other w o m en o f m y h ou se group ( nanicabo , pi. nanicaboiri) , v in e ropes and
the long and flat m o ( Geonoma tam andua) palm leaves. M e a n w h ile, men
were fellin g trees (am o n g others, bagahue \Abutagrandifolia\, h u inem ecahue
\Brunfelsia gran dijlora var. schultesii ], o r m ancahue \Cecropia sp. Treciil])
and palm s ( om a q u eh u e [ Phytelephas macrocarpa\ or tepahue [Iriartea del-
toidea\) to m a k e h ou se poles. W om en tradition ally contribute v in e ropes to
attach the h o u se poles that men erect, as w ell as mb leaves to m ak e the
water-tight in n e r r o o f that lines the external palm ro o f w oven b y m en.
Back from th e g ath erin g expeditions, w e w ould w ork together at leveling
the grou nd u n d e rn ea th the great roof, d iggin g ou t all root rem ain s and
pulling ou t sto n es and debris. Each u n earthed bits o f clay p o t o r broken
stone axe w as d isco vered with great pleasure and excitem ent, an d precious
ly kept b y the w o m e n . T h e y were the m aterial signs that m ono m em eiri (lit
erally ‘our g ra n d fa th e rs’) had once lived here.
It is in th e tig h t com m u n ity fo rm ed b y these two lo n gh o u ses ( nani -
caboiri) th at I exp erien ced the livin g in tim a c y that constitutes the core o f
H uaorani so c ia lity an d that I came to understand the ways in w h ic h nani
cabo ‘to getherness’ is expressed and co n tin u o u sly reasserted th ro u g h sharing
practices. T h is ch a p ter explores the fu n c tio n o f longhouses as places where
people co n verge a n d resources accu m ulate to be shared and co n su m ed . Fur
therm ore, it discu sses the sociological im portance o f attachm en t and be
Corning Back to the Longhouse
B (or A ). N o one from either clu ster A or B ever returned to D ayuno, even
for a visit.
Soon the longhouses housed n ot o n ly people but also a gro w in g popula
tion o f pets, alm ost as m any as there were children. T h e s e queninga ‘pets’
(literally ‘ it receives food fro m h um ans’), m ainly m o n k ey s2 and parrots,
were the su rvivin g offspring o f h u n ted animals, given b y hunters to their
children, w h o were responsible fo r feeding the orphans, at tim es assisted by
breast-feeding mothers w hen the captured baby an im als w ere too weak or
you ng to ingest mashed fruit.
N o m atter how transitory the longhouses o f the N am e iri and the
C u h u eiri on the Shiripuno w ere as physical structures, th eir nanicaboiri ex
isted lo n g before I first m et th em , and, a decade later, th ey are still the same,
strengthened and enlarged b y the marriages o f the ch ild ren w h o have now
becom e adults and w ho are h avin g children o f their o w n . In the sedenta-
rized village they had left, N a m e and C uhue had been liv in g in nuclear fam
ily houses, com posite structures m ade o f planks and co rrugated iron. N o t
all the N a m e iri lived under o n e r o o f at the time, an d the C uhueiri were
spread in fo u r different houses, b u t they nevertheless fo rm ed two distinct
n eighborh ood clusters. A n d less than two years after th eir arrival in Q ue-
hueire O n o , as the settlem ent grew and as more fam ilies join ed the new
com m unity, the tw o longhouses fragm ented once m o re in to sm aller units;
the tw o enlarged kindreds had reform ed, as related n u clear families began
livin g in separate, yet clustered, houses.
T h e longhou se is the co m m o n dw elling place o f the nanicabo, literally
‘grou p’ o r ‘bunch’ , a term also used to refer to groups o f m onkeys and par
rots, sch ools o ffish , or sw arm s o f bees.3 Longhouses d o n o t last and are often
rebuilt on new sites, but house grou ps remain fairly stable. T h e house group
is co m posed o f an older cou ple an d the couple’s follow ers. T h e older couple
“o w n s,” o r “ leads,” the n anicabo, b y w h ich is meant th at th ey have initiated
the m ove, the construction, o r the form ation o f the residential unit. T h e
nanicabo derives its identity fro m the old w ife’s m other, w h ose house, in a
sense, it rebuilds, and from h er husband, whose n am e, used in the plural
form , often serves as a referential term (but see note I to this chapter).
L on gh ou ses, as physical stru ctu res or as enduring n anicaboiri, em body
the u n ity o f house groups, serv in g as fixed points in the flu id ity o f nom adic
life, places w here one belongs an d to which one returns. T h e y develop as
clearings in the rain forest, a ro u n d hearth places w h ere fo o d and materials
are processed and transform ed, used or consumed. T h e y are residence units
that h usbands jo in , where ch ild ren are born and raised, to w hich pets are
Corning Back to the Longhouse pp
T h e Sharing Econom y
To be p art o f a longhouse m eans n ot to be from som ew here else, and co
residence creates a form o f togetherness that is expressed an d continuously
reasserted through sharing practices. A s argued b y a n u m b er o f authors,4
sharing a co m m o n residence is a param oun t principle in o rd erin g relation
ships in m a n y A m azonian societies. It is this m o rality o f social proxim ity
that I ex a m in e thoroughly in this section.
P erso n a l A utonom y
A b ew ild erin g aspect o f H u a o ra n i social life and, arguably, o f life in most
A m azo n ian societies (Rivière 19 84 ; O verin g 1993) is the u n iq u e com bina-
ioo Corning Back to the Longhouse
ers w o u ld sim ply ask m e to stop, sit down, and co o l o ff. In a sim ilar v e in , re
lu cta n t children are n ever forced to work. T o help th eir parents or an yo n e
else, th ey first have to b e able to do so, and then th ey m ust volunteer their
help. H a rd w ork and to il, w h ic h are considered to lead to dangerous failu re,
are so cia lly disapproved o f, and tasks must be perfo rm ed w illingly an d e f
fortlessly. T h e b e lie f th at h arm on iou s social life sh o u ld be based on the full
respect o f personal exp ression and free choice to act corresponds to the fear
th at actions perfo rm ed u n d e r constraint result in social harm .9
Furth erm ore, the in d iv id u a tio n resulting from ch ild socialization enables
p erson s not so m u ch to b e independent and self-relian t but, m ore im p o r
tan t, to be so in o rd er to interact in a prolonged an d intense w ay w ith c o
residen ts. W h en ch ild ren are “old enough to go on their own” (piqu'ena bate
opategocam ba), that is, w h e n they can walk, talk, an d eat meat, they are en
co u ra g e d to participate in subsistence activities a n d to carry back, in th eir
o w n little p alm -leaf b askets (oto), enough fo o d to share w ith their g ra n d
m o th ers, m others, o ld e r sisters, and other m em b ers o f their nanicabo (R iva l
19 9 6 a ). A s already stated , forest food is generally abu n dan t, easily o b tain ed ,
an d sim p le to prepare. M oreover, the rich natural environm ent is tapped
u sin g ind ividu alized m o d es o f procurem ent. N o t o n ly are food -gatherin g
a ctivities hardly d iffere n tia ted , as noted in ch ap ter 4, but people also tend
to h u n t, fish, and gath er alo n e or in small grou p s, as none o f these activities
requires cooperation. H u n tin g , in fact, is p e rfo rm ed m ore efficiently alone.
It can thus be said th at personal autonom y an d the sharing o f n atu rally
a b u n d a n t food are tw o sides o f the same coin. Fin ally, given that personal
a u to n o m y necessarily im p lies that individuals p ro d u ce or control en o u gh
fo o d stu ff, not sim p ly fo r th eir ow n consum ption b u t also to share w ith o th
ers, it is u nderstandable th at the extreme self-relian ce o f angry w arriors w h o
take to the w oods, live a lo n e w ith the trees, and su rvive on their o w n urin e
(see ch apter 3) is co n sid ere d pathological, fu n d am en tally antisocial, an d d e
stru ctive. T h e ir in d ep en d en ce, born out o f grief, anger, fear, and anxiety, is
a b so lu tely antithetical to the personal au to n o m y and sharing sociality p ro
m o te d w ith in the n a n ica b o . K illin g becomes th eir identity, and to give and
receive death their d estiny.
D e m a n d in g a n d S h a r in g F ood
H u a o ra n i social life co u ld be sum m arized in on e short phrase: p ro cu re
alo n e and consum e together. T h e follow ing excerp t from m y field d ia ry il
lustrates the practices th at constitute nanicabo fo o d sharing:
Coming Back to the Longhouse 103
The first impression one gets after a few hours inside any longhouse is that o f a
constant mutual giving away o f food.
Since her husband died o f pneumonia several years ago, Mima has lived with
her married daughter, her husband, and their two children, and with her un
married adolescent daughter and son. Mima, her unmarried daughter, and her
son all cook on Mima’s hearth and prepare food for one another. The married
daughter has her own hearth on the other side o f the house, and she eats with her
husband and children. Food is continuously offered from one hearth group to
the other, but neither M im a nor her daughters would ever think o f saving time
and energy by taking turns to cook for the whole family on the same hearth.
When at home, each woman cooks all day long (sometimes the men cook) and
gives samples o f what she is cooking to whomever is around.
C o n ju ga l P airing
T o a W esterner’s eye, H u ao ran i m arried life ap p ears intense and h igh ly
dem an ding. Husbands a n d w ives spend m ost o f th eir tim e w o rk in g togeth
er and are alm ost inseparable, especially at the b e g in n in g o f their m arried
life. C o u p les spend far m o re tim e together than th ey d o w ith their ow n chil
dren. A n d whereas ch ildren spend weeks w ith p e o p le o th er than their b io
logical fathers and m others, n ew ly m arried m en a n d w o m e n cannot spend
m ore than a few days aw ay from each other w ith o u t th is b ein g a source o f
co n flict and tension. T h is is p artly explained b y th e fac t that w hen a m an
and a w om an get m arried, all the husband’s b roth ers, as w ell as all the w ife’s
sisters, becom e a “spouse” (nanoongue) . T h e term nanoongue, w hich is gen
der neutral and sociocentric, defines classes o f p e o p le w h o are in a potential
spousal relationship to o n e another. T h e ir affinal p o te n tia lity is realized as
the extension o f the rights an d obligations con tracted u p o n m arriage to the
entire set o f siblings. N an oongue can sleep w ith each other, even i f they are
not liv in g together as h u sb an d and w ife. It is th erefore n o t surprising that
spouses m ust spend m u ch tim e together for the m arital relationship to ac
quire its norm ally rem arkable degree o f strength an d stability.
In digen ou s discourses stress the reproductive fu n c tio n o f m arried life
w hen accounting for its reciprocal nature. T h e m arital relationship de-
ioti Corning Back to the Longhouse
sion o f m ens in vo lvem en t in the act o f b ea rin g ch ildren and p aren tin g (R ival
i9 9 8 e ).
To be m arried to o n ly one w om an o r to h er sisters as well m akes n o d if
ference from the m an ’s view p o in t, except th at he m u st w ork harder a n d p ro
duce more. W h en a m an marries several sisters, o n ly the first u n io n is cele
brated w ith a m arriage cerem ony. T h e d iv id in g up o f w ifely tasks am o n g
sisters also con tribu tes to increasing p ro d u c tio n output. T h e great ad van
tage o f sororal p o ly g y n y is that m ore sed en ta ry tasks (such as gard en in g,
carin g for y o u r b ab ies, and m an u factu rin g artifacts) m ay be co m b in e d
m ore easily w ith fo ra g in g activities. T h e m o st significan t division o f lab o r is
no longer that betw een husband and w ife b u t th at between the “sed en tary”
and the “foraging” w ife . It should be em phasized here that sororal p o ly g y n y
is m ost often in itiated b y you nger sisters, w h o see it as their rig h t to share
their older sister’s h u sb an d (he is, after all, lega lly their husband). T h e m ost
com m on reason cited fo r sororal p o ly g y n y is husband scarcity. S u c h scarci
ty is induced b y the h igh valu e w om en attach to livin g with th eir m others
and sisters. T h e y v a lu e their native h ou se g ro u p above all an d w o u ld do
everything in th eir p o w er to remain there. In ad d itio n , it seems th a t the first
sons-in-law and th eir w ives’ parents b oth feel, albeit for d ifferen t reasons,
that the inclusion o f m ore in-m arryin g m en w o u ld be p o litically deleteri
ous. I f husbands rein force their political p o sitio n b y m arrying several times
in the same hou se, th eir polygyn y is alw ays perceived as an act o f generosi
ty, for they w ill h ave to w o rk harder.
A lth ough the co n ju gal pair form s a p ro d u c tive unit, each sp o u se rem ains
an independent fo o d sharer w ithin the n an icab o . C o n ju g ality d o e s n ot af
fect the au to n o m y o f ind ividu al prod ucers; husbands and w ives h ave equal
rights to the p ro d u cts o f their co m m on , shared labor. For in stan ce, w h en a
m arried couple gath er and hunt together, th ey return to th e lo n gh o u se
equally loaded w ith hunted game and o th e r forest products. E a c h controls
w h at each carries an d is entitled to give so m e aw ay to any n a n ica b o m em
ber. T h is becom es p articu larly clear w h en guests are visiting. G iv e n the ux-
orilocal nature o f postm arital residence, m o st visits are for in -m a rry in g m en
or by m arried m en returning to their n ative nanicabo. It is m a rrie d men
w h o generally cater to their visitors. T h e y d o n ot expect their w iv e s to act as
a hostess to in d ivid u a ls w h o m they co n sid er huarani, that is, unrelated
folks, nonresident affines and non -kin .
T o sum up, co n ju g a lity m ay affect p ro d u c tio n patterns b u t n o t nanicabo
sharing or v isitin g patterns. In the shared life o f the nanicabo com m u n ity,
transactions b etw een husbands and w ives, u n lik e those practiced w ith other
Corning Back to the Longhouse lop
one a n oth er’s com pany. Sen su ality is practiced not as the realization o f pri
vate fantasies b u t as the b odily expression o f sharing. W h en H uaorani peo
ple talk a b o u t sensuality, they m ean “w e live well” (huapon i quehuemonipa)-,
to them , sen su al pleasure, or p ro m iscu o u s well-being, is sim p ly one o f the
w ays in w h ic h the longhouse sh a rin g econ om y m aterializes.
T h e n eed fo r com fort and ph ysical contact is never con stru ed as sexual,
nor is the d esire fo r affection taken to be a desire for sex. B o d ies are social
ized to exp erien ce diffuse, u n fo cu sed pleasures, and low -level sexual energy
in this cu ltu ra l context does not ap p ear to be caused b y the fear o f losing life
force o r o th e r vital substances th rou gh intercourse. In this society au
ton o m ou s in d ivid u als do not b ecom e subjects through loss or through nar
cissistic satisfactio n o f erotic desires, an d both sex and sen su ality are direct
ed to the m a k in g o f other p eop le, not oneself. Sexu ality is never used in
H u ao ran i so cie ty to create pow er differentials or to transgress social norms;
it is em b e d d ed in the care o f rep ro d u ctio n . Sensuality, the physical pleasure
o f h arm o n io u s living, is neither caused nor expressed in sexual desire, nor is
it restrictive: A ll longhouse residents, w hatever their age, gender, or kin af
filiation , b eh ave sensually tow ard one another. E ntirely en gulfed in the do
m estic a n d its organicity, sen su ality is the art de vivre o f individuals w ho
have ch o sen to share a co m m o n residence. A gain, it is prom iscuous w ell
being, o n e o f the ways in w h ich the longhouse sharing- eco n o m y material
izes. (R iv a l, Slater, and M iller 19 9 8 ).15
T h e p rin c ip le by w hich p eop le becom e related th ro u gh com m on living
applies to d iet restrictions as w e ll. Relatedness m ay result from either con
su m in g to geth er or avoiding fo o d together. In other w o rd s, relatedness re
sults fro m th e fact o f collectively con su m in g or av o id in g fo od , and collec
tive fa stin g also expresses sh arin g. It is not so m uch the k in d o f food eaten
that m atters, b u t the relation o f con sum ption it creates. W h en a m em ber o f
the lo n g h o u se residential gro u p is sick, all residents m u st respect the sam e
food p ro h ib itio n s to help th at person recover. T h e p atien t recovers his or
her g o o d health thanks to this collective, curative effo rt. B y contrast, cog-
natic relatives living elsewhere h ave no such restrictions.16
E ach n an icab o is know n to others under a co llective identity derived
from its co rp o reity and co m m u n al existence. M em bers o f a residential unit
are d escrib ed as having a certain sm ell, a certain w a y o f dividin g up the
w o rk a m o n g themselves, a fu n n y w a y o f cutting th eir hair. T h e y are said to
be taller— o r shorter— than th e n o rm ; their skin is d ark er or lighter than
the average; and so forth. O f cou rse, such m erging o f in d ivid u al selves w ith
in a sin g u la r collectivity is stereotypical. It is not in sign ifican t that residen
Corning Back to the Longhouse in
tial solidarity, w hich social actors see as based on the m oral principles and
social practices attached to the experien ce o f togetherness, be represented in
organic te rm s.17
Finally, i f living together turn s people into the sam e substance, the
process is not irreversible. Som e p eop le m ay spend m ore tim e aw ay visiting
distant relatives and may b ecom e estranged from their o w n nanicaboiri.
P hysically distant kin, who have n o t interacted w ith o n e an oth er for a long
time, are socially distant, to the p o in t o f being “o th ers.” B y disengaging
from the intense econom y o f sh arin g , and by residing less constantly w ith
in the n anicabo, they lose som e o f the com m on substance, and differences
surface. T h e sharing o f a co m m o n substance is not perm an en t and can be
discon tinued. It lasts only as lo n g as it is sustained through continuous shar
ing practices. However, reversing the process is an extrem ely serious matter.
