Kayapo Ethnoecology and Culture (Studies in Environmental Anthropology)

Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture Darrell A. Posey died in March 2001 after a long and distinguished career in anthropol...

Author: Darrell A Posey

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Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture

Darrell A. Posey died in March 2001 after a long and distinguished career in anthropology and ecology. Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture presents a selection of his writings that result from 25 years of work with the Kayapó Indians, one of the Amazon Basin’s most famous indigenous peoples. The Kayapó originated from one village, Pyka-tô-ti, or the ‘Beautiful Village’. However the modern Kayapó live in several dozen villages scattered over nearly four million hectares that encompass a vast diversity of ecological systems linking the lowland Amazon Basin with the Planalto of central Brazil. These writings describe the dispersal of the Kayapó subgroups and explain how, with this diaspora, useful biological species and natural resource management strategies also spread. Detailed accounts of their permanent and nomadic agricultural systems, past and present, as well as of the regional ecology, provide a rich and essential record for future study and environmental management. However the Kayapó are threatened with extinction like many inhabitants of the Amazon Basin. The author is adamant that it is no longer satisfactory for scientists to just ‘do good science’. They are increasingly asked and morally obliged to become involved in political action to protect the peoples they study. In the Kayapó village of Gorotire [Darrell Posey] encountered a thriving and complex ancient tribal culture, whose rituals were intimately linked to the forest and the cosmos. His research became far more than a piece of academic fieldwork as he learnt the Kayapó language and came to know the Kayapó, not only as friends but as a people whose culture reflected a sophisticated understanding of the lands that support them. Darrell Posey’s Obituary, The Times, 31 March 2001

Studies in environmental anthropology Edited by Roy Ellen University of Kent at Canterbury, UK

This series is a vehicle for publishing up-to-date monographs on particular issues in particular places which are sensitive to both sociocultural and ecological factors. Emphasis will be placed on the perception of the environment, indigenous knowledge and the ethnography of environmental issues. While basically anthropological, the series will consider works from authors working in adjacent fields. Volume 1: A Place Against Time Land and Environment in Papua New Guinea Paul Sillitoe Volume 2: People, Land and Water in the Arab Middle East Environments and Landscapes in the Bilâd as-Shâm William Lancaster and Fidelity Lancaster Volume 3: Protecting the Arctic Indigenous Peoples and Cultural Survival Mark Nutall Volume 4: Transforming the Indonesian Uplands Marginality, Power and Production Edited by Tania Murray Li Volume 5: Indigenous Environmental Knowledge and its Transformations Critical Anthropological Perspectives Edited by Roy Ellen, Peter Parkes and Alan Bicker Volume 6: Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture Darrell A. Posey, edited by Kristina Plenderleith

Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture

Darrell A. Posey Edited by Kristina Plenderleith

London and New York

First published 2002 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2004. © 2002 Taylor & Francis Books Ltd All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Every effort has been made to contact copyright holders for their permission to reprint material in this book.The publishers would be grateful to hear from any copyright holder who is not here acknowledged and will undertake to rectify any errors or omissions in future editions of this book. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Posey, Darrell Addison Kayapó ethnoecology and culture / Darrell A. Posey; edited by Kristina Plenderleith. p. cm. – (Studies in environmental anthropology) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Cayapo Indians – Ethnobotany. 2. Cayapo Indians – Ethnobiology. 3. Cayapo Indians – Agriculture. 4. Indigenous peoples – Ecology – Brazil – Gorotire. 5. Gorotire (Brazil) – Social life and customs. 6. Gorotire (Brazil) – Environmental conditions. I. Plenderleith, Kristina II.Title. III Series. F2520.1.C45 P58 2002 630'.89'984–dc21 2001058583 ISBN 0-203-22019-6 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-27519-5 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0–415–27791–4 (Print Edition)

Contents

List of figures List of tables Preface Foreword Acknowledgements

viii x xii xiv xvii

PART I

Kayapó history and culture 1 The science of the M˜ebêngôkre

1 3

2 Contact before contact: typology of post-Colombian interaction with the Northern Kayapó of the Amazon

14

3 Environmental and social implications of pre- and post-contact situations on Brazilian Indians

25

4 Time, space, and the interface of divergent cultures: the Kayapó Indians of the Amazon face the future

33

5 The Kayapó origin of night

42

6 The journey to become a shaman: a narrative of sacred transition of the Kayapó Indians of Brazil

47

PART II

Ethnobiology and the Kayapó Project

53

7 Report from Gorotire: will Kayapó traditions survive?

55

8 Indigenous knowledge and development: an ideological bridge to the future

58

9 Wasps, warriors and fearless men: ethnoentomology of the Kayapó Indians of Central Brazil

82

vi

Contents

10 Hierarchy and utility in a folk biological taxonomic system: patterns in classification of arthropods by the Kayapó Indians of Brazil 11 Additional notes on the classification and knowledge of stingless bees (Meliponinae, Apidae, Hymenoptera) by the Kayapó Indians of Gorotire, Pará, Brazil