Individuals w h o leave one gro u p fo r another cease to be k in ; they may be
com e “en e m y other” (h uaran i). T h e y undergo a change o f iden tity marked
by the ad op tion o f a different person al nam e and the acqu isition o f a new
spouse. H a v in g reverted to the separate condition o f otherness, they have
lost all poten tial for incorporation an d are, in fact, m o re h u a ‘other’ than
potential in-com ers. It is not even possible to return to the longhouse one
has left to visit form er co-residents, fo r they w ould see in the returning vis
itor a “m alevolent spirit” (huene), w h ose sole purpose is to kill and devour
his fo rm er kin associates. So, fo r the H uaorani, it is n o t affines who m ay
turn in to dangerous “cannibal o th e rs,” but kin w h o live w ith “others.”
W h at I have tried to show in this section is that the lon ghou se, as a unit
o f sharin g, represents a m oral (in the M aussian sense o f the term) person
created th rough biosocial processes, that is, a series o f d om estic acrions in
volvin g the body. Sharing is the o rgan ic binding o f auto n o m o u s selves, and
substance sharing a process b y w h ic h em bodim ent creates collective identi
ty. W hereas those w ho live togeth er becom e alike, those w h o live apart, no
m atter h o w closely related they are in genealogical term s, turn into “others.”
A lth o u gh lived intensively, the experience o f Substance sharing never be
com es essentialized. Sharing is co m p rised o f acts o f giv in g in the present, by
which the fact that co-residents b ecom e one another has n o past or future.
There can be no m em ory o f sh arin g , fo r sharing exists in the lived m om ent,
in the im m ed iacy o f intimacy. T h is is entirely consequential w ith the thesis
that b odylin ess, “ in the sense o f participation in the life o f the body, is not
restricted to the individual body, b u t m ay involve the in d ividu al in direct
participation in the living b odies o f others, specifically others involved in
prod ucin g her or his own b o d ily existence, or w ith w h o m she or he is in
112 Coming Back to the Longhouse
f ig u r e 5.3 Huaorani n o m e n c la t u r e
[ m e m e i r i ^1
GENEALOGICAL LEVELS CONSANGUINEOUS KIN A F F I N A L KIN
G+2 1 2 1 2
G+l 33’ 4 5 è .
(8) 10
ftm
7 9
V
11
GO
<Ego 8’ (9 ’) • — —
G-l 12 14 13 15
G-2 16 16
who were en d lessly debating w ho, in the co-resident bilateral k in d red , was
“other,” “cross-co u sin ,” or “sibling.” T h e ir disagreem ent often related to the
fact that cross-cousin marriages im p ly th at consanguin ity is co n tin u o u sly
being transform ed into affinity, and a ffin ity into consanguinity. T h e H u ao-
rani kinship system is, in this respect, entirely consistent w ith A m azo n ian
kinship system s, particularly with th eir “ tw o-lin e” (D ravid ian) relationship
term inologies representing the alliance betw een two so cially d efin ed cate-
114 Corning Back to the Longhouse
FF/MF M Ë M Ë
FM /M M NËNË
F B M A A PO M B BE
FZ M EN TERA M Z BA RA
Be M IM O MBS/FZS M E N Q U I
B y B IH U I M BD /FZD M E N G U I
Ze MENGA
Zy BIH U IN Q U I
for m ale ego: S , B S, B D H U Í for m ale ego: Z S: M IN A T O , BIYO N GE
(huane) for fem ale ego : D , ZS, ZD : BIY O N G A , M IN A T O
Z D H U Í (huenga) for fem ale ego: B S M IN A T O , BIY O N G E
BD: BIY O N G A , M IN A T O
(qu era, children o f m on ato , biyonè
or b iyo nga)
NANOMOCO
Corning Back to the Longhouse us
gories, “self” and “o th er,” to use A rhem ’s (19 9 6 :18 7) elegant fo rm u lation ,
and w ith their kin term s, w h ich , neither en tirely sociocentric nor co m
pletely egocentric, are esp ecially vague, allusive, an d open to interpretation
(see figures 5.4 and 5.5).
In Q uehueire O n o, m o st people were defined as gu irin a n i, that is, as rel
atives to w hom kin term s applied . However, som e m em bers o f cluster A (see
figure 5.1) continued to call m em bers from clu ster B , w ith w hom they co n
sidered to have no kin ties, huaca (singular) o r hua.ra.ni (plural).20 So m e
older villagers, for instance, insisted that, alth o u gh they lived in the sam e
village, Ñ am e and M en g ato h u e were not g u ir i b u t huaca ‘different’ , ‘other’ ,
‘w ith no known co m m o n forebear.’ T h ose w h o h ad direct genealogical ties
to Ñ a m e and considered them selves “true” in h ab itan ts o f Q uehueire O n o
tended to refer to M en g a to h u e as hua (im p lyin g that he was a kind o f m i
grant or refugee, that is, n o t a native but Z h iro ’s an d Ñ a m e s protégé); those
w h o were genealogically related to M en g ato h u e tended to refer to the
Ñ am eiri as guiri-, Ñ a m e referred to M en g ato h u e as mempo ‘father’ , and
M engatoh ue referred to Ñ a m e as toniya ‘ b roth er.’
I foun d the same in d ivid u a listic and situation al use o f kin terms th rough
ou t H uaorani land, w ith p o ssib ly one general rule: w h ile “natives” tended to
call “refugees” hua, the latter tended to call the fo rm er gu iri. O n the w h ole,
those w ho are seen as “ in -co m ers” (refugees, o rp h an s, or affines o f affines
w ith no strong con n ection to the core group o f k in that makes up a partic
ular settlement) use k in term s to refer to “a b o rig in es.” O n ce a kin term is
used fo r a particular p erson , and no rnatter h o w far-fetched, potential, or
actual the purported gen ealo gical tie is, ego an d his or her spouse apply the
D ravidianate term in ology system atically to all the relatives living in the clus
tered longhouses. H ow ever, given that calling so m eo n e ^ K in or hua is largely
a m atter o f personal ch o ice , there is rarely con sisten cy between the w a y in
w h ich ego and ego’s cogn ates chart kin ties, especially in the large settle
m ents where unrelated b an d s have interm ixed u n d er m issionary influence.
W h en asked by the an th ropologist to list th eir kin exhaustively, in fo rm
ants first mention p eop le w h o live in their h ouse, then those who live in the
sam e neighborhood cluster, then those w h o live in the same village, and
o n ly then, if at all, those w h o live elsewhere in H u ao ran i land. N u m ero u s
exam ples m ay be given to sh o w that genealogical reckon in g beyond the res
idential unit is m in im al an d that people livin g together or close to one an
other ju stify their p ro x im ity b y invoking con san gu in eal, rather than affinal,
ties. Cognates and co n san gu in es are defined in term s o f spatial p ro xim ity
rather than genealogical proxim ity. Som eone as close as a true sister m ay be
Ii6 Com ing Back to the Longhouse
gesting that w h erea s m en create pairs o f affines, wom en are m atern al and
m ultiple. W h ere as n o collective kin term derives from the “ m ale affin al”
pronouns, tw o (m onocaya and nanacaya) derive from the “m o th er-so u rce”
pronouns, an d fo u r (nanicabo, huaom oni, g u irin a n i and hui'nenanit) from
“ m other affin al” p ro n o u n s. Fem ale affinity, m ultiplicity, and ab u n d an ce are
interrelated, a n d m o th e r as genetrix is th ou gh t o f as a source, o r a root
stock, like the w o m b (huinegancoo ‘the place where children m u ltip ly ’). I f
there is no H u a o ra n i term for the n uclear fam ily or even, as in a n u m b er o f
A m azonian lan g u a g e s, fo r the hearth gro u p , there is a special term , te hue,
to talk about a m o th e r and her children. M oreover, while the first chonta
palm to gro w fro m a planted seed is called “m other” and the sh o o ts “chil
d ren ,” the c lu m p th ey form is know n as te hue. A ll this tends to suggest that
w om en are asso ciated w ith “source,” “ generation” and “m u ltip licity,” no
tions that u n d o u b te d ly color H uaorani ideas about uxorilocal residence and
m ust relate to th e fact that nanicaboiri b u ild their longhouses at the “ m oth
er’s m other-life p lac e” (ino dube du b 'e n an ii fiene huecantapd). A n d it is per
haps because o f th eir “ m other-source” q u a lity that maternal foreb ears tend,
in m y experien ce, to be rem em bered m ore often than paternal forebears.
TABLE 5.I
C o m p a r is o n o f M a r r ia g e A llia n c e s in F iv e C o m m u n itie s
* M o s t b i la t e r a l c r o s s - c o u s i n m a r r i a g e s a r e b e t w e e n “ r e a l” b r o t h e r s a n d s i s t e r s ( i .e ., o f t h e s a m e m o t h e r a n d f a
th e r).
* T h e m a j o r i t y o f b i la t e r a l c r o s s - c o u s i n m a r r i a g e s a r e b e t w e e n B S a n d Z D .
** M o s t o f th e se m a r r ia g e s a r e w it h p a r t n e r s fr o m th e C o n o n a c o ( i n f o r m a n t s c la im th a t C o n o n a c o p e o p l e a r e u n
r e la t e d t o Y a s u n i p e o p l e ) .
* ** T h r e e o f th e se s ix a llia n c e s c o n c e r n t h e t w o d a u g h te r s a n d s o n o f t h e “ t rib a l c h i e f ” D a y u m a . S h e a r r a n g e d th e
t h r e e o t h e r a ll ia n c e s b e t w e e n s o m e o f h e r H u a o r a n i a n d Q u i c h u a “ g o d c h i l d r e n . " ( D a y u m a f le d f r o m h e r p e o p l e
w h e n s h e w a s f o u r t e e n a n d s p e n t m a n y y e a r s in a Q u i c h u a c o m m u n i t y . )
w h o start their m arried careers alm ost as stran gers, epitom ize each o f these
two processes.
D eath in O ld A ge
W hen an old person dies, she is said to d ie “ fo r no good reason” (o n o n qu i
[hueigam ba\hueni).24 Such death is co n trasted w ith h om icid e, w h en a killer
spears his victim to death or causes h er o r h is death through disease, acci
dent, snake bite, an d so forth. O on onqui h u en i, in fact, im plies th at the
death was suicidal25 in that it was w ille d b y th e v ic tim herself, w h o w as fin d
in g herself sim u ltan eously forsaken b y h e r liv in g relatives and “called ” by
long-dead kin. In the usual scenario, an o ld w o m a n 26 is left b eh in d in a de
caying longhouse, w h ile the rest o f her h o u se g ro u p m oves to a n ew lo catio n
w here a new house is built. She is a b a n d o n e d b y m u tu al con sent; she can
h ardly w alk or see an d chooses to stay in h er h am m o ck , w here she dies o f
starvation. Several m onths later, the h o u se gro u p treks back to the— by
now — entirely decayed house structure, w h ic h , reclaim ed b y the forest, is
invaded by all kinds o f weeds and sap lings. T h e skeleton is w rap p e d in the
ham m ock where it w as found, in a fetal p o sitio n . It is then b u ried facin g
east in a shallow grave at the center o f w h a t used to be the lo n gh o u se, and
the house and h um an rem ains are set o n fire. T h e intimate, co n n e ctio n be
tween com m unal livin g and solitary d eath in old age is then m an ifested in
the wealth o f useful plants found in fo rm e rly in h ab ited parts o f the forest—
especially hilltops, as discussed in the p re v io u s ch apter.27
In Q uehueire O n o , the old Aca, w h o d ie d sh o rtly after one o f m y visits,
w as not left behind, given the new circu m stan ces and influences p re vailin g
in contem porary H u aoran i villages. O v e r th e years I had seen h er trek less
and less and becom e increasingly b o u n d to the house, lo o kin g after her
youngest grandchildren and their pets. T h e o ld e r she grew, the m o re seden
tary she became, fo rm in g almost an o rg a n ic w h o le w ith the house. Sh e had
refused to feed h erself fo r about a m o n th b efo re her eventual death, alleg
in g, in response to the pleas o f her son, d au gh ter-in -law , and o th er co -resi
dents, that dead relatives she was n a m in g as i f they w ere still alive h ad al
ready given her p len ty to eat and d rin k . W h e n the old A ca w as b uried ,
facing east, in the v illa g e s cem etery o n a h illto p , her kin aban d o n ed the
house in which th ey had lived with h er a n d b u ilt a new one closer to the
airstrip. D u rin g a subsequent visit I asked h e r gran dchildren (aged fo u r to
nine) where she w as. A lth ou gh they k n ew p e rfe ctly w ell the location o f A c a s
grave, they u n an im ou sly pointed to the o ld ab an d o n ed house. A s this ex
122 Com ing Back to the Longhouse
ample illu strates, old d w ellin g sites are also burial sites, b o th physically and
conceptually.
In terestin g parallels m ay be d raw n between the burial o f a victim speared
by the e n e m y (as discussed in ch ap ter 3) and that o f a p erson dyin g o f old
age. F irst, in b o th cases the so cio lo gical significance o f k illin g is m ore on the
side o f the v ic tim than on the side o f the killer, or, put a n o th er way, dying is
more sig n ific an t than killing. F u rth erm o re, both deaths are seen to involve
in tentional h u m an agency ca u sin g the separation o f p a rticu la r individuals
from d o m estic groups. B u t w hereas the former is caused first by a furious
w arrior a rm ed w ith a spear an d then by com passionate k in w h o suffocate
the m o rib u n d victim , the latter is caused by the v ictim s o w n determ ination
to cease all eatin g and m o vem en t once she has been ab an d o n ed by those
w ith w h o m she shares a co m m o n substance. Stories, m y th s, and memories
tend to associate each o f these tw o form s o f death and b u rial w ith a partic
ular gender. W hereas m en are m ore com m only represented as dyin g w ar
riors b u ried alive w ith a ch ild b y their kin, old w om en are thought to end
their lives b y b ein g left alone to die in rotting houses. In b oth cases, how ev
er, death is associated w ith the co n tin u ed existence o f certain plants and an
imals, in p articu lar chonta p alm groves.
parental hearth, and that they spen d m uch time aw ay h u n tin g or visiting on
their o w n , introduces a certain ph ysical distance that turns them into part-
time co-residents. D isengaged fro m the nanicabo sh arin g econ om y by their
constant g o in g and com ing, th eir fo o d contribution is n o w targeted to their
m others an d sisters. It is at th is p o in t that brothers an d sisters pair them
selves fo r specific productive tasks (fo r exam ple, garden in g) and engage in
co m p lem en tary econom ic activities as i f bound b y co n ju ga l reciprocity.29
C o n ju g ality , the long-term association o f a w o m an w ith an in-com ing
man w ith in a house group, lasts as lo n g as the two m arriage partners live and
w ork together. M arried m en en d up belonging to the grou p where they
reside w ith their wives, and cease to be affines (R ival 1998c). In Huaorani
society, like in other A m azo n ian societies, uxorilocality does not result from
bride service. T h e in -m arrying h u sb an d does not w o rk fo r his in-laws; he has
no debt to repay. H e w orks fo r the new unit he and his w ife constitute, and,
p articip atin g in the nanicabo sh arin g econom y, he g rad u ally becom es part o f
his w ife ’s h ouse group.30 U xo rilo cality, as practiced b y the H uaorani, con
cerns the dom estication o f m ale others and their in corp o ration w ithin uxori-
m atrifocal kindreds. W h at u xo rilo cality does is to attach individuals to
groups. T h e political relation b ein g articulated here is n o t one o f dom ination
but o f balan ced reproduction. U xo rilo cality is so h igh ly prized that, it w ould
seem, m en have little choice b u t to accept their grad ual consanguinization
and progressive transform ation into mem bers o f th eir w ives’ m atrikin. A
m ature m a n , in his role as h u sb an d and father, eventu ally becom es the head
o f his w ife ’s native longhouse, an d he achieves full kin status by giving his
nam e to the nanicabo or even to the huaom oni grou p. A llie d w ith wom en
(their w ives and sisters), m en b ecom e respected leaders, an d their longhouses
increase. T h e y have m etaph orically taken root in affin al land.
A fte r m arriage, men’s v isitin g patterns, focused on the partnerships they
have fo rm e d w ith their sisters, con tin u e alm ost u n ch an ged. G iven the uxo-
rilocal n ature o f postm arital residence, men’s visiting rights are m ore exten
sive than those o f their sisters. B ecau se uxorilocality forces m en to separate
them selves, one b y one, fro m fem ale-associated collective groups (their na
tive n an icabo iri) in order to reattach themselves to o ther groups (their
wives’ n anicaboiri), men n o t o n ly separate themselves fro m their brothers
but also enter into open co m p etitio n with them. T ie s between brothers,
w ho are either com peting fo r the sam e bride or m arryin g into different nan
icaboiri, are weakened. In o th e r w ord s, uxorilocality, w h ich makes broth
ers-in -law close, causes the relations between brothers to be particularly
fraught w ith am bivalence.
124 Corning Back to the Longhouse
Another con sequen ce o f u xo rilo cality is that it makes sisters so close and
structurally equ ivalen t that they o ften m arry the same m an, or, à défaut, the
younger sister m arries a substitute o f h er sisters husband, his brother. A n
other aspect o f this asym m etry is th at ch ildren o f sisters are considered to be
“more the sam e” (anobain huaponi) th an children o f brothers. A lth ough
both are tech n ically classificatory sib lin g s, children o f b rothers are not as
similar as ch ildren o f sisters because “ th ey grow in separate houses and their
mothers are d iffere n t.” A n d , because the continuous practices lin ked to do
mesticity, shared residence, and freq u en t o r prolonged visitin g turn people
into the sam e shared substance, strin g e n t restrictions exist o n fem ale visit
ing and feeding so as to m aintain a clear-cu t boundary, b oth p h ysically and
socially, betw een consanguineal w o m e n , w h o are close and solidaristic, and
affinal w om en , w h o are absolutely d ifferen t.
Gender asym m etry, therefore, is lo cated neither in the h u sb an d -w ife re
lationship nor in age hierarchies a m o n g siblings but results fro m the post-
marital residence rule, which affects a ll sib lin g relationships. A n d were it
not for the lin ks m en m aintain w ith th eir sisters, m others, and m ale kin,
self-sufficient residential units fo rm ed around con san gu in eal wom en
would stand as unconnected forest islands.
A G ap in the C a n o p y
T h is chapter has h ig h lig h te d the w ay an th ropogen ic forests result fro m
the do m estic activities o f h ou se groups w hose relative perm anence gives its
m e m b ers a strong sense o f shared identity. T h e longhouse is the place par
excellen ce o f sociality an d dom estic reproduction, a place in w hich ev ery
d a y dom esticity is creative o f sociality. T h e lon gh o u se, the sym bol o f h ar
m o n io u s dom esticity, is the site where people w h o live together d evelo p ,
th ro u g h the cu m u lative experience o f livin g side b y side, day after day, a
sh ared physicality o f greater im port than th at resulting from genealogical
b o n d s.
A great deal has been w ritten on A m azonian m odes o f recruitm ent to g e
n ealogies, and, in p articu lar, on the com m on occurrence in the region o f
D ra v id ia n term in ology system s.34 T h e H u aorani m aterial I have presented
h ere further confirm s the existence o f a stro n g correlation betw een g eo
g ra p h ic and genealogical endogam y, bilateral cross-cousin m arriage, v e ry
sh o rt cycles o f re cip ro city (between brothers and sisters w ho becom e affin es
b y exchanging th eir ch ild re n in marriage), an d D ravidian ate term inologies.
H e n le y (1996) has a rgu ed that Am azonian D ravid ian ate kinship system s are
p rim arily found in the m argin al areas o f low p o p u latio n density. T h e H u a o -
Corning Back to the Longhouse 127
rani case supports his thesis, w ith the corrective add itio n that low p o p u la
tion density and sp ou se scarcity are neither n atu ral givens nor historical
phen om ena to be taken at face value. For one th in g, and as we saw in chap
ters 2 and 3, political ch oices, particularly the ch o ice o f fierce isolation and
the refusal to exchange, result in scarcity. M oreo ver, the determ ination o f
m a n y you ng sisters to m a rry their older sisters’ husban ds, resulting in so-
roral polygyny, is also best interpreted as a p o litica l choice, the choice o f
lim itin g the num ber o f m ale outsiders w ith in nanicaboiri. T h e H u ao ran i'
are conscious o f the d em o grap h ic consequences o f their preference fo r a
particularly drastic fo rm o f endogam y, and often rem ark that they could
have been “as n um erous as an ts,” like the N a p o R u n a s or the Shuars are.
It has also been sh o w n in this chapter that the social w orld o f the lo n g
house interacts d y n a m ic ally w ith trekking, w h ic h is conceptualized as a
tem porary and partial m ovem en t away fro m the com m un al dw elling. A
trek w ou ld have a v e ry d ifferen t m eaning i f w a lk in g in the forest was n ot or
ganized as a m om ent before returning to a base w h ere the food procured in
the forest is consu m ed, an d w here other raw m aterials are used and m an u
factured. T h e lon gh o u se, the place where ch ild re n , m en, refugees, and pets
are progressively in co rp o rated , is inscribed b oth in the natural and the soci
o logical landscape. T h e m ore tim e people sp en d together, the more they be
com e alike, but con su b stan tiality through ab so rp tio n is n ot irreversible nor
is consanguinity fixed o r genetically based. H o w ever, the estrangem ent o f
co-residents w ho leave is defin itive. I f forest cam p s are deserted on and off,
longhouses, w hich m a terially em body the co rp o real u n ity and collective
id en tity o f house gro u p s, are never left u n o ccu p ied . Longhouses are always
u n der the guardian ship o f old people w h o feed the pets, look after the
y o u n g children, an d keep the bad spirits at bay. Pets,35 w hich are rarely
taken on treks, co m p lete the process by w h ich longhouses are turned into
feed in g places that ca n n o t be abandoned or left em pty.
Finally, I have tried to sh o w the conn ections in H uaorani thought be
tw een dw elling in the forest, trekking, death in o ld age, and natural abu n
dance. O ld age so m ew h at contradicts the ideal o f n anicabo shared auton
o m y and adds anoth er d im en sion to the d ialectics betw een incorporation
and separation. It is h ard fo r old persons (p iq u ën a n i) to assert their self-
su fficien cy and co n tin u e to navigate between person al auton om y and shar
in g, individual p ro d u ctio n and collective co n su m p tio n . W ith old age, p o
tential dependencies b ecom e increasingly real. O ld people do not expect
their children and gran d ch ild ren to keep th em alive; they do not expect to
live past their age o f p ro d u c tiv e self-reliance. O ld age starts w hen a m arried
128 Corning Back to the Longhouse
couple no lon ger prod ucing ch ild ren starts to grow ap art. W h en a husband
and w ife cease to function as a co n ju gal pair, each co o k s fo o d separately on
a d ifferen t hearth and shares w ith the other as w ith a n y o th er co-resident.
Instead o f w eavin g the co n ju g a l h am m o ck jointly, each n o w weaves his o r
her o w n h am m ock. N o w con sid ered “parents” to all the adults in their
huaom oni grou p, and “gran d p aren ts” to all the ch ild re n , they tend to live
apart, on a h ill, alone or w ith a m arried son o r dau gh ter, often visited b y
their o th er children and gra n d ch ild ren , w h o b rin g th em fo od . T h e y gradu
ally h u n t, gather, fish and eat less, and have alm ost n ever enough food to
give away.
T ra d itio n ally old people w ith m arried gran dchild ren abou t to becom e
parents w ere considered too o ld to go on livin g an d avo id ed decadence b y
co n sen tin g to being ab an d o n ed and left to die.36 B u t as lo n g as one’s spouse
is still alive and shares in the sam e house, one is “ n ot really o ld ” (p iq u ep iqu e
inga). V e ry o ld age is associated w ith w id ow h oo d — m o re precisely, w ith the
co n d itio n o f solitary, w id o w e d , o r abandoned agin g w o m e n . Ideally, and as
already m en tion ed , m en d ie in w arfare, whereas w o m e n are im agined to
su rvive m en and die alon e in a decrepit and deserted h ouse.37 H uaorani
burial practices thus ind icate th at i f the dom estically created, naturally ex
isting, co n tin u o u s and tim eless abu ndance discussed in chapter 4 is at all re
lated to the power and en e rgy supposedly released b y death (Bloch and
P arry 19 8 2), this is the case o n ly in a m ediated an d delayed form , as aban
d o n ed co m m u n al d w ellin g sites, before turning in to m an aged forest groves,
becom e places where old p erson s d ie.38
C H A P T E R S IX
he previous ch ap ter on the lon ghou se presen ted a fam iliar p ictu re
tentm ent, w hich is con sid ered essential for the roots to becom e sw eet w it h
out rotting or being in fested w ith insects o r fu n g i. A n inform ant to ld m e:
“ T h e ahuene live h a lf dead in ther h am m ocks, as sick people do. T h e y
mustn’t eat, drin k o r sp eak for som e days. I f th ey do, the m anioc fills w ith
blood, rots away, an d there is no eem e.” W h en I tried to prepare “o ld -tim e
sweet m anioc” d u rin g the sum m er o f 19 9 7 w ith the help o f m y a d o p tive
m other and her h u sb an d , I realized how h azardous the operation is, as the
roots easily becom e in fected w ith num erous plagues, m old, and larvae.
G reat care and talent are indeed required to en su re that m onths o f e ffo rt d e
voted to grow ing an d h arvestin g a large m a n io c plantation, as well as b u ild
ing a new longhouse, result in feast food an d n ot rotten supplies.5
T h e m anioc is read y w h en it smells “stron g an d sw eet,” at w hich tim e the
w om en com e to h elp peel the roots and the m en go on a big hunt. T h e re
sulting mash is stored in large clay pots m ade especially for the o ccasio n .
T h e w ay people talk a b o u t the transform ed m a n io c (“ It is so juicy, so fleshy,
so sweet and p e rfu m e d ,” etc.) reveals that it is no longer seen as a ro o t, but
as a fruit. People even say that when extracted from the pits, the m a n io c is
“as sweet as a fru it,” w h ic h I interpret as b ein g consistent with the fact that
the couple w ho lo o ked after the m anioc is called “o f the tree” (ahuene), as i f
they had been u n d e rg o in g the organic processes b y w hich trees c o m e to
bear fruit. In this sense, i f cerem onial d rin k s are always fruit d rin k s, sweet
m anioc drink is n o excep tio n . W hen the festival is about to b egin , there is
no trace o f hearths in the feasthouse; h am m o ck s have been ro lled u p or
taken away, and the dan ce floo r is kept free o f the usual dom estic clu tter. In
one corner only are there large clay pots, so m e filled w ith m anioc m ash and
som e w ith water, an d a n u m b er o f gourd d rin k in g bowls (ohueta). T h e cou
p le (and not the tw o separate individuals fo rm in g it) hosting a m a n io c
drin kin g festival in the feasthouse em pty o f dom estic life sym bolizes, as an
indivisible unit, a tree u n dergoin g the slo w biological process le a d in g to
m aturation and fru itin g , w hich is no d ifferen t from the process b y w h ic h a
couple perform s the cou vade; bearing a b ab y (gestation) and b ea rin g fruit
(fruiting) are con ceptu alized as identical processes (Rival 1998c).
In sum , w hereas cerem onies in peach p alm groves are gen erally sm all-
scale affairs u n fo ld in g over several weeks an d in volvin g close relatives, eem e
festivals do not last m o re than a day and a n ig h t (often just one n igh t). T h e y
are not organized w h en e ver there is ab u n d an ce o f fruit but require careful
planning, calcu latio n , and great d ip lo m acy; to initiate new allian ces be
tween groups and start u p new cycles o f sp ou se exchange is one o f th eir stat
ed purposes. People p lan t m anioc w ith the explicit intention o f u sin g it for
Eeme Festivals 133
B etw een each session o f ch a n tin g and dancing, the singers are offered
bowls o f d r in k b y the ahuene h u sb an d , w h o serves w hile his w ife (or wives)
mixes the m a n io c paste w ith w ater. A s the festival u n fo ld s, the m ens and
w o m en s g ro u p s m ove on to p e rfo rm their sim ultaneous sin g-d an ce, danc
ing back an d fo rth from the tw o ends o f the room toward th e center where
they m eet b efo re m oving back again . Because they sing at the sam e time but
in a d ifferen t style, the two grou ps are, in a sense, “ talking past each other”
(see ch ap ter 5).
In one festival fo r which I have extensive field notes, m o re than one hun
dred son gs w ere chanted betw een 6 :0 0 p . m . and 7 :0 0 a . m . the follow ing
m orn in g. T h e chants covered seven topics. T h e wom en o f this house group,
w h o had ju s t recently relocated ou tsid e their territory, sp en t the first quar
ter o f the ce rem o n y chanting a b o u t fin d in g the skulls o f th eir forebears and
about liv in g together, living apart, an d then reuniting. T h e n th ey sang about
m arriage an d conjugality. W h e n exam inin g all the ap p ro xim ately one
hun dred so n gs as a corpus, it b ecom es clear that one th em e predom inates
for b oth ge n d e r groups, the m e etin g o f m any different types o f birds on a
fru itin g tree. T h e chants in this to p ic invariably ended w ith the line, “ W e
h um an s are like these birds, w e e n jo y celebrating together an d then w e leave,
each o n e o f us go in g about his ow n business. In this w a y lived ou r grandfa
thers, an d so d o w e” (tomento behuenque bamertenga ab i, m onito memeiri
ano bain ).
In this representation o f them selves as a feasting g ro u p , feast goers stress
their in d iv id u a l freedom and in dependence. T h e feasting gro u p is no more
than a m o m e n ta ry collectivity m ade up o f free and in d ep en d en t in d ividu
als w h o sh are n o m ore than the transient pleasure o f co n su m in g abundant
food together. T h e only th in g th at binds them together is the pleasure o f
c o n su m in g abu n dan t and d e licio u s food. N o obligation s o r rights m ake
them d e p en d en t on one another. People chant for hours ab o u t the vivid col
ors o f feath ers and fruit, the so u n d s em itted by, and the m ovem ents of, the
flyin g creatures, as well as the sw eetness and abundance o f the juices that
have b ro u g h t them all to con gregate. T h e message o f these endless sensuous
descrip tio n s is that no o b lig ation s o r rights bind feast goers together. T h e y
are in d ep e n d en t, indeed unrelated-sim ilar to many d ifferen t birds species. I f
fo od is a b u n d a n t, there is con g reg atio n and sharing.
E em e fo o d sharing, how ever, is n ot com parable to th e d aily practices o f
n an icabo fo o d sharing d escrib ed in chapter 5, w h ich is characterized by
repetitive acts o f giving aw ay th at create bonds o f shared substance. Feast
goers, w h o through the p e rfo rm an ce o f dance and so n g transform them
Eeme Festivals 135
selves in to birds gorging on a fru itin g tree, do not share fo od ; rather, they
jo in tly con su m e from a n atural source, a tree. Feast sh arin g stands in con
trast to longhou se sharing, a n d each relates to a d ifferen t construction o f au
tonom y. Feast sharing is not really sharing at all; rather, it is the partaking o f
n aturally abundant food fro m a treelike source. “ H u m an birds” are unilat
erally co n su m in g from a naturalized source (a tree-couple), in total freedom
and independence. N o th in g b in d s them to the source o r to each other, ex
cept the gregarious pleasure o f con gregating and celebratin g. B y contrast,
w ithin the longhouse, each p erson is in turn receiver an d giver; the daily
practices o f this particular fo rm o f fo od sharing, characterized by repeat
ed— b u t n ot reciprocated— acts o f givin g away, create lasting bonds o f
shared substance, crystallized in en d u rin g social units.
A s the last song en d s, a short silence, pregn an t w ith danger, ensues. I f the
alliance is agreeable to all, the festival resum es, and bowls o f cerem onial
d rin k are offered to the stupefied new lyw eds. I f the b rides m other has not
been consulted and looks on the alliance d isapprovingly, she m ay run aw ay
w ith her daughter.15 A n y participant w ho feels despoiled by the m arriage
arrangem ent m ay v o ic e his or her anger. H u a o ra n i oral tradition is full o f
stories o f outraged m en resorting to their spears and turning m arriage cele
brations into blood sh ed . Such outcom es are characteristic o f alliances
across regional b ou n d aries, as m entioned in ch apter 3, but, as w e saw in
chapter 5, these tragic failures are avoided w h e n grandparents u n ite the
ch ild o f one o f their sons to the child o f one o f th eir daughters. A n o th er w ay
to avoid such failures is n ot to invite those w h o m igh t oppose the m arriage
and face them later w ith the fait accom pli.
T h e new spouses co n tin u e to chant and d an ce w ithin their respective
gender group until the festival ends. T h e m arriage is truly consum m ated
the follow ing day, w h e n the bridegroom , w h o has gone hun tin g fo r his
bride, receives from h e r a bowl o f banana d rin k (peene) or any other fru it
drin k in exchange fo r gam e. T h e new cou ple is n o w ready to leave and trek
back to the bride’s n ative longhouse, where the b rid e makes her ow n hearth,
separate from her m o th e r’s. Both parties m u st con sent to m arriage, an d, if
the yo u n g couple refuses to perform the ritu al that marks their eco n o m ic
com plem entarity, the alliance is aborted. E ith e r the bride or b ridegroom
m ay precipitate the term in ation o f the m arriage b y n ot engaging in the re
ciprocal giving o f co m p lem en tary food. A lth o u g h m arriage is a collective
affair, initiated by m em b ers o f the grandp arent generation, and p u b licly
sanctioned, it m ust be agreeable to all parties. M arriage occurs if, and o n ly
if, the collective and the individual are in accordance. T h u s it follow s that
m arriage as a process, th at is, as the progressive u n fo ld in g o f the con ju gal
bond, the most c o m m o n pattern in A m azo n ia (K en sin ger 1984), starts after
the marriage alliance has been celebrated, an d after husband and w ife have
ritually agreed to b ecom e econom ic partners.
H uaorani m arriage, therefore, m ay not be explain ed as public recogn i
tion o f sexual partn ersh ip. Q uite to the con trary, pu b lic recognition in the
form o f a w edding ce rem o n y engenders the social space in w hich con ju gal
intim acy develops. B y agreeing to the co n ju g a l econom ic contract, the
yo u n g husband and w ife proclaim their a d u lth o o d ; they are n ow m ature
enough to bear ch ild ren . Finally, it should be n oted that w ed d in g cere
m onies o f the kind ju s t described are o n ly celeb rated for the first m arriage
(that is, for the first sister a m an marries), b u t i f a m an leaves his w ife ’s nan-
140 Eeme Festivals
,»'•> v*;: v
t;* .V v - .
wm$i
■..ST' Mit*.
p la te 6 Huaponi quehuemoni (We live well).
p la te 7 Father and son.
p la t e 8 M othering, singing, and weaving.
PLATE 10
p la t e ii Pipeline along the via Auca.
p la te 12 Oil fields in the heart o f Huaorani land.
p la te 14 Dayuma and Moipa at a general meeting o f the Huaorani nation.
I
PLATE 15
QuehueireOno
Eeme Festivals />/
Huaorani eem e d rin k in g festivals an d the ensuing “w ild ” m arriages are part
o f a sim ilar political strategy that places brother-brother alliances above
brother-sister ones, and favors v irilo c a lity over uxorilocality.