93

112

~ with JOAO MARIA FRANCO DE CAMARGO

12 Keeping of stingless bees by the Kayapó Indians of Brazil

134

13 Ethnopharmacological search for antiviral compounds: treatment of gastrointestinal disorders by Kayapó medical specialists

139

with ELAINE ELISABETSKY

14 Use of contraceptive and related plants by the Kayapó Indians (Brazil)

149

with ELAINE ELISABETSKY

PART III

Kayapó land management 15 Preliminary results on soil management techniques of the Kayapó Indians

163 165

with SUSANNA B. HECHT

16 Indigenous soil management in the Latin American tropics: some implications of ethnopedology for the Amazon Basin

182

with SUSANNA B. HECHT

17 The keepers of the forest

193

18 Indigenous management of tropical forest ecosystems: the case of the Kayapó Indians of the Brazilian Amazon

200

19 The continuum of Kayapó resource management

217

PART IV

Continuing adaptation by the Kayapó

219

20 From warclubs to words

221

21 The Kayapó Indian protests against Amazonian dams: successes, alliances, and unending battles

223

Contents

Appendix: management of a tropical scrub savanna by the Gorotire Kayapó of Brazil Notes Glossary Bibliography Index

vii

235 246 254 262 281

Figures

1.1 Location of principal Kayapó villages. 1.2 Schematic views of apêtê, showing variations in microecological zones that allow for maximum diversity of useful plant concentrations in these ‘forest islands’. 1.3 Schematic of new field (puru), showing planting and cultivation zones. 2.1 Model of village fission of the Northern Kayapó. 4.1 Kayapó model of the world showing parallel earth and sky disks in a circular universe. 4.2 Spatial model of the Kayapó world. 4.3 The idealized Kayapó village (kri-metx). 8.1 Idealized cross-section of Kayapó forest ecological zones and subzones near Gorotire. 8.2 Ecological zones surrounding the village of Gorotire as perceived by the Kayapó. 8.3 Trek from Kub˜en-kra˜-kein village to abandoned village site (Pyka-toˆ-ti) showing resource islands and campsites associated with forest fields. 9.1 Insect sequences and complexes (based on drawings by Irã Kayapó). 9.2 A drawing by Irã Kayapó of the wasp nest (amuh u˜ r u˜ kwa). 9.3 Cross-section of a wasp nest (drawing by Irã Kayapó). 10.1 Organization of BOL categories into four morphological sequences, only one of which is named (nhy/ñy). 10.2 Subdivisions of màrà. 10.3 Subdivisions of ipoi showing some subclass overlap between màrà and ipoi, ipoi and kapo (indicated by dotted lines). 10.4 Two possible models of set relationships between kapo, kapoti and krytkañet.

5

6 8 22 36 36 37 62 63

72 87 91 91

95 97

99 100

Figures

10.5 Category relationships within flies and kin (kopre). 10.6 Idealized hierarchical model showing superordinate and subordinate levels. 11.1 Reproduction of a drawing by Pedro Kayapó (made in Gorotire in 1979) showing the external form and internal structure of ku-krãi-ti (Trigona amazonensis). 11.2 Nests of Meliponinae focal species recognized by the Kayapó. 11.3 Schematic structures of Melipona nests with Kayapó nomenclature. 11.4 Types of Meliponinae entrance tubes recognized by the Kayapó with their respective ‘focal species’. 11.5 Ontogenetic stages of Meliponinae (represented in this figure by Melipona compressipes fasciculata, ngài-re) recognized by the Kayapó. 11.6 Major morphological structures recognized and named by the Kayapó. 12.1 An overview of the m˜e-kutôm, showing major symbolic components. 12.2 A lateral view of the m˜e-kutôm, showing the symbolic relationships between earth (pyka) and sky (kàikwa). 18.1 Apêtê formation: planting zones. 18.2 Ethnoecological units on the bà-kapôt continuum.