A further an d final point needs to be pursued in order to understand
H uaorani m arriage alliances fully; it concerns the practical and sym bolic
correlation b etw een m arriage form s an d subsistence activities, or, said dif
ferently, the precise correlation b etw een endogam y, uxorilocality, and hunt
ing-gathering, as opposed to exogam y, virilocality, and m an ioc cultivation.
It is rem arkable that while gathered fru its, and the ch on ta palm in particu
lar, are associated w ith the m ost en d ogam o u s forms o f m arriage, m anioc
cultivation is stron gly related to m ore exogam ic form s o f m arriage ex
change.25 W h e n com m en ting on the difficulties o f m arryin g outside the
huaom oni g ro u p , people occasionally referred to the fact that neither m an
ioc gardens n o r alliances forged w ith distant relatives last, thus im plying
that, by co n trast, marriages celebrated w ith in the huaom on i grou p during
chonta p alm d rin k in g festivals are stable and lasting unions.
As discussed earlier in the b o ok , the H uaorani, in differen t cultivators
who open sm all gardens th roughou t th eir territory, regardless o f the sea
son— and n o t every year— tend to keep m anioc as an exception al crop for
cerem onial purposes. T h e A m p h itry o n ic function o f ch on ta palm groves is
similar in m a n y w ays to that o f m a n io c gardens. But w hereas ch on ta palm
fruit celebrates the seasonal en coun ters o f endogam ous regional house
groups, m a n io c is used to forge n ew p o litical alliances. T h e tw o plants, with
their co ntrastive practical and sy m b o lic qualities, enable the fo rm ation , or
the renew al, o f very different types o f alliances. T h is differen ce in use is re
lated to the fact that m anioc and ch o n ta palm grow at d ifferen t rates (see
Rival 1993). M a n io c , like all garden crop s, is fast-grow ing and short-lived.
C honta p a lm , lik e m ost tree fruit, com es from a slow -grow in g plan t whose
bounty turns the forest into a giv in g en vironm ent. M an io c, full o f vital en
ergy, is h ig h ly productive and m ay be cultivated at an y tim e o f year, almost
anywhere. H o w ever, m anioc fails to reproduce in situ. N ever planted twice
in the sam e p lace, it migrates th ro u g h o u t the forest, at the m ercy o f hum an
alliances. C h o n ta palm groves, b y con trast, grow slow ly and con tin ue to
give fruit in the sam e place, year after year, as long as house groups care for
them. T h e slow -grow in g legacy o f past generations, the ch o n ta palm pro
vides the p erfect fru it to drink an d celebrate entre nous.
CH APTER SEV EN
had no idea w h en I first set o f f to do fieldw ork that state sch oolin g
lasted th roughou t their p rim a ry education, that is, six or seven years. Peo
ple v a lu e d the state o f b ein g civilized, and atten din g school was definitely
the w a y to becom e gente c iv iliz a d a ‘cultured, civilized p eo p le.’ A s a result,
habits created by school rou tin es w ere lived as a qu est fo r modernity.
'OCTiat struck me m ost at the tim e, however, w as that the newly intro
du ced school institution w as creatin g around itse lf a co m m u n ity in which
social relations, subsistence activities, the very m o d e o f existence and iden
tity w e re being restructured in w ays that u n derm in ed the reproduction o f
core lo cal, kin-based social fo rm s and cultural m ean in gs. Schools were not
ju st a b o u t education; they w ere sites o f struggle, w h ere the view that educa
tion is necessary to h u m an progress, em ancipation , and democracy was
rein terpreted and where c o m p e tin g interests, valu es, and pow er relations
w ere expressed. M ore than m ere educational in stitu tio n s, schools formally
lin k ed H u aorani villages to the state, sim u ltan eously integrating nuclear
fam ilies an d individual citizen s w ith in the national society. Furthermore,
teachers w ere assum ing the role o f com m un ity leaders an d rural developers.
A s a result, school issues w ere inseparable from so cio eco n o m ic develop
m en t (R ival 1992, chaps. 5, 6). S ch o o l villages, as I called them (i.e., schools
and the villages they created aro u n d them), were places w here relationships
betw een fam ily, com m un ity, an d the state were articu lated and negotiated.
T h is led m e to see in p rim ary ed u cation a central in stitu tio n o f the Ecuado
rian state, and in education p o licies the reflection o f con flicts over political
representation , legitim acy, cu ltu ral identity, and nation alism .
O b se rv in g the introd uction o f state schools in H u a o ra n i settlements was
a fascin atin g exercise. I w as w itn essin g the penetration o f a W estern institu
tion an d observing its regu larized practices in a social environm ent com
p lete ly different from that im agin ed by, for instance, A lthusser, Foucault, or
B o u rd ieu . T h e sim ple fact o f separatin g children, w h o w ere learning how to
read, w rite, and count, fro m the rest o f the com m u n ity, a m easure so alien
to H u a o ra n i ideas about socialization and the transm ission o f culture and
k n o w led ge, w ell illustrates the type o f clashes that exist betw een indigenous
and W estern types o f ed u catio n . I concluded that sch o o lch ild ren in villages
an d ch ildren raised in lo n gh o u ses in the forest acqu ire a different knowl
edge o f th eir culture because the learning activities th ey engage in take place
in co n trastive environm ents (R iv a l 1996a; 1996c).
M y focu s was on the w ays th at culture is externalized fo r political ends, a
process w ell illustrated by the H u aorani experience o f state schooling as the
in stitu tio n al context o f cu ltu ral transm ission. C o n seq u en tly, rather than d i
rectly addressing the issue o f m u lticu ltu ral education an d b ilingual curricu
Schools in the Rain Forest
enem y bands o f equ al size. T h eir cohabitation w as fin ally secured u n der the
twin leadership o f R ach el and D ayum a, w h o celebrated num erous w e d
dings between new -com ers (Bahuairi) an d old -tim ers (G u iq u etairi), and
w h o urged everyone to fo llo w the two fu n d am en tal rules o f no m ore spear
in g and m on ogam ou s m arriage. T h ese in te r-b an d w edding cerem onies
were celebrated both in the Christian w ay (w ith a church service an d the
consum ption o f special food , such as ca n n ed pears in syrup and w e d d in g
cakes) and accordin g to H uaorani tradition (w ith the bride and gro o m
seized by their relatives d u rin g a drinking cerem on y, seated in a h am m o ck ,
and tied together).
A s discussed in ch ap ter 6, mistrust and m u tu a l h ostility can o n ly be over
com e by m arriage. In T ih u en o in-com ing m e n , an xious to legitim ize their
n ew residential affiliatio n , sought to m arry n e w spouses. M o n ogam y, h o w
ever, meant that B ah u a iri men and w o m en , i f already m arried, co u ld not
take another G u iq u e ta iri spouse to co n so lid ate their position w ith in the
new com m unity. It also m eant that y o u n g e r sisters, w ho were prevented
from m arrying th eir o ld e r sisters’ husbands, h ad little choice but to m arry
the latter’s you nger broth ers instead. B y the ea rly seventies T ih u en o ’s p o p u
lation had tripled. A s m a n y as 525 people w ere liv in g there in 19 73, o f w h ich
350 had arrived after 19 6 7 , w hile the n u m b er o f peop le still rem ain in g o u t
side the Protectorate w as around 10 0 (Yost 19 7 9 :14 ) .3
T h rou gh conversation s w ith inform ants, I w as able to reconstruct life in
T ih u en o in the 19 7 0 s an d identify som e o f th e social problem s affectin g the
com m unity. W h ereas m issionaries especially rem em bered ep id em ic o u t
breaks, m y H u ao ran i hosts tended to rem em b er fo o d shortages m ost v iv id
ly. H uaorani in fla tio n a ry demands for m issio n aid spiraled to the po in t
that, in 1976, the S I L d ecid ed to isolate the p o p u la tio n in the hope that such
a measure w ould cu rtail their increasing e c o n o m ic dependency (Yost 19 79 ).
T h is left D ayu m a an d R ach el, legitim ized ou tsid ers placed at the cen ter o f
the new C hristian society, in a difficult p o sitio n . T h e y had foun d ed a large
H uaorani settlem ent (three or four times larg er than traditional ones) b y at
tracting and retain in g follow ers for about fifte en years through th eir a b ility
to control m arriage alliances and secure flo w s o f m anufactured good s and
fo o d stu ff (Stoll 19 82; K in gslan d 1985; Yost 19 7 9 ; 1981a).
W hen the S IL d evelo p m en t policy ch an ged an d w hen m issionary m ate
rial wealth ended, m a n y G uiquetairi and P iy e m o iri left T ih u en o w ith their
Bahuairi and H u e p eiri allies to create n e w d isp ersed settlem ents th ro u g h
out the Protectorate. T h e y established clearings in forest sites that h ad been
occupied a few decades earlier by their “gran d p aren ts” (Rival 19 9 2 :18 —19).
[fio Schools in the Rain Forest
As village sites were ch osen according to w h eth er these were sites w h ere
Guiquetairi and P iyem oiri ascendants lived an d d ied , in-m arrying m en an d
women from th eT ip u tin i, Y asu n i, and C o n o n a c o region s found them selves
in the position o f refugees, incorporated guests, a n d follow ers o f those w h o ,
having “up-river” (iru m en ga) roots, form ed th e political core o f n ew ly
formed villages. Said d ifferen tly, the settlem ents fo u n d ed by G u iq u e ta iri
and Piyemoiri, who w ere the legitim ate in h ab itan ts o f this part o f H u a o ra n i
land, resulted from the in d u ced dislocation an d recom position o f p re c o n
tact bands. Th ey grew stro n g du rin g the 1980s, and m an y became “sch o o l
villages” in the 1990s. E q u ip p e d with radios co n n e cte d to the m ission h o s
pital in Shell Mera and to the S IL headquarters in Q u ito , w ith airstrips an d
state schools, these villages, w h ich are now m a rk ed o n E cuador’s n atio n al
map, benefit from legal go vern m ent recogn ition.
W hen S IL missionaries progressively resum ed th eir activities in the n e w
settlements, they p roceed ed w ith extrem e ca u tio n , so that Bible tran slation
work4 would not lead to fo o d dependency. B u t the process o f sedentariza-
tion and riverine ad ap tation accelerated. T h e m issio n a ry unilateral g iv in g
o f gifts had started in 1955, w ith gifts d ropped fro m M A F aircrafts. A fte r
1982 manufactured go od s w ere no longer given a w a y but had to be p aid fo r
in cash or traded. H o w ever, and as shall b ecom e clear below, reciprocal ex
change never supplanted d e m a n d sharing. T h e H u a o ra n i have not ceased to
want to tap freely o f G o d ’s w ealth o r o f school riches.
A t first sight, these villag es appear sim ilar to m a n y A m azonian h u n ter-
horticulturist com m unities. H ow ever, to analyze them in purely ecological
and adaptive terms (see ch ap ter 4) w ould miss the fact that, built as th ey are
around airstrips, aw ay fro m hilltops, and in th e v ic in ity o f main rivers, th ey
correspond to a new fo rm o f adaptation to lo calized resources an d n ew
sources o f political c o n tro l, as well as to a sh ift fro m nanicabo sh a rin g to
host-guest relationships. W ith o u t d en ying th at adaptation to riverin e
biotopes and horticultural intensification h ave p layed an im portant role in
sustaining the viability o f relatively large and lastin g hum an settlem ents, I
wish to stress that H u a o ra n i sedentarized settlem en ts are rooted in p o litica l
processes, o f which the intensification o f ga rd en in g is just one o f the m a n i
festations. Village life is n o t o n ly im possible b u t, m o re im portant, u n th in k
able, without the cu ltiva tio n o f crops to m ake th e food-drin ks that su stain
host-guest relations. G a rd e n s are not what keeps the village together, h o w
ever. Functioning airstrips, churches, and sch o ols are really w hat b in d s the
population together in larg er village agglom erates. W ith o u t their existence,
village life, peace, and exp an sion , w hich have to be created from w ith o u t,
Schools in the Rain Forest 16 1
deed the stories th ey learn to read in th eir prim ers and readers a n d to copy
down in their notebooks about m oth ers an d little girls clean in g the house,
boys taking show ers, children b ru sh in g th eir teeth, or d o cto rs w arn in g
against flies, rats, and other infectious pests do turn them in to E cu ad o rian
citizens. T h e y are fascinated by the h y g ie n e and civility advocated in school
and eager to ap p ly to their own b od ies n ew form s o f b o d y care, foreign
foods, clothing, and courteous m an n ers. A s a result, the tran sfo rm atio n
they routinely undergo as pupils is m o re p h ysical than spiritual. F ro m their
vantage poin t, sch oolin g represents the collective dram atization--- o r cere
monial p erform an ce--- o f their m ode o f in corp o ratin g m od ern citizenship,
that is, this new social form they call ser civilizados. T h is is p a rticu la rly clear
in youths w h o have com pleted th eir p rim a ry education an d still hang
around the sch ool, show ing off, w ith a h in t o f nostalgia, their d ecisive way
o f crossing the airstrip while looking stra ig h t ahead and h o ld in g a pen and
a notebook in the characteristic m a n n er o f literates.
T h e school routines evoked h ere,10 an d their obsessive co n cern w ith the
body and cleanliness, m ay call for a F o u cau ld ia n analysis o f the em b o d i
ment o f pow er an d o f the in d ivid u als historical con stitu tion th ro u g h the
institutional dom in ation o f the b o d y a n d its sexuality. B ut, as I h ave com e
to realize, such an approach fails to a cco u n t fo r the fact that the adults and
children w hose lives I shared are w illin g subjects perfectly at ease w ith their
new experiences and zealously en gaged in their b od ily tran sfo rm atio n . I f
there is sym b olic violence in this p a rticu la r case, it does not reside in the ab
solute and coercive pow er o f carceral organ izatio n s that repress in d ivid u a l
ity, brutalize bodies, and control m in d s (R iva l 1992:252). N o r can the desire
to become m od ern be interpreted as resu ltin g purely from in d o ctrin a tio n or
other form s o f ideological coercion. T h e transform ations caused b y contact
and resulting from the dialectical in te rp la y betw een en d o gen o u s an d ex
ogenous forces fo rm an integral part o f so ciety and, as such, shed ligh t on
historical dyn am ics. “ Huaoraniness” is n ot lived in a vacu u m b u t in the
context o f sh iftin g definitions o f w h at b e in g h um an m eans. T h e d esire to be
modern and civilized, that is, to be lik e a n y other national o n e m ig h t meet
in the streets o f a n y jungle town, relegates cultural au th en ticity to the
shrinking realm s o f autarkic privacy, b o th in the hom e and in the forest.
M ore im p ortan t, there was so m eth in g u n iq u ely A m azo n ian in the way
my H uaorani hosts and friends were le a rn in g to be m odern b y m em orizin g
textbook lessons on hygiene, execu tin g com m an d s such as “ B ru sh your
teeth before en tering the classroom !” a n d , above all, im itatin g the teachers,
something I did n o t com prehend fu lly b efo re reading recent an alyses o f the
i6 6 Schools in the Rain Forest
co n tin u o u s fabrication o f the b o d y in this part o f the w o rld .11 Rather than
b ein g spiritu ally con q u ered , in the sense discussed b y A lthusser or B o u r-
d ieu , H u ao ran i sch oolch ild ren were actively assim ilatin g the bodily p ra c
tices o f teachers and o th er nationals, and w orking at incorporating m od ern
d isp osition s through rote learn in g and other repetitive school exercises that
n egate individuality. In th is sense, they were acting as the authors o f th eir
o w n acculturation, u n d erstoo d as the acquisition o f another body, w ith
n ew affects and capacities. Literacy, which to them transform ed the b o d y
b efo re altering the m in d , w as ju st one such capacity alo n g w ith m any o th
ers, fo r exam ple, k n o w in g novel ways o f speaking, eatin g, w alking, dressing,
b u ild in g houses, and so fo rth .
to the teachers’ tropical m u sic. O r they take a lo n g , hard look at the m od
ern am enities, which, they kn ow , are also fo u n d in the ju n gle towns sur
ro u n d in g H uaorani land (T en a, M isah u alli, or C o c a ). O n e day, so they have
been told, they, too, w ill h ave electricity, ru n n in g w ater, show ers, and toilets
in th eir ow n houses.12
M u c h active learning thus goes on around the sch ool before, during, and
after n orm al school h ou rs, w h en off-d uty teachers (getting ready in the
m o rn in g s or relaxing in the evenings) becom e in v o lu n ta ry masters eagerly
m o d eled b y unwanted ap p ren tices (children, y o u th s, o r passing villagers).
T h e teachers’ ways o f w a k in g u p and dressing, w ash in g , co o k in g and eating,
p lay in g the guitar, con versin g, reading, and listen in g to the radio are scruti
nized, endlessly com m ented o n , an d even parodied. T h e sam e occurs when
ever a grou p o f visitin g o u tsid ers (tourists, traders, governm ent officials,
m issionaries, and so forth) is tem porarily lodged in a classroom . T h is eager
ness to im itate and use o n e ’s b o d y in the m anner o f foreigners observed in
their hom es partly explains w h y the schooling o f H u a o ra n i children does
n ot in volve reform ing th eir nature through the im p o sitio n o f disciplined
o b edience. C hildren, like ad u lts, are natural co n fo rm ists w hen it comes to
e m b o d y in g the biocultural processes that m ake up the dom esticity o f m od
ern others.