ix

104 109

114 116 117 118

119 122 136 137 210 212

Tables

8.1 Major ecological zones recognized by the Kayapó 8.2 Selected soil–plant–animal relationships in the selected ecozone (bà-ràràra) 8.3 Partial list of gathered food plants of the Kayapó 8.4 Major cultivated plants of the Kayapó 8.5 Folk varieties of major Kayapó cultigens 8.6 Semi-domesticated (manipulated) bee species utilized by the Kayapó 8.7 Principal species of Apidae utilized by the Kayapó Indians 9.1 Arthropod groups 9.2 Levels of correspondence for insects 10.1 A list of affixes used in the description of various màrà specimens 10.2 Subgroupings of krytkañet (Orthoptera) with analogous scientific classifications 10.3 Subgroupings of amuh 11.1 Species of meliponine bees encountered in the vicinity of Gorotire during the current study 11.2 Bee species semi-domesticated by the Kayapó Indians 13.1 Plant species used to treat hàk kanê and tep kanê 13.2 Plant species used to treat diarrhoea 14.1 Plants used as m˜em`y rerek djà; kukryt kanê; m˜e tu jaro djà; and me kra ket djà 14.2 Uses of related species by Kayapó and other groups 15.1 Kayapó natural vegetation classification 15.2 Dominant soil orders of the study area 15.3 Agriculture formations of the Kayapó 15.4 Fertility elements of planting additions used by the Kayapó 15.5 Means and standard deviation of fertility elements in Kayapó garden planting zones

61 64 67 68 69 73 75 84 85 98 101 107 114 130 143 146 152 161 169 170 171 173 177

Tables

16.1 Main soil constraints in the Amazon under native vegetation 16.2 Kayapó and Yurimaguas agricultural systems 16.3 Comparison of the structure of Kayapó, colonist and livestock production systems 16.4 Production of proteins per hectare of Kayapó, colonist and livestock systems over time 16.5 Changes in soil fertility elements in Kayapó, colonist and livestock systems 18.1 Apêtê planting zones in relation to corresponding ecological units 18.2 A partial list of tree species planted by the Kayapó Indians

xi

183 186 188 189 191 211 214

Preface

Darrell Posey died from cancer in March 2001 at the age of 53, in mid-career. He had been living in Oxford since 1993, teaching in the University, and travelling extensively throughout the world to attend conferences, teach and give lectures. At his home on Boar’s Hill he received almost incessant requests for copies of his articles, and had been considering gathering together some of his more important papers for re-publication. It was a suggestion from Roy Ellen and Laura Rival that he actually do this for the Studies in Environmental Anthropology series which finally prompted him to act. In preparing material for the new MSc Programme in Ethnobotany at Kent they had discovered just how much of a challenge finding his scattered and sometimes inaccessible original papers could be. This is perhaps to be expected of someone who was more concerned with making an impact on the world than with ensuring that his output was bibliographically tidy. It was in this context that Darrell and I discussed how best to present the papers he had written during his career, or two careers as it seemed to me, and it soon became obvious that his ethnobiological work with the Kayapó, whilst it directed the way his career would develop, could be regarded as a complete entity in itself. The development of his work for traditional resource rights after the Rio Summit was a new direction that grew out of his experiences in Brazil and meetings with indigenous peoples from throughout the world. This phase of his career was in turn reaching a natural closure as he turned once again to the inextricable link revealed to him by the Kayapó between human well-being and our natural environment. Darrell was less sure than I was of this natural break because his involvement with the ethnosciences and indigenous knowledge systems carried on throughout his life. To him his career had been a continuing path, but he felt that his past work was all too familiar to him and he could not look at it impartially, so he gave me carte-blanche to proceed with the selection, which we subsequently discussed with Mark Simon. This book therefore concentrates on the early part of Darrell’s career, his years in Brazil, when his entomological research and interest in anthropology came face to face with the complexity and differentness of Kayapó culture – the interweaving of spiritual and practical. It was the time also when he was confronted with the

Preface

xiii

impact of the twentieth century on peoples like the Kayapó, and on their landscape, and of their response to the changes. Chapter 20 in this book vividly describes Darrell’s reaction to this experience. To describe this book as ‘ethnobiology’ seems inadequate as it begs the question of where the division lies between the corporeal and the spiritual, between humans and all other life, and that is not even a question for the Kayapó. This is reflected in the first section, ‘Kayapó history and culture’. For the Kayapó there is no division between their history, culture and knowledge systems: the divisions are Western categorizations, and the English language cannot embrace this unity in a single word or concept. Darrell and I selected these articles as being among those he felt best represented the important features of his work in Brazil. His corpus is far larger, written in both English and Portuguese, and there is still the work of the Kayapó Project to be written up, but he considered these previously published papers as being among ‘the best’ at the time of our choice. This, however, didn’t stop him continuing to make new suggestions as long as he could, and it is so sad that he will not be able to make use of this book as a teaching aid. Kristina Plenderleith