T h e re is, as already n o ted , an oth er side to the H u a o ra n i’s cultural inter
est in transform ation and ch an ge as a bodily process: the consum ption o f
a vast range o f goods that b rin gs about the m aterialization o f modernity
and activates the in c o rp o ratin g powers o f civilized , tow n-dw elling de
m ean ors. T h e m anufactured g o o d s necessary fo r the em bodied perform
ance o f m odernity are thus valu e d as an essential, m aterial com ponent o f
the n e w m odern identity. T h e y are also valued fo r the w a y they are acquired,
w h ich should be through the equal and in d ividu al distribu tion o f aid or
th ro u g h tapping sources o f n atural abundance, such as the material wealth
associated w ith oil co m p an ies. In fact, m an u factu red goods are obtained
fro m tw o m ain sources, oil com p an ies (Rival 2 0 0 0 ) an d schools, with new
flo w s o f exchange co n n ectin g the H uaorani p o p u latio n , the teachers, and
vario u s outside agencies— govern m en t institutions, ch arity organizations,
and corp oration s.13
V illag es clustered aro u n d a sch ool co m poun d an d an airstrip are marked
on the m ap o f Ecuador, lin k ed to m ajor towns b y m o d ern systems o f com
m u n icatio n and transport (contact-radios and airplan es), and are much
m ore lik ely to be included in vario u s aid distribu tion netw orks, w ith teach
ers serv in g as interm ediaries. G o o d s obtained fro m ch arity or relief organi
¡68 Schools in the Rain Forest
O il C a m p s R iches
Q u ite clearly, H uaorani villag ers w o u ld like sch ools to b e, like oil cam ps,
patches o f abu ndance in the forest. N o rth A m erican a n d E u ro p ean oil co m
pan ies, w h ic h have w orked so u th o f the N ap o R iv e r sin ce the late 19 70 s,
have resign ed themselves to the fact that native forest dw ellers form an in
tegral p a rt o f their industrial en viro n m en t. T h e y treat H u a o ra n i villages as
a d d itio n al cam ps to be serviced and provisioned in th e exact sam e w ay as
any o th e r w o rk in g site. B y d e liv e rin g food a n d e q u ip m e n t to villages w h en
ever th e y operate w ithin H u a o ra n i territory, co m p an ies h op e to avoid the
lo o tin g o f th eir forest cam ps an d the occupation o f th eir w ell sites. D u rin g
the se ism ic su rvey program s o f 1989 and 1990, I saw h elicopters fly w eekly
to e v e ry villag e and deliver w h a t w as usually given to o il w orkers: rations o f
fo od , p ots, axes, gardening to o ls, tents, m edicine, a n d so forth. T h e goods,
w ra p p e d in individual b u n d les, w ere pu b licly d istrib u ted b y com pan y em
ployees an d schoolteachers. T h e s e gifts w ere extrem ely appreciated, and the
d o n ated fo o d (rice, oats, an d sugar) was trad itio n ally prepared, either as
“fo o d d rin k ” (bequi) or “d r y fo o d ” (quengui).
C a m p v isitin g blends sm o o th ly w ith in foragin g activities and nom adic
m o vem en ts, and H uaorani w o rk ers are frequently v isite d b y their relatives.
G iv e n the prohibitive cost o f h elicopter freight, c a m p eq u ip m en t (tents,
plates, co o k in g pots, b lan kets, contain ers, etc.), a n d seism ic survey eq u ip
m en t (electric w ire, tubes, iro n sheets, etc.) are s im p ly left behind, m ost
o ften fo r the H u ao ran is exclu sive use. T h e discarded g e ar is used as raw m a
Schools in the Rain Forest 169
Sun d ays, they to u r m o re distant n eighb orh ood clusters asking fo r fruit,
gam e m eat, or b u n c h e s o f plantain. W h en they, in turn, are visited b y v il
lagers asking fo r fish in g h ooks, m edicine, o r sugar, they make a p o in t o f ask
in g fo r food in ex ch a n g e. It is through this continuous process o f n eg o tia
tion that the teachers progressively force H u ao ran i villagers in to accep tin g
reciprocal exch an ge an d distinguishing tw o categories o f people: th ose w h o
are at school an d d o n o t have the time to gro w fo od and those w h o c u lti
vate, fish, and h u n t an d m ust provide fo r the w h o le village co m m u n ity ,
n o n -k in included.
rely on non cu ltivated food d evelo p forest-m anagem ent practices that lead
to greater concentrations o f favo re d resources w ith in specific areas. In so
doing, th ey do transform nature, albeit in a distinctive w ay, for their tech
niques are not geared to in tensify prod uction outputs.
A n oth er, related problem w ith the devolution thesis is that it overem
phasizes the evolution ary sign ifican ce o f dom estication an d treats swidden
horticulture as a hom ogeneous an d em pirical category, ig n o rin g the im por
tance o f subsistence modes in d e fin in g group identity. Foragers and seden-
tarized cu ltivators have developed radically different m eans o f associating
with plan ts and alternative w a y s o f b eing in the w o rld and know ing it.
Rather than a continuum o f in te n sity o f resource ex p lo ita tio n , foraging and
cu ltivation constitute alternative strategies o f resource procurem ent and
modes o f practical and in tentional engagem ent w ith th eir environm ent (In
gold 19 9 6 ). T h is significant d ifferen ce does m atter in term s o f identity for
m ation, as w ell as in terms o f in tereth n ic relations, g iv en that, on the w hole,
gardeners feel m orally su perior to foragers and trekkers (R ival 19 9 9 ^ 8 2).
Last b u t not least, the d e vo lu tion thesis entirely ign ores the fact that the
H u aorani d o n ot experience o r represent their lack o f in tensive horticulture
as a regression to a presocial state .3 T h e ir lesser reliance o n garden products
results fro m specific representations o f the w orld and fro m political choices
predating the conquest. A s a resu lt, they contrast trek k in g and village life as
two d ifferen t types o f sociality, lin k ed to different styles o f feasting and cel
ebrating natural abundance. M o reo ver, they practice a n d represent trekking
not o n ly as a conscious form o f adaptation to a landscape m odified by past
occupants but also as a form o f p rotection against predators. A n im al preda
tion an d p lan t fructification th u s becom e the contrastive sources o f cultur
al representations that m ediate the relation between en viron m en tal change
and h istorical events. A cen tral thesis o f this b o ok is th at a good under
stan d in g o f H uaorani h istory a n d o f its relationship w ith the natural histo
ry o f the forest requires not o n ly the exam ination o f historiographic docu
m ents, as defended by p o stco lo n ial historians, an d a botanical study o f
forest d yn am ics, as so cogen tly argu ed b y Balee, but also an analysis o f their
religious ideas about life an d d eath . For it is w ith su ch ideas in their m inds
that th ey h ave becom e ecological an d historical agents o f change.
W e saw in chapter 3 that the H u a o ra n i think about h isto ry as a succession
o f tim es o f peace and expan sion follow ed b y times o f w a r and destruction,
and that v io len t death, a source o f discontinuity that creates history, is basic
to their representations o f th e past. T h e bipartite so cial w orld com prises
two k in d s o f beings, the h u a o ra n i (true people) and the cohuori (non-H uao-
Prey at the Center 18 1
rani o r can n ib al others); not o n ly are huaorani o n to lo g ica lly differen t from
coh u ori, b u t they are the latte rs prey. From the H u a o ra n i p o in t o f view,
which is that o f the victim , co h u o ri socially reproduce b y p re y in g on huao
rani an d appropriating their life force, w hile huaorani c o n tin u o u sly try to
escape b ein g consum ed by these nu m erou s and p o w e rfu l predators. B y re
sisting the dom inant social order, fleeing, and d efen d in g th eir political au
tonom y, h uaorani prey avoid b ec o m in g coh u ori-like p red ato rs, an d, as a re
sult, p red ation remains unilateral. F u lly accepting th eir o w n finitude, the
H u aorani h ave defended their co llective existence, as w e ll as th eir in d ivid
ual lives, b y m aintaining a separate identity. I f they h ave in v e n ted m ore co
huori adversaries than those actu ally existin g in their so cial environ m en t
(Erikson 19 9 3), they have done so not w ith the p u rp o se o f in corporating
them in to th eir society but, on the con trary, in order to flee fro m them and
survive w ith o u t needing a n yth in g from the cohuori w o rld . H u ao ran i peo
ple trek to escape predation, n ot to perpetrate it.4
O ral narratives also m en tion that the “true p e o p le” have survived
through th eir continuous effort to circum scribe irru p tio n s o f internal fury
and h o m icid al drives, which p e rio d ically have b rou ght the H u a o ra n i nation
to the b rin k o f extinction and again st w h ich they feel po w erless, even i f the
taking o f lives internally differs fro m external predation . A s discussed in
chapter 3 an d subsequently, k illin g produces internal d ifferen ce in the sense
that the killer, his body overtaken b y rage, turns, in the eyes o f his fellow co
residents, fro m insider to outsider, w h ile his victim , i f b u ried alive and
dying w ith on e o f his children, d eparts, in the eyes o f his h ou se grou p, as a
true insider, a father, and a cogn ate. In this sense, the fath er-c h ild sacrifice
is p ro d u ctive o f kinship m em ory. M o re generally, the v io le n tly k illed are re
m em bered as individuals w hose deaths are there to be aven ged . Further, as
I show ed in chapter 6, internal k illin g is also represented as b ein g caused by
the p o litical w ill o f men w h o, in their attem pt to co n tro l the com position
and localizatio n o f residential u n its, refuse their peaceful in sertio n as uxor-
ial h usb an d s and fathers. I have co n c lu d ed , on this basis, th at H u ao ran i so
ciety is n o t characterized by the ap p ro p riatio n o f alien su b jectivities but, in
stead, b y the internal fabrication o f otherness as a co m p le m e n ta ry process
to the p ro d u ctio n o f selfsameness.
T h e d istrib u tion and m o b ility o f the H uaorani p o p u la tio n , as I have
argued in this book, is linked as m u ch to the con tin u ed existence o f long-
houses, forest groves, and seasonal rituals o f congregation as it is to preda
tion and destruction. Unlike the Parakana, am ong w h o m n o m ad ism , for-
aging, an d w arfare are closely in terrelated phenom ena (Fau sto 1998:327!?.),
182 Prey at the Center
forest life, they define a social and sym bolic w o rld in w h ich their o w n re
gen eration does not d ep en d on rebounding v io le n c e (B lo ch 1992) or on re
cy c lin g the world’s lim ited fertility and life fo rce (A rh em 1996). R ath er,
these persecuted subjects depen d entirely on th eir o w n in n er vital resources.
M y argum ent here is th at i f predation is cen tral to A m azon ian so cio lo gy
an d social philosophies, an d i f w e apply p ersp ectivism (Viveiros de C astro
1998b) consistently, then w e m ust allow fo r su b je ct positions other than
th at o f predator, in particular, for that o f prey.
B ru ce A lbert, w hose doctoral thesis on th e Y an o m am i (Albert 1985)
lau n ch ed the predation approach to A m azo n ian w a rfare, argues in a recent
p u b lication (Albert 1993) that sym bolic p re d a tio n relates to the “fetish ism
o f cosm ological reciprocity,” as well as to a p a rtic u la r type o f historical c o n
sciousness that conceptualizes change in term s o f radical m etam orphoses
an d not in terms o f progressive m utations. M y en d eavo r in this b o o k has
been to show that H u a o ra n i ethnohistory em b races both con ceptualiza
tio n s o f change. V io len t death, viewed as a catalyst fo r change in structures
an d social relations, precipitates the m u tation o f tim es o f peace and ex p a n
sio n in times o f war an d destruction. T h e return to peace, however, does n o t
o ccu r through a radical m etam orphosis b u t th ro u g h a gradual process o f
d w ellin g in, and grow ing w ith , the forest.
Interestingly, and as discussed in chapter 5, the sam e contrast applies to
the social relations b y w h ic h people part or co alesce. It is far easier to leave
H u a o ra n i society, or a lon gh ou se w ithin it, th an to b ecom e incorporated. It
is m u ch easier to cease to be a H uaorani than to b eco m e one. O n e becom es
an outsider almost instantaneously, as soon as o n e leaves H uaorani la n d 7 or
as soon as one departs fro m o n es nanicabo to jo in an oth er longhouse resi
den ce. A nger equally turns a m an into an “o th e r” (h u a ), even i f the in stan
taneous transform ation is, in m ost cases, tem p orary. T h e process by w h ich
u xorial husbands becom e insiders (guiri) w ith in th eir w ives’ house gro u ps
(an d one cannot be a huao person w ithout b e in g a g u iri) is, by co m pariso n ,
lo n g and slow. It seems to m e that the scalar o p p o sitio n between inside and
o u tsid e (Rivière 1984) o r betw een affines an d co g n ates (V iveiros de C astro
a n d Fausto 1993) relates, in this case, to a fu n d am en ta l tem poral asym m etry
b etw een detachm ent an d attachm ent or in c o rp o ra tio n . W hereas the latter
is sw ift and fluid— in fact, as easy as it is to m o ve th rough the forest and
th ro u gh history— the fo rm er is a gradual p ro cess o f shared living, w h ich
takes tim e.
Furtherm ore, a sim ilar contrast is fou n d in the classification o f n atural
categories. As I have discussed elsewhere (R iv a l 19 9 3a), H uaorani eth n o -
¡86 Prey at the Center
botany d ifferen tiates plants that g ro w slow ly and perdure fro m those that
grow fast b u t d ie o ff. In the sam e article I touched on the p o litica l im plica
tions o f this co n trast, as trust in leaders o f m an ioc-d rin kin g cerem onies
(m anioc b e in g a fast-grow ing crop) is lim ited— indeed, as sh ort-lived as
their garden su p p lies. T h e present stu d y has gone a step fu rth er in show ing
another w a y o f m o d elin g social relations on two distinct n atural processes,
w hich adds th e distin ction betw een vegetal and animal life to the contrast
between slow , lon g-lastin g grow th versus fast, ephemeral g ro w th . T h e ag
gressive relatio n betw een preys an d predators, as found in the an im al king
dom , is m a rk ed b y extrem e h ostility an d separation. It is in the nature o f
pow erful c o h u o ri to reproduce them selves by con tin uously sn atch in g the
creativity, v ita lity , an d life force o f h uaoran i people. T h e latter can do no
m ore than e lu d e contact w ith ca n n ib al attackers, move abo u t as m u ch and
as often as p o ssib le, and count them selves am ong their o w n forces, hence
the political ch o ice o f radical isolation ism . B y contrast, the life-sustaining
relation b etw een people and forest plants, particularly fru itin g trees (and
the im p erson al agencies perceived as fu lfilling a sim ilar fu n c tio n ), is charac
terized b y great lavishness. It is in the nature o f trees and o th er fo od plants
o f the forest to give contin u ou sly to h u m an s w ithout ask in g an yth in g in re
turn. T h is n ew fin d in g leads me to fo rm u late a few general rem arks on the
sym bolic re p ro d u ctio n o f societies-m arginal to central p o w e rs.8
M argin al p e o p le such as the H u a o ra n i constitute them selves in collectiv
ities w h ose essen tial, em bodied q u alities are not derived fro m productive
labor b u t fro m shared experiences o f consum ption, co n stru ed as celebra
tions o f a b u n d a n ce . Like other social groups discussed in D ay, Papataxi-
.archis, an d S tew art (1998), they create and reproduce th eir separate and
auto n om ou s id e n tity by d evalu ing th eir participation in social relations o f
pro d u ction a n d b y givin g p riority to nonproductive form s o f sociality. C o n
co m itan tly th e y treat pow erful o u tsiders and dom inant forces as sources o f
endlessly ren ew ab le wealth. To va lu e sharing in con sum ption over cooper
ating in p ro d u c tio n and to treat oppressive political and e co n o m ic agents as
free sources o f w ealth and creativity are two sides o f the sam e coin . It is by
tapping e x te rn al, dom inant pow ers tu rned into expansive p ro d u ctive forces,
and by e lim in a tin g reciprocal exch an ge through vario u s naturalizing
processes, th a t the H uaorani periph eral collectivity reproduces itself.
H u ao ran i cu ltu re naturalizes social relations on vario u s levels. Starting
w ith the m o st inclusive level o f social interaction, that betw een longhouse
co-residents, w e fin d a system o f representations fo cu sin g o n co m m o n liv
Prey at the Center 187
o f ancient d w ellin g sites or forest groves, w h ere people have d w e lt, m arried,
and died, and w h ere people w ill co n tin u e to interact w ith o th e r life form s
and produce the w o rld as it is.
H uaorani so ciety has expanded both dem o graph ically and sp a tia lly since
the 1950s. It also has, despite the presen t situation o f in ten se con tact,
achieved a rem arkab le degree o f isolation . T h e present state m a y be de
scribed as one in w h ic h units o f sharing are reproduced w ith th eir egalitari
an and a n tip ro d u ctivist structures, and this fairly in d epen d en tly fro m one
another. Each m a in ta in s its own a u to n o m y and self-sufficiency b y securin g
direct access to the n ew sources o f n atu ral abundance, a strategy o f repro
duction favored b y the present political an d econom ic co n te xt. T h e re has
been no attem pt to dom esticate exchan ge— people have s im p ly sh u n aw ay
from it— and tre k k in g has remained the fu nd am en tal axis a rticu la tin g tim e,
space, and social organization.
H owever, o n e im p ortan t elem ent o f the social w orld seem s to have
changed radically. Surroun d in g colo n ists and indigenous g ro u p s are still
called cohuori, b u t they are no longer p erceived as predators o r ca n n ib a ls.10
It seems that th e p a rtly m ythic, p artly h istorical, cosm ic h iera rch y o f predr
ator and prey, w h ic h has constituted the outside o f H u ao ran i so cie ty and
has kept it separate and isolated for a v e ry lo n g tim e, has b e c o m e obsolete,
flight no lo n ger b e in g an option. In its place, and as exp lo red at len gth in
chapter 7, w e fin d the incorporation in to H u aorani society o f w e a lth y ou t
side agencies o r extern al cerem onial cen ters such as schools a n d evangelical
churches, w h ic h are treated as sources o f natural abundance a n d harassed
with con tin u ou s an d vastly inflated requests for m an u factu red go o d s. It
seems that sin ce the necessity to trek has disappeared, as th e ou tsid e no
longer threatens the population’s vital fo rces, enabling the p o p u la tio n to
expand p eacefu lly and exponentially, so cie ty no longer relies o n its own
inner forces b u t, rather, constitutes its e lf around an alien so u rce o f wealth
and power. S till, H u ao ran i villagers can som etim es be heard sa y in g : “ W h at
does not gro w decays. T h e times o f w a r an d destruction w ill n o t be lo n g in
com ing.”
N otes
Preface
I. T re k k in g in A m a z o n ia
1. For excellent exam ples o f this type o f research and a com prehensive bib liog
raphy, see H am es and Vickers 1983.
2. See, for exam ple, Lévi-Strauss 1968; S. H ugh-Jones 1979; C . H u gh -Jones
1979-, Seeger 1981; Basso 1973; and D escola 1994.
3. A particularly lucid summary o f the cultural evolutionist argum ent can be
found in Sponsel (1989:37):
8. See also Sponsel 1986; E d en 1990; and Posey 1985. Som e researchers even
argue that m any soil features underlying these forests are also the outcome o f
hum an intervention (H ech t and Posey 1989).
9. T h e existence o f anthropogenic forests, the product o f a dynam ic history o f
plant/hum an interaction, is further supported by tw o factors: the wide oc
currence o f charcoal and num erous potsherds in the forest soil, and the
greater concentration o f palm s, lianas, fruit trees, and other heavily used for
est resources on archaeological sites.
B alees hypothesis can be related to Posey’s (1984) characterization o f
K ayap o subsistence econom y, not as hunting and horticulture but as “agro
forestry,” that is, as an integrated system o f forest m anagem ent in which the
lim ited, shifting, and period ic removal o f the forest cover to cultivate food
crops represents one m om en t o f a complex cycle.
10 . H e says: “ T h e smaller a society gets, the more nom adic it becomes” (Balee
1992:50).
11. In the “w ild yam ” controversy, Balees thesis would therefore side with Bailey
(1991) and Bailey and H ead lan d (1991) against Bahuchet, M cKey, and G arine
(19 9 1), for it supports the contention that no hunter-gatherer could
have adapted to tropical rain forest habitats w ith ou t being surrounded by
cultivators.
12. Each cerem ony com prises four phases: the learning o f ceremonial songs; the
cerem onial trek (ontom or, literally ‘to go away for several nights’); the prepa
ration o f meat, fish, m an ioc, and corn drinks for the feast; and, finally, the all-
night dance. Verswijver (1992:249—55) defines the cerem onial trek as a hunt-
ing-gathering expedition taking place preferably at the end o f the dry season
(from August to O ctob er) during which large quantities o f meat and fish are
gathered, particularly tortoises and wild pigs. Versw ijver further differentiates
tw o types o f trek: ‘circu lar trekking’, when trekkers travel in a circle around
the village site and co m e back to the village for the final ceremony; and ‘lin
ear trekking’ , when trekkers progressively leave one village site for another or,
as seems to have been th e m ost com m on case in the past, for a new village,
the cerem ony coin cid in g w ith the first harvest o f m an ioc or corn.
13. T o sim plify, there are tw o aspects to dual opposition, (1) dual organization as
a principle constitutive o f social structure in the D urkheim ian tradition; and
(2) sym bolic polarity as a basic form o f collective representation follow ing
the theory o f structural linguistics. M aybury-Lew is (1979) follows N eedham
in seeing dualism as a general symbolic structure proper to most Ge speakers.
14. See, for example, Jo u rn e t 1995; Fausto 1998; Flowers 1994; and Ferguson
1998.
2. The Upper Amazan ip i
T h e U p p e r A m azo n fr o m O m a g u a E x p e n s io n to Z a p a r o C o llap se
See, in particular, contributions to Hill 1988 and to C arn eiro da Cunha 1992.
B u t also see Bernan 1992 for a critical review o f H ill’s misinterpretation o f
Lévi-Strauss’s ideas about history.
Cabodevilla (1994; 1996), although not always acknow ledging his sources
and sometimes m isinterpreting them, has usefully contributed to this effort
b y using all available publish ed and unpublished m aterials to reconstruct, if
o n ly hypothetically, w hat m ay have been the H uaorani historical trajectory
from precolonial to m odern times.
In the years preceding the Pizarro-Orellana expedition (see map 2.2), the
C o ronad os moved to the low er Pastaza, and the Z ap aros expanded south
w ard and eastward, w ith on e group, the Abisiras (Abigiras), colonizing the
right margin o f the river N a p o , where they fought hard against the Encabel-
lados in their attempt to achieve exclusive control over these lands.
T h e Spanish confusion as to the identity o f the A bigiras in relation to the
Zap aros may have arisen from the presence o f the A bigiras at the confluence
o f the N apo and Curaray rivers, and from the fact that Abigiras and Omagua
villages m ay have looked extrem ely similar. Ethnohistorians disagree on the
exact location o f O m agua settlements along the N a p o River. For Newson
(i996b:2i8), they were located at the confluence not o f the N apo and C u
raray as previously thought (M yers 1992) but o f the N apo and Coca rivers.
T h e O m agua went to the T ip u tin i, and the Encabellados settled on the right
m argin o f the Napo. O th er Tukanoans, the O as and Coronados, fled in the
early part o f the sixteenth cen tury to the lower Pastaza, where they learned a
Z a p aro dialect (Taylor 1986:303).
B u t see Chaumeil 1994:203 for a much later date.
Jo rg e Trujillo (personnal com m unication), an Ecuadorian anthropologist
w h o has done years o f research in the area, is o f the op inion that theTupi lan
guage was the lenguà g era l alon g the Napo until the eighteenth century and
that Zaparoan languages p robably derived, at least in part, from Tupi.
T h e Omaga-Yeté on the low er course o f the C o c a and U pper Napo; the
O m aga proper or Irim ara at the confluence between the N apo and Curaray
rivers; and a third group, the m ost numerous, east o f the confluence o f the
Putum ayo and Amazon rivers. See Viveiros de C astro 1992:24—29, for a brief
survey o f sociological variation and cosmological unity am ong the Tupian
populations, whose num bers approximated four m illion at the time o f the
European invasion.
T h e term originally m eant a large extension o f land given by the Spanish
K)2 2. The Upper Amazon
crown or the Creole authorities to a colonist, along w ith the indigenous pop
ulation originally living on it. T h e m ajor problem tropical lowland colonists
faced was the lack o f Indians on their lands.
9. See C abodevilla 1994:126 n. 62.
10. In Q uechua, the Incaic language used by the whites, ru na means ‘human’, in
the sense o f ‘tame’, and auca m eans ‘savage’, in the sense o f ‘fierce.’
11. Inform ation about the Z ap aroan tribes o f north Pastaza and o f the headwa
ters and middle courses o f the rivers Tigre and C u raray is scant. T h e only cer
tainty is that they were already in this location in the fifteenth century, sur
rounded by two Tukanoan groups— their trading partners— the Coronados
to the north and th eT ukan os proper to the east.
12. See quotes from chroniclers in Cabodevilla 1994:87, 88, particularly notes 51,
53, 62.
13. Q uoted in Cabodevilla 19 9 4 :178 . See also C ab o devilla 1994:135—61, for a
synthetic summ ary o f the im pact o f the rubber bo om on the indigenous
peoples o f the Amazon region o f Ecuador, and, m ost particularly, on the
Zaparos.
14. D iscovering the exact nature o f these processes should also provide an un
derstanding o f why the Z ap aro s were more w illin g to m ix with the Jivaros
and the Canelos Q uichua than with the N aporunas.
15. T h a t economic and political control o f the Ecuadorian state has not been ex
tended to the Amazon region before the m id-twentieth century bears a series
o f consequences for the indigenous populations o f the area, particularly for
the H uaorani (M uratorio 1991).
16. From Tagae, the band’s oldest member, who was alm ost certainly killed in
the early 1980s by security guards working for Braspetro. T h e Tagaeri are
closely related to a num ber o f Christianized H uaoran i w h o chose to live in
the Protectorate. W hen their land, found to be rich in petroleum , was in
vaded by a mass o f illegal settlers in the m id-1970s, the Tagaeri marched far
ther south, eventually p enetrating the hunting grounds o f the Cononaco
bands with whom they fou gh t before retreating even farther south, where
this time they clashed w ith oil workers. In Ju ly 19 87 the Capuchin m ission
ary and Archbishop M on señ or Labaca hoped to prevent further physical v i
olence by meeting the Tagaeri, with whom he had had a few peaceful en
counters in previous m onths. H e was dropped from an arm y helicopter with
a Colom bian nun in one o f their clearings; both were speared to death before
the night. T h e Tagaeri retreated even deeper in the forest after the killings,
where they are still in h id ing. T h eir fugitive condition is very difficult, and
they restrict cooking to nighttim e, when the sm oke cannot be easily detect
2. The Upper Amazon ip j
ed. T h e y cultivate sporadically under the canopee, w ith out felling trees or
op en in g a clearing.
17. T ip u tin i is apparently a w ord o f Tupi origin that m eans sandy river (Jorge
T ru jillo , personal com m unication). There are, to m y know ledge, two H uao
rani toponym s for this river, Yeyero (river o f the yeye fish) and G u iyero (river
o f the small guiye fish), w hich are used by different subgroups.
18. T h e missionaries o f the Sum m er Institute o f Linguistics (Peeke 1963; Kelley
1988; and Yost 1979) and the C apuchin priests (Labaca 1988; O rtiz Santos
19 9 1; and Cabodevilla 1994), w ho have interacted w ith H uaorani people for
m an y years, share this opinion.
19. C a rlo s Sevilla, on whose farm H uaorani wom en fou n d refuge ju st before the
arrival o f the S IL North A m erican missionaries (see R ival 1992), was the only
settler bold enough to establish a farm and rubber-collecting center (called El
C ap rich o) on the Tiputini. Som e o f his Zaparo laborers m arried H uaorani
w om en and men in the 1950s. T h e ir descendants are still livin g upriver from
T onam pari on the upper course o f the river Curaray.
20. I have often wondered w hat these tw o words were. D u rin g m y first spill o f
fieldw ork in 1989—90, H uaorani language com prised num erous words de
rived from Spanish and Q uich ua, som e o f which had entirely replaced exist
in g native terms.
21. I even found in Reinburg (i9 2ib :2io ) an intriguing reference to a Western
Tukanoan group, the Kobeua, w ho used the same w ord for the ayahuasca
vin e (Banisteria caapi spr1) as the H uaorani do, rnihi. H ow ever, this inform a
tion is spurious, for we do not know who these “ K obeua” were nor the crite
ria Reinburg used to determ ine their Tukanoan identity. A re they the Cubeo
studied b y Irving G oldm an (1963)?
22. See, in particular, Hill 1996.
23. T h is approach is in total agreement with Viveiros de C astro (1996:194) who
righ tly states:
1. The chonta palm (B a ctris gasipaes) season lasts from January to A pril; it is fo l
lowed by the season o f fat monkeys (yepenga tere) from June to A u gu st and
the season o f w ild cotton (bohueca tere) from Septem ber to October.
2. See Rival 1992, chap. 2, for additional transcripts o f Huaorani war narratives.
3. Seeger (1981:77) has sim ilarly remarked for the Suya o f M ato Grosso, Brazil,
that
4. T h e S IL m issionaries have translated “ hell” as tarom enga onguipo, that is, ‘the
land o fT a ro m e n g a .’
5. Even in their representation o f the peccary hunt, which is thought o f and car
ried out as a w a r expedition, the H uaorani see themselves not as proactive
hunters but as defenders o f their longhouse territories unpredictably invad
ed b y the ferocious beasts (Rival 1996b).
6. A fuller version and analysis o f this myth can be found in Rival 1997b.
7. Informants class anim als into two broad categories: the killers (who eat their
prey) and their gam e, or food. The first category, in addition to h arpy eagles
and jaguars, includes the river otter (om pure), and a number o f fish and birds
that eat fish. S o m e inform ants also include snakes in this category. T h e sec
ond category includes all the species that are preyed on. Birds fall into two
further classifications: birds o f prey that eat raw flesh and birds that consum e
fruit, the rotten-flesh-eating condor being an exception.
8. The leader o f a k illin g raid is aro qu a n gu i an ga tenonte huegarai n im b a ‘the
one who says to kill, as a result they die’ , and a declaration o f war is p it in te
h uen acaim ba ‘th eir becom ing angry resulted in making others d ie.’ G reat
warriors (g u errillero s , as young Huaorani n o w say in Spanish) are m ono h u e-
m eiri in g a tim b a ongu iy'e n an gu i tenonte o n te h u egarain im pa ‘our past m ale rel
atives w ho spear-killed many, an expression that stresses the act o f killin g
rather than valour, courage, or glory.
9. M oipa, a fierce w arrio r who killed m any H uaorani and non-H uaorani in the
1930s and 19 40 s, has become such a cultural hero. Interestingly, w hereas
Huaorani stories stress the process o f transform ation through w h ich he be
came less and less H uaorani and more and m ore a wild killer, less an d less kin
3- H uaorani Nomadic Isolationism 195
and more and m ore other, Canelo Q u ich u a sham ans from Sarayacu, w ho
have about as m an y stories on M oipa as the H uaorani have, represent him
as a man turned jaguar, which they see as the essence o f Huaoraniness
(JorgeTrujillo, personal com m unication). T h is representation is not entirely
wrong, but it essentializes what in fact is a tem porary state, as the follow ing
remark by an old w arrior illustrates: “ W h en I am angry, I am like a jaguar. I
can go on m y ow n and live alone in the forest, like a jaguar. I can go dow n to
the Curaray. N o t even the jaguar can threaten me or harm me, for I am so
angry.”
10. Spears, which are m ade for one kill, are h igh ly individualized. D ecoration
patterns and the shape o f notches are distinctive markers by which owners
can unam biguously be identified. In an earlier publication (Rival 1996b), I
argued that spearing was a technology o f exclusion designed to slaughter sav
agely those w ith w h om alliances were im possible.
11. I was told o f on e case in which a m ature w o m an , w ho had been speared to
death by the enem y, was buried with her granddaughter, so as “not to let the
grandmother die alon e.” See Rival 19 92:6 9—7 0 , for additional accounts o f
children buried alive w ith their dying parents or grandparents.
Interestingly, the ritual burying by w o m en o f a d ying brother or husband
with his child m ay be compared to the birth m yth in which the roles are re
versed: M en kill their wives to give birth to their children, whom the men
nurse and raise on their own (Rival 1998c). A m o n g the Wari, the identifica
tion between the killer (see Vila^a 2 0 0 0 :10 3) and the dead enemy occurs by
means o f figurative cannibalism , where the killer incorporated and digested
the blood o f his victim , who thereby becam e his consanguine kin.
12. Upon death, the onohuoca ‘body soul’ in the sense o f guim a ‘life force or
breath’ leaves the speared body to return to its birth place. The onohuoca, also
called ‘spirit so u l’ , o f a dead person travels to heaven, which is located north
o f the river N ap o . O n ly i f the deceased inserted a splinter o f chonta palm in
one o f the nostrils w ill she or he be able to pass over the giant snake w orm
who bars the en try to heaven. The spirit soul otherwise returns to H uaorani
land, where it is eaten b y termites.
13. For a particularly poignan t rendering, see C lastres 1972, chap. 6.
14. A dead person is referred to by his or her last pu blic personal name, follow ed
by the suffix -h u o ri (literally ‘is no longer alive’). For example, after the old
Coba died, people referred to him as C o b a h u o ri. It is under this nam e that
he was rem em bered for his idosyncratic w ays o f singing, dancing, m aking
spears, and so forth . Such ways could then be talked about and im itated.
Neither a cultural hero (someone w ho died so long ago that all particular
ip6 3. Huaorani Nom adic Isolationism
Guiqueta was livin g in the upper T ih u eno at the time. M oipa was invited to
his eeme [‘m an ioc-drinking cerem ony’] a lo n g w ith N ihua and others. T h e y
entered the feasthouse chanting. N ih u a go t an gry because two w o m en in his
group had been killed by Guiqueta, but he nevertheless said: “ We w an t to ex
change our children w ith you, so we can live w ell, in peace, and pu t an end
to the times o f w ar.” T h e eeme w ent on, people chanted and chanted, but
everybody was afraid. Suddenly, a man caugh t his spears, and the elders slew
the two brothers, M o ip a and Iteca. Q u ite a num ber o f people died du ring
that eeme.
maintains ties between agnates (R. R o sald o 19 80 :137). Sim ilarly A rcan d
(I973:I5I) discusses the link between C u iv a postm arital residence, band soli
darity, the drive to avenge the death o f a brother, and the belief that all deaths
are the result o f cursing.
24. B y contrast, the B u id , who, in m any oth er aspects, are socially sim ilar to the
Huaorani, consider violence and aggression absolutely illegitimate w ithin
their own society. Speech and com m unal peace represent life and u nity just
as eating (a one-w ay relationship o f d om in ation incom patible w ith m u tu al
ity) and individual desire represent death and division (Gibson 1986:73—75).
1. Sim ilarly the C u iv a do not differentiate the techniques they use fo r ob tain
ing food. For them , food production is h eita (literally ‘get food’), a term they
use to refer to the hu nting o f large anim als as w ell as to the collecting o f sm all
fruit (Arcand 1973:51).
2. For a full account o f fieldwork circum stances, see Rival 1992:2—11, or, alter
natively, 1996c, chap. 1).
3. T his is an allusion to the countless raids an d counter-raids waged b y the N i-
huairi’s grandparents and great-grandparents against riverine Z ap aroan .
groups.
4. Lu’s (1999:104—13) findings that 65.2 percent o f hunts practiced in Q uehueire
O no in 1997, that is, eight years after m y field observations reported here, in
dicate that by then Quehueire O no villagers w ere m ore settled and hunters
behaved as they had when living in D a y u n o .
5. There were thirteen house groups, totalin g forty-five adults and fifty-eight
children in the first Quehueire O no cam p. M y sam ple com prises data on
nine o f the thirteen house groups and excludes the m onitoring o f children’s
hunting, fishing, and gathering activities. T h e m onitoring o f gathering ac
tivities was restricted to fruit (food collecting) and palm leaves and bam boo
(materials collecting). Extractive activities w ere m onitored on tw enty days
over a two-m onth period (November—D e cem b e r 1989) during the “season o f
wild cotton.”
6. These quantitative data entirely support the findings and conclusions o f
M ena Valenzuela et al. (1997), who m on itored hu ntin g activities in Q u e
hueire O no five years after I did, as w ell as C e ró n and M ontalvo’s (1997:
280—81) remark that palms were less ab u n d an t than expected in the one
hectare prim ary forest survey plot they stu d ied , ow ing to the H u ao ran i’s
ip8 4. Harvesting the Forest’s Natural Abundance
intensive use o f palm leaves and stem s as building materials. T h e y are also in
agreem ent w ith Lu’s (1999) study w h ich shows that primates and C racid birds,
the H uaorani s favored game, are the m ost vulnerable to overexploitation.
7. B a ctrisg a sip a es was formally know n as G ulielm agasipaes. In C o lo m b ia , Peru,
Venezuela, and Brazil, it is co m m o n ly known as p u p u n h a .
8. See R ival 1996b for an extensive discussion o f Huaorani hun ting.
9. T h e M a k ú , for whom a large prop ortion o f the animals that are considered
gam e are birds and monkeys, say that these animals, w hich represent 60 per
cent o f the M a k ú ’s average kills, are the most plentiful in the forest (Silver-
w o o d -C o p e 1972:91). A notable difference between the M a k ú and the H uao
rani is that the M akú trade large quantities o f hunted m eat~(40.i percent)
w ith river Indians (Silverw ood-C ope 1972:96).
10. In the long-established villages fo u n d in the old Protectorate, the forest is no
longer rich in game within a d ay’s travel (or more) o f the villages. People ex
plain this not b y saying that th ey have hunted animals to an extreme but,
rather, that the animals have fled and found refuge elsewhere in the forest.
11. H e adds that life and vitality on an individual level are exchanged for renew
al and essential continuity on the categorical level (e.g., clan, species, etc.).
“ T h is . . . is the M akuna p h ilosop h y o f life: predation, reconstrued as ex
change, explains death and accounts for the regeneration o f life” (Arhem
19 96:189 ). Im plied in this view, A rh em concludes, “ is a w h o lly interactive, in
terconnected and interdependent cosm ic society: hum an beings depend for
their physical survival on fish and gam e animals (and plant food). But fish
and gam e animals also depend on hum an ritual and sh am an ic practice for
their reproduction” (Arhem 1996:198).
12. T h e term for shaman, m enerà , m ay derive etymologically from m iñ e ‘jaguar’
and b a ra ‘m other.’ Although no particular case was cited to m e, informants
said that w om en, too, could becom e m enerà.
13. I o n ly kn ow o f boys who have received such treatment, b ut this does not ex
clu d e the possibility that girls m ay receive it as well.
14. M iñ e ‘jagu ar’ and m ih i ‘ayahuasca’ are morphologically related to m ii ‘raw.’
See also chapter 2 n. 21.
15. O n ly in the Yasuni, I was told b y som e informants, are there om ere ‘pristine
forests’ w ith really high and old trees. Other informants th in k that some for
est areas in the Western part o f H uaorani land, including those in the old Pro
tectorate, are also om ere, w h ich accords with Cerón and M ontalvo’s (1997)
study. U nless natural or m an-m ade gaps are found, cu ltivated plots are sel
d o m located in primary, m ature forests because o f the d ifficu lty o f felling
large trees.
4 • H arvesting the Forest’s Natural Abundance 199
16. In a sim ilar vein Balee (1988) m entions that Guaja foraging bands camp in
babassu (O rbignya phalerata ch.) forest enclaves, where it is possible to find
vestiges o f previous settlements and horticultural fields left b y the Ka’apor.
H e goes on to remark that m an y Tupi Guarani marginal bands depend heav
ily on babassu for leaves (with w h ich they make roofs), fru it (which are rich
in carbohydrates and proteins), and rotting trunks (in w hich they find edible
grubs).
17. See, fo r exam ple, Irvine 1987, 1989.
18. See D iam o n d 1998:114—30, 434—39, for a summ ary o f current scholarship on
the origin and domestication o f cultivated plants.
19. H u ao ran i chonta celebrations m ay be compared to Shuar celebrations o f
U w i, the chonta palm spirit. Pelizzaro (1983) mentions anent ‘chants’ in
w h ich it is said that all anim als relishing the chonta palm fruit will, like
the palm itself, benefit from abundant life force and that U w i fosters the
m atrim onial link between m an and wom an, which is the origin o f new life
(l37)-
20. Sin ce this publication I have fou n d a Shuar anent that says: “ M y dear chon
ta palm s have grown slowly, very slow ly they have developed; in the same way
m y children have slowly grown” (Pelizzaro 1983:94).
21. Plantain and banana plantations are used very much like chonta palm groves.
T h is concords with Bergman (1980:98, 128), who notes that these food crops
are m uch less labor-intensive than m anioc and produce about four times as
m an y kilocalories per m an-hour, w ith the added advantage that plantations
con tin u e to produce for decades. A s for maize, it grows in about three
m onths, that is, even faster than m anioc. T h e seeds are thrown straight onto
the freshly cut forest vegetation, and the harvest is consum ed almost in one
go, ve ry m uch like forest fruit harvested from one tree.
22. See, am o n g others, W hitten 1985; C . Hugh-Jones 1979; D escola 1994; and
G riffith s 1998.
23. See, fo r instance, Griffiths 2001.
24. T o cite ju st a few, see C rocker 19 8 5:4 5,117 ; Descola 1992:118; Bloch and Parry
1982:8.
25. C o n seq u en tly there is no notion here o f dead bodies contributing to soil fer
tility, nor is there an opposition between cemeteries and garden sites (A.
Strathern 1982:118). Such a system can also be contrasted to the Southeast
A sian head-hunting complex in w h ich the snatching and incorporation o f an
enem y’s vitality is not only necessary for securing male individual fertility but
also life in nature, as discussed by R. Rosaldo (1980) and M Zim balist Rosal-
do (1980), and as so vividly observed by Barton (1930:185—86):
200 4 - Harvesting the Forest’s Natural Abundance
5. C o m in g B ac k to the L o n g h o u se
1. In a letter he wrote to me in D ecem ber 1990, Jim Yost, w ho in his articles had
equated the emic form “X -iri” w ith the analytical construct “ neighborhood
cluster,” told me how he was still m ystified b y the highly sh iftin g and relative
character o f this notion. A lthough in som e contexts “X -iri” is the equivalent
of “ band,” in others it refers to each separate nuclear fam ily unit, for exam
ple, Cuhueiri, Nameiri, O catairi, and so forth. Furtherm ore, he observed
that men would tend to use the father/husband’s name (for exam ple, Cuhue
would say Nameiri), whereas w o m en w ould tend to use the mother/wife’s
name (for example, Huane w ould say Zhiroiri). In addition, the name cho
sen to stand for the “X ” in “ X -iri” is determined by the relationship the
speaker has with a particular m em ber o f the group in question, often picking
the name o f the person in the closest line o f com m on ancestry to the speak
er. Finally, “X -iri” is never used self-referentially, either b y “ X ” h im self or her
5- Corning Back to the Longhouse 201
self or b y his or her group. As the term “ X -iri” covers all levels o f social grou p
ings, he concluded, it is best translated as “social group.”
T h is discussion may be correlated w ith Lizot’s judicious com m en t that a
com m unity is a name that integrates its m em bers (Lizot 1984:42): “ U ne com
m unauté, c’est un nom qui intègre ses m em bres.”
2. There were a few baby sloths as w ell, although sloths are never hunted, their
meat being taboo. Children, w h o are taught to differentiate sloths from
m onkeys, are seriously harangued i f caught hunting or eating them .
3. Arhem (1996:190) mentions that the M aku n a sim ilarly describe anim als as
living like hum ans in longhousfcs (m alocas).
4. C hristopher Crocker’s (1985) discussion o f organic processes linked to com
mon residence as producing intense hum an relations am ong the B oro ro was
an early and particularly influential analysis o f the social com m on ality I ex
plore here.
5. See Ja u lin ’s (1977:291) discerning rem ark that the essential life unit is that cir
cum scribed by the act o f residing (“ l’unité de vie essentielle est celle circon-
crite par l’acte de résidence” ).
6. See W att (1996) for a particularly insigh tful study o f m odern individualism .
7. T h e term huentey has been translated erroneously as “ lazy” b y schoolteachers
and m issionaries.
8. See L im a (1999:14) for the description o f a social tem peram ent devoid o f hos
tility and fear am ong the Juru na, w h ich is very close to the H uaorani notion
o f huentey serenity, trust, and tranquility.
9. For a m ore extensive treatment o f this p oint, see Rival I998f. For a contrastive
cultural construction o f work e ffo rt and com m unity b u ild in g am ong the
Uitoto o f lowland Colom bia, see G riffith s 2001.
10. Yost (i98ib:99) mentions that the m ost senior male has his ham m ock hung
by the front entrance o f the longhouse. H is wife’s brother attaches his ham
m ock at the opposite end o f the house, near the other entrance.
it. G iven the prevalence o f sharing on d em and within H uaorani d om estic units,
there is no reciprocal exchange o f m eat for sex in this society, as is said to be
the case in other parts o f Am azonia (see R ival, Slater, and M iller 1998).
12. See also Peterson 1993, m entioned above, and Bird-D avid 19 9 0 :19 1, w h o uses
the term m utual taking and m entions the N ayaka’s constant requests to be
given. B ird -D avid further notes that dem and sharing is a system o f exchange
that erases the past and forecloses the future, given that w hat happened in the
past is irrelevant to the exchange tak in g place in the present.
13. See also G ibson 1988.
14. C ollier and Rosaldo’s (1981) bride service m odel cannot explain the w orkings
202 S- Coming Back to the Longhouse
o f Huaorani conjugal com plem entarity nor its paradoxical existence w ithin
an econom y characterized b y general sharing. From whatever angle one
looks at Huaorani m arriage, one does not find an organization o f needs and
claims leading to the restricted access to forms o f property. Women are not
men’s property, spouses do not belong to each other, and parents do not own
children. Huaorani m arriage is a central institution that structures the p olit
ical economy, but it does not correlate with social stratification and social h i
erarchy. M y purpose here is not to review this m odel, w hich numerous schol
ars have already com m ented on, amended, and criticized, particularly K elly
1993-
15. The section on hom osexuality in Robarcheck and R obarcheck (1998:56—57)
is not only entirely spurious and devoid o f truth, but it is also an insult to,
and a danger for, the H u aorani population. T h eir com m ents, such as “sex be
tween male cross-cousins was also common” or “the acceptability o f sexual
attraction between m en ,” betray a complete lack o f anthropological insight
(male cross-cousins m ay h u g and kiss, but the idea o f engaging in penetrative
sex is as alien and h orrifyin g to them as it is to a conscientious Christian fu n
damentalist). Given the high incidence o f tourism in Huaorani land, R o
barcheck and Robarcheck’s serious ethnocentric confusion between sex and
sensuality m ay have extrem ely nefarious consequences for the welfare o f
Huaorani men, w om en, and children.
16. Although the idea o f shared substance as a form o f consubstantiality is found
in varying degrees in m an y cultures, in Amazonia it has given rise to unique
forms o f sociality. R o b erto da M atta (1982) was the first anthropologist to
stress the im portance o f “substance relationships” in native Amazonia and to
discuss the concom itant b e lie f that parents influence the physical appearance
and health o f their children according to the foods the parents eat or avoid.
See also Rival 1998c; G u ss 1989; and Overing 1993:55. In som e Amazonian so
cieties, such as those described by G ow (1989) and G riffiths (1998), people
become physically o f on e kind through work, not b y living together.
17. Generalizing from Barasana ethnography, Stephen H ugh-Jones (1993; 1995)
concludes that the A m azon ian house is conceptualized as continuous w ith
the human body; it is like a living organism im bued w ith animate properties.
18. For Terry Turner, bodiliness solves the contradiction between the individual
and society in A m azonia, where “subjectivity and agency m ay rather be rep
resented as they are am o n g the Kayapo as dividual rather than individual,
and as embodied in discrete bodily processes and m odes o f activity rather
than as attributes o f a disem bodied and integral Cartesian ego” (Turner
1995:166). Said differently, the subject becomes subject not by producing o b
5- Coming Back to the Longhouse 203
27. T his connection is further elaborated in a popular m yth that recounts the
story o f an old woman abandoned b y her sons because she is too old to walk
to the new house site. She is saved from starvation and death b y her first-born
son who rejuvenates her and brings her abundant supplies o f ripe plantain
and game (Rival 1992:68—69).
28. It is significant that whereas there is a myth about son and m other (express
ing the son’s anxiety about leaving his mother with no food) and a puberty
ritual involving father and daughter, there is no m yth regarding the father-
' son relationship (but the sun sends his son to the H uaorani to teach them
how to make hard wood spears and to give them stone axes) and no ritual in
volving mother and daughter.
29. See Taylor 2000:313—19, for a sim ilar occurrence am o n g the Jivaro but with
very different structural consequences, given the patrilocal nature o f these
societies. See Guss 1989:81—83, w h o describes how Yekw ana boys are social
ized to shift alliance from birth group to marriage grou p, in contrast with
girls for whom such separation does not generally occur.
30. Collier and Rosaldo’s (1981) argum ent that uxorilocality expresses a hus
band’s indebtedness to his in-law s and that marriage arrangem ents reveal the
symbolic, economic, and political processes sustaining gender differences
does not apply in this context. See C rocker’s (1984:67) remark that the
Canela husband becomes “ em bedded in the female m atrix o f domestic life
held strongly in place through uxorilocal residence.” See Turner 1979 and Lea
2001 for conflicting interpretations o f Kayapo uxorilocality.
31. In a similar vein, the prim ary m otivation fo rT u p in am b a warfare, according
to Viveiros de Castro (199 2:297, 375), is to overcom e uxorilocality, which is
lived as a servitude by in -m arryin g men.
32. M arrying someone from on e’s longhouse w ould be tantam ount to brother-
sister incest, as codified in the well-know n m yth about an incestuous broth
er who became the m oon. T h e m yth, com m on th rough ou t Amazonia, m ay
be summarized as follows: A brother and a sister, w h o have always been very
close, sleep in the same h am m ock. In his sleep, the brother turns into a m os
quito and unwillingly penetrates his sister’s m outh. Sh e is awakened by the
tickling and soon realizes w ith horror that her brother has “annoyed” her
(this is a euphemism for sexual intercourse). In som e versions, the you ng
m an, mortified and terribly asham ed, asks his yo u n ger brother to use a blow
pipe to propel him to heaven. In other versions, the yo u n ger brother, enraged
by his sibling’s m isdem eanor, decides to punish his o ld er brother by sending
him to heaven. T h e incestuous brother becomes the m oon. T h e younger
brother and his sister becom e close allies. T h e ir m other, chagrined by her
5- Corning Back to the Longhouse 20$
son’s absence, watches the m oon every night. She is heartbroken by the ir
reparable distance: Her son w ill never return.
33. A sim ilar situation was observed by Viveiros de C astro am ong the Arawete:
“ It is not the brother-in-law but rather the sister w h o cedes a daughter to ego
or his son” (1992:162). W h ile acknowledging the cen trality o f the brother-sis
ter relationship in Am azonian social life, reflected in the Araw ete’s preferred
m arriage arrangement between a brother and a sister exchanging their chil
dren in marriage, Viveiros de Castro maintains that such m arital alliances are
ordered by cross-consanguinity rather than by affinity. W h at is intended, he
concludes, “ is an ideal o f endogam y within the kind red ” (162); in other
w ords, a short cycle o f reciprocal exchange. W hereas I agree w ith the latter
statem ent, I would stress that, at least in the H uaorani context, such alliances
are affinal and that it is not im m ediacy that people seek but rather balance
and symmetry. Whereas, according to Viveros de C astro , true affinity (i.e.,
unconsanguinizable affinity) occurs between a m ale A raw ete and a M-a'i god
(i.e., a man who has becom e superhum an through death), it is between fe
m ale cross-cousins that true affinity exists am ong the H uaorani.
34. See Dreyfus 1993 for useful sum m aries o f the debate, V iveiro s de Castro and
Fausto 1993 and Rivière 1993 for alternative explanations, and H enley 1996
fo r a m ore recent overview.
35. Pets fix people to their longhouses m ore than children do and are considered
to be more dem anding than children. Whereas children grow and fend for
themselves, pets are utterly dependent and need to be fed throughout their
lives. W omen suckle baby m onkeys and feed fledglings w ith m ashed bananas
m ixed in breast milk. Certain varieties o f fruit such as sm all, scented bananas
are brought home especially to feed pets, which are generally treated with
care and affection. People would go hungry rather than deprive their pets o f
foo d, and children who eat the food reserved for pets are sternly scolded. T h e
m ost demanding pet in terms o f feeding is the h arpy eagle, which does not
live inside the house but is attached on a platform outside the main entrance,
w here it is fed freshly hunted monkeys.
36. Seeger (1981:169—71) discusses the ways the Suya deal w ith old age as a form
o f reversal from autonom y to dependency. O ld people undergo a rite o f pas
sage b y which they acquire a new status corresponding to the cultural idea
that aging is a transformation to a lesser social state.
37. T h is cultural representation o f the old wom an left to die in the decrepit long
house stands in remarkable contrast to that found in the Jivaro culture, in
w h ich the house is abandoned when its owner, a dead great warrior, dies. T h e
corpse— armed, painted, and adorned with feathers— is tied to the central
206 5. Coming Back to the Longhouse
pole o f the lon gh ou se (Descola 1994, chap. 4). Death, far from being de
struction or an n ih ilation , is a change o f state and function. At the heart o f
the shamanic co m p lex, the soul, from an invisible state, becomes fu n ctio n al
ly transcendental, w h ile acquiring the potential power to interfere w ith the
living. H uaorani dead are more like the B o ro ro o f whom Crocker (1985:270)
says: “ T h e souls o f the dead soon cease to have any interest in the affairs o f
the living.”
38. Roosevelt (19 9 1:4 0 4 ), w ho mentions that M arajoara villages were also cem e
teries, contends, against previous analyses, that burial sites were contin uou s
ly occupied.
throwing their spears on it. Those who did not throw with sufficient strength
were penalized.
10. See, for example, G oldm an 1963:215—17.
11. The old Dete told me that guests who had com e from far away were allow ed
to sleep in a ham m ock provided by a kinsm an or a friend but that no
one from the hosting nanicabo could. T h o se w h o were falling asleep were
immediately bathed in manioc drink, poked, tickled, and made to stand up
again.
12. For a study o f gender difference experienced as a ritual difference, see also
Atkinson and Errington 1990, but especially Kuipers 1990:154.
13. See Reichel-Dolm atoff 1971 and Roe 1982, w h o mention in passing the asso
ciation between fruiting and a fecund sexual union, and who both d em o n
strate the symbolic importance o f sex and b o d y in Northwest Am azon repre
sentations o f the connections between cosm os and society.
14. The ear-piercing cerem ony is briefly described in Rival 19933:640.
15. I have never heard o f a mother running o f f w ith her son; uxorilocality gives
mothers definite rights over the choice o f in-m arrying men.
16. Tona, the first Huaorani evangelical m issionary, was killed by the H uepeiri
because, after having stayed several m onths preaching among them , he had
refused to marry one o f their women, insisting that he was already m arried in
Till uè no and that G o d wanted men to be m onogam ous (C. Peeke, Ja n u a ry
1990, personal com m unication).
17. See also Yost 1981:104.
18. Yost (i98ib:i05), w ho grants parents w ith m ore power in arranging m arriages
than 1 do, notes that couples who have a son and a daughter ready to m arry
are in a good bargaining position vis-à-vis those w ho need spouses, p articu
larly if one nanicabo has no other alternative available.
19. See also Kensinger 1984:254.
20. See chapter 3 for a discussion o f bellicose m en whose kin have been killed in
warfare or raids m ounted by cohuori. A n interesting parallel m ay be drawn
with some African systems, in which “patrilocality owes its im portance to
virilocal marriage, and it is this form o f m arriage that enables uterine broth
ers to reside together. I f marriages were uxorilocal, uterine brothers w o u ld be
dispersed through the villages o f their w ives” (Turner 1967:6).
21. A brief survey o f marriage patterns in five H uaorani settlements gives the fol
lowing results. In three out o f five settlem ents there were no interethnic mar
riages with Q uichua (o percent o f all alliances). In the fourth settlem ent, in
terethnic marriages with Q uichua represented 15.38 percent o f the total,
compared to 23.07 percent double cross-cousin marriages and 19.23 percent
6. Eëmë Festivals 209
1. The verb a means “say," “w an t,” and “wish” all at once, so that the literal
translation could in fact be “do not want/wish/say” !
2. As Jackson (1995:320) accurately observes in the C o lo m b ian context, non-
indigenous models that are w orlds aw ay from traditional indigenous ways o f
organizing politically and m aintain ing cultural forms have been increasingly
used throughout the 1980s and 1990s for the preservation o f indigenous cul
tures and histories.
3. The advance o f oil prospecting and the S IL missionary w o rk resulted in the
concentration o f 80 percent o f the population on less than 10 percent o f
the traditional Huaorani territory. A t the time o f m y doctoral fieldwork, the
Huaorani numbered 1,250, w ith 55 percent o f the population under sixteen
years o f age. Two percent o f the population was still uncontacted and lived in
hiding.
4. By 1981, 20 percent o f the p opulation in the Protectorate could read the S IL
translation o f the Gospel A ccording to M ark (Rival 1992:15).
5. For a fuller account, see Rival 1992:323—48.
6. Incidentally, the contrast between modern and traditional also corresponds
to the general opposition between “ upstream groups” (irum enga) and “down
stream groups” (enomenga).
7. See, am ong others, W hitten 1985 and Reeve 1993 for a discussion o f the
Q uichua opposition between “savage” (auca) and “civilized” (a lii), and Jack
son 1983 for theTukano dual classification o f “subhuman” and “truly human”
groups. Fausto (1998) has fou n d a similar form o f dualism am ong the
Parakana.
8. Christianized Huaorani believe that G o d is a powerful father who has de
stroyed death and has given the dead new bodies so they can live in his house
in heaven: “ The old bodies w ill be discarded as old fishing nets, and they’ll
receive new bodies when Jesus com es to call them” (W allis 19 71:4 1).
9. Cartilla p ik en a n i ateyehuem onte eñenkin I and II realized b y B ay Carlos A l
varado, Luis Montaluisa, A h u a Ñ ih u a, and Consuelo Yanez. IL L - C E IE 1984.
Q uito: M E C y P U C E .
10. For a m ore extensive description o f school routines, see R ival 1992, 1996a,
and 1996c.
11. See, for instance, Turner 1995, E rikson 1996, and V iveiros de C astro 1998b.
12. Daniel Rogers, an evangelical m issionary based in Shell M era, had a large
house built across from the airport, for exactly the sam e purpose o f exposing
the H uaorani to civilized dom esticity. T h e house, an exact replica o f a North
8. Prey at the Center 2 11
A m erican wooden lodge, was designed to provide the Indians w ith a domes
tic environm ent propitious for the acquisition o f urban and civil behavior. It
had a livin g room filled with shelved books and old issues o f the N ational
G eographic, a large television and video cassette recorder (V C R ), and several
couches crowding around an im po sin g fireplace. Posters o f w inter scenes in
various parts o f the United States and Canada ornamented the walls.
13. In an interesting parallel exam ple, H ugh-Jones (1992), w h o analyzes trade re
lations between drug barons and Barasana Indians, argues that the Barasana’s
desire for Western goods is a desire for social relations w ith the whites—
rather than for the goods them selves. H e concludes that the value o f manu
factured goods lies in the context in w hich they are acquired, in the people
from w h om they derive, and in the very act o f acquiring them.
14. T h e foraging o f oil camps, the su p p ly o f food to villages, and the determina
tion to secure exclusive access rights to sources o f wealth are all strategies that
have becom e difficult to m aintain in the present exploitation phase.
15. T h e practice is similar with Sh u ar and Q ichua neighbors or Ecuadorian oil
engineers to whom they are bo u n d b y compadrazgo ritual ties. In chapter 7 o f
m y doctoral thesis (Rival 1992), I exam ine further instances o f Huaorani de
nials o f trade and reciprocity, an d particular instances in which interethnic
contact is manipulated in such a w a y that non-H uaorani are forced to give
unilaterally to Huaorani.
16. A sim ilar w ork ethic exists am o n g the U itoto who stress that one must"work
hard to m ove closer toward a lived approxim ation o f the good life, and by so
d oing m aintain an acceptable level o f health and well-being in the fam ily and
settlem ent group (Griffiths 19 9 8 :19 0 —209; 2001).
17. C o n o n aco trekkers, who have not been schooled and do not share the Pro
tectorate villagers’ mystique, wa-nder naked and unself-conscious through
abandoned modern buildings, such as the camps left by oil companies.
8. P re y a t th e C en te r
1. Lévi-Strauss (1995) has vivid ly revisited this thesis in his prologue to his pho
tographic memoir. See T aylor 1988:182, for an interesting remark on Lévi-
Strauss’s concept o f devolution as the inevitable outcom e o f the destructive
tem poral flux o f history, w hich he characterizes as “a perpetual risk” and a
“form id able entropic process” w h ose m otion inevitably erodes structures and
tarnishes beginnings.
2. See also Sellato’s (1994:1771^.) contrast between the Punan’s stewardship and
212 8. Prey at the Center
indirect m anagem ent o f wild sago palm s and the farm ing practices o f long
time B orneo farmers, who plant and cultivate the palm on a large scale.
3. For sim ilar findings among the Parakana, see Fausto 1998.
4. The B uid o f the Philippine H igh lands have similarly adopted m obility and
sharing as m utually reinforcing institutions to evade con tro l by powerful
neighbors w h om they cannot resist m ilitarily (Gibson 19 9 0 :14 1). G ibson fur
ther remarks that autonomous groups in the region have su rvived thanks to
ideologies that reject any form o f dom inance; those w h o h ave failed to de
velop appropriate ideologies were either absorbed into aggressive state sys
tems or elim inated. He goes on to com pare the interactions o f three societies
(the B uid , the Ilongot, and the Iban) w ith autonomous ideologies and value
systems in the com m on regional econom y, without either red u cing their ide
ologies to epiphenom ena o f the w id er system or ignoring the real effects on
them o f com m od ity relations and m ilitary force (Gibson 19 9 0 :14 2 —43).
5. Pierre Ja u lin (1977:3) explains that relations o f existence, w h ic h com bine in
dissociable relations between m en and relations between m en and the world,
pertain to the domestic domain o f dw elling and shared consum ption:
J ’avais découvert qu’une civilisation est bien autre chose q u e les objets qu’elle
accumule, fussent-ils des objets de pensée, des connaisances empaquetées. Je
voyais que la qualité de vivre est une fin, que cette fin n’est pas une invention
individuelle, mais le fruit d’un ordre collectif, la donnée d ’ une alliance avec
le m onde, alliance dont le prem ier tem ps est l’alliance des h om m es entre eux,
le jeu des relations les plus concrètes, c’est-à-dire.celles qu i impartissent l’e
space, nous font résider, consom m er, produire, jouir, inventer.
I had discovered that a civilization is m uch more than the objects it accu
mulates, even when these are th ou gh t objects or packaged knowledge. I had
com e to realize that quality o f life w as an end in itself, that this aim , far from
being an individual invention, w as the fruit o f a collective order, the result o f
an alliance w ith the world, an alliance that starts with th e entente o f men
am ong themselves, the interplay o f the m ost concrete relations such as those
assigned to space, and that m ake us reside, produce, rejoice, and invent.
6. Such a w orldview is diam etrically opposed to the M aussian view that gods
and the dead are the real owners o f the w orld’s wealth (G rego ry 1980) and
that the living are indebted to those in authority for the gift o f fertility,
health, and wealth (Bloch and Parry 1982).
7. Ju d gin g from the oral narratives I collected in the field, w o m en were able to
move ou t o f Huaorani land m ore easily than men. W om en resorted to this
extrem e and desperate measure w hen internal warfare endangered their lives
8. Prey at the Center 21$
to the point where the prospect o f m arryin g outside their tribe appeared less
horrifying. M en , however, had little chance o f being accepted in another
tribe w ithout being killed.
In an interesting parallel, the Y u ru p ari m yth com m on to all Tukanoan In
dians starts with the conflict resulting from female prim ogeniture in societies
where m en m ust initiate the exchange o f m arriage partners. In the m yth , two
sexually m ature sisters, whose you nger brother is too you ng to m arry, leave
their native longhouse and search fo r a husband themselves (R eich el-D ol-
m atoff 1995:198).
8. The cultural dimension o f social reproduction is a fundam ental issue that
unfortunately has been entirely overlooked by G ordon and Sho lto D ouglas
(2000) in their account o f the B ush m an myth.
9. For a m ore extensive critique o f the social construction o f nature thesis, see
Rival 1998c and Rival, Slater, and M ille r 1998.
10. O nly Shuar and Q uichua shamans w h o have caused the death o f blood kin
and affines are called “cannibals,” and at least two o f them have been killed
in recent years.
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Verswijver, G ., 16—17
Fausto, C ., 18, 66, 184
Vickers, W ., 7, 8—9
Ferguson, B., 18
Viveiros de Castro, E ., 53,112, 1932223,
2002228, 2042231, 2052233
G ross, D ., 7—8, 15, 16
W hitten, N ., xiii
H enley, P., 112, 126—27, !4 4
W oodburn, ] ., 99, 105, 2002226
H ill, J ., 44, 179
H ill, K „ 6, 14
Yost, J ., 200221, 2032220, 2082218
In gold , T., 68
Su b jects
K en t, S., 18—19
A bigiras, 23, 31, 33, 35, 40, 41
Lathrap, D ., 14, 15, 21 A bundance o f forest resources, 75—83,
Lea, V., 16, 17 177 ; artificial creation of, 176; cele
Lévi-Strauss, C ., 5, 14, 15, 16 , 17 , 20, bration of, 14 7
2II2 2 I Aché, 2, 7 , 14
Affinity: and otherness, 60; and con
M auss, M .,'17 sanguinity, 113, 118, 149; potential,
M aybury-Lew is, D ., 2, 15, 17 125, 136 , 17 6
M eggers, B ., 5, 6, 7 Agnatic ties, 124
A gricultural regression, xiii, 4, 179; and
N eed h am , R., 17 cultural devolution, xix, 5 ,12 , 13, 20,
N ew son, N ., 23, 32 178; and trekking, xx; critique o f the
Rivet, P., 41 thesis of, 179 —80, 182
240 Index
O il companies, x vi, 38, 39, 43, 75, 77, Q u eh u eire O no , 69, 95—98, 115, 121
144, 167, 168—70 ; M axus, xvi Q u ijo s, 23, 27, 30
O il industry: im pact on Huaorani, xvi,
xx, 38; in Ecuador, xvi Reciprocity, 78, 142
O ld age, 127—28 R efugees, 125, 127, 145
Omagua, 23—29, 40 Regeneration, xx, 184
Orphans, 57, 60 Relatedness, Huaorani conceptions of,
Organización de la N acionalidad 119
Huaorani de la A m azonia Ecuatori Residential groups, 62, 98; see also n an -
ana (O N H A E ), xvi, xix ic a b o (-in )
Other(s). See h u a R iver otter (Pteronura brasilien sis) , 70
R iv er turtles, 71
Palms, 11, 81 R u b b er boom , 22, 35—37, 45
Palm groves, xiv, 2, 84
Palm leaves, H uaorani use of, 71, 94, Schools: and bilingual education, 155;
136 and material wealth, 166—7 1; and
Panare, 126 m odernity, 155; and rural develop
Parakana, 18, 60, 18 1, 2 10 « 7 m ent, 155, 164, 168; and social
Peace, 18, 61, 62, 65, 157, 162 reproduction, 156; and trekking,
Peach palm. See C h o n ta palm 1 7 2 -7 4
Peccaries: collared ( Tayassu tajacü), 71, Sch o olin g: and decontextualization,
140; white-lipped ( T ajassu peccari), 156; state, xiv, xx, 152, 154; and vil
76, 7 7 ,13 7 ; h u n tin g of, 77 , 88—89 lage form ation, 174—75
244 Index
Xavante, 2 h u a p o n i, 129
Yagua, 86, 87 h u a rep o , 47
Yanomami, 18, 1967215, 206/23 h u eg o n g u i, 53
Yekuana, 2047229 h u en e, 49, 51, 2037224
Yurupari cult, 86, 213727 h u en tey , 1 0 1 ,1 3 1 , 201727
h u iñ a ta re , 52
Zaparos, 23, 30, 33- 37 - 38
iiv a . S ee H ow ler m onkey
H u ao ran i T e rm s
m e m e iri, 4 6, 93
A huene , 80, 95, 130—33, 206724, m eñ era , 79, 1987212
207728 m e n q u i, 2037222; see also C ro ss
A m o. See Peccaries, collared cousins
A m otam ini, 10 0 ; see also Chanting m ih i. S ee Ayahuasca
A paica, 47 772/7, 54
A ro bo q u i baon a n o b a in . See Substance m iin ta . See M acaw
sharing m im o , 79
m iñ e, 198/212; see also Jaguars
C ohuori, 52, 65, 66, 104
n a n ic a b o , n a n ic a b o iri, 104 , 13 1, 14 7 ; see
D a boca, 82 also Longhouse
D aguenca. See C h o n ta palm n an o on gu e. See Spouse
D aguenca tere, 47 n a n to ca . S ee M orete
D aicaho, 79
D eye. See M onkeys, spider orne. S ee Territory
D u be, 47 o m ere, 98/215
D u ra n i, 46, 49 om ere go bop a, 1; see also T rekking
o m p u re. See R iver otter
Eem e, 129—34 o n co, 94; see also Longhouse
o n o h u oca, 59, 195/212
G ata. See M onkeys, w oolly o n o n q u i, 12 1, 203/224
G u iri, g u irin a n i, 55, 104, 115, 185 oon ta. S ee curare
oto. S ee G ia n t anteater
hua, huaca, h u a ra n i, 55, 59, 62, 99, 104,
115, 129, 131, 142, 16 2, 185 p 'éené b iq u i. See Banana drink
huao, h u ao ran i, 41, 51 p eto h u e . See Ungurahua
huaom oni, 62, 97, 123, 126, 128, 129, p 'ti, p it in te , 4 7, 55—62, 66; and bereave
141, 142, 187 m ent, 59; and revenge, 59
246 Index
H I S T O R I C A L E C OL OG Y S E RI E S
William Balee and Carole L. Crumley, Editors
C O V E R D E S I G N B Y LSSA HA MM
C O V E R PH O TO GR APH PROVIDED S Y AU TH O R