Foreword Professor Brent Berlin

One measure of a person’s impact on a field is how one answers this question: ‘Has (name of individual) significantly influenced the way I conduct my work?’. If the name of the individual in question happened to be Darrell Posey, few ethnobiologists practising their art today could answer with anything other than, as the cliché goes, ‘a resounding yes’. It is certain that our practice of modern ethnobiology is, in many respects, a practice of the ethnobiology of Posey’s vision. This is a remarkable accomplishment. This impact is most directly seen in how we now approach the people with whom we plan to carry out our research. (A more accurate way of stating it, as Posey might have been quick to say, is ‘…with whom we plan to study’, in the sense of ‘become active apprentices’). No ethnobiologist (or scientist of any discipline, for that matter) can contemplate fieldwork with indigenous peoples today without having thought carefully about the intellectual property implications of their research. That this should be so is due, in large part, to Posey’s enormous influence on the international debates surrounding sustained economic development, indigenous intellectual property rights, and global biodiversity as a result of the Convention on Biological Diversity of 1992, an event that will change history forever and one in which Posey played a significant role. Posey’s concerns for the environment and indigenous knowledge grew out of his efforts to establish the International Society for Ethnobiology in 1988, and his role in developing the Declaration of Belém, a document for the conduct of ethnobiological research that forms the foundation of that Society’s current code of ethics. Since that time, he became the world’s leading advocate for traditional resource rights and was recognized by both academics and professionals in international agencies as the foremost spokesperson for policy matters relating to environment and development in indigenous regions of the world. If all of us have been marked by Posey’s efforts to make ethnobiologists acutely aware of the environmental/political implications of their work, perhaps fewer of us are as directly aware of Posey’s seminal and original ethnobiological work in Brazil. The publication of the present volume, one that includes examples of some of his important early ethnobiological writings will go far in making this segment of his important career more widely known.

Foreword

xv

Posey established himself as one of the pioneers in modern ethnobiological research with his original fieldwork among the Kayapó of the Brazilian Amazon. From the outset, he approached Kayapó knowledge of the natural world from an ecologically holistic perspective (perhaps, one might speculate, due to his training at the University of Georgia and the teachings of ecologist Eugene Odum). He was concerned with describing in detail the knowledge systems the Kayapó had developed in nurturing their lands – ethnobotany, ethnozoology, ethnomedicine and ethnopharmacology, ethnopedology, ethnoforestry, ethnoastronomy, and ethnoagriculture – ethnoecology in the broadest sense of the term. Some of these topics he explored with exquisite detail. His treatment of Kayapó knowledge of ‘stingless’ bees (reproduced here in a piece written in collaboration with João Maria Franco de Camargo) focuses on indigenous entomological classification that includes factors relating to habitat, preferred substrate or niche, external nest form, texture, material and shape of entrance structure, flight patterns, defence behaviour, size, form and colour of adults, and smell of bees, to mention the most salient. It has the flavour of old-timey Batesian natural history and is a delight to read. One of Posey’s most important theoretical and controversial contributions in ethnobiology/ethnoecology, reproduced here as ‘Indigenous management of tropical forest ecosystems: the case of the Kayapó Indians of the Brazilian Amazon’, is his proposal concerning the significance of the modification and deliberate management of the Brazilian forest landscape by traditional peoples. His Kayapó studies show that this historically mobile society (and, by implication, numerous other indigenous peoples) literally developed ‘forest gardens’ in the Brazilian outback by transplanting particularly desirable species in areas that they would likely visit at future dates, providing them with a series of productive but disjunct gardens available at differing seasons and over a number of years. Over time, he argued, this practice would have major effects on forest composition, biodiversity and, from the human perspective, ability to survive in extremely difficult environments. The implications of this proposal were radical: here we see for the first time direct links between creation of biodiversity and indigenous knowledge. It allowed him to then argue that so-called natural ecosystems were better thought of as cultural or anthropogenic landscapes – landscapes managed as entire systems, perhaps for millennia. It is now well known that Posey’s work in Brazil brought him, almost unavoidably, into the general arena of the growing conflict of orthodox industrial development schemes for the Amazon and traditional indigenous uses of the earth as attested by his Kayapó research. Confronting the Brazilian government, and at times placing himself in personal danger, he became more and more involved in biodiversity conservation activities, at a time when the term biodiversity was just beginning to be heard. These then were two faces of Darrell Posey. Many of us knew the Posey who founded the Working Group on Traditional Resource Rights at the Oxford Centre for the Environment, Ethics and Society, and whose publications are considered

xvi

Foreword

as essential reading by all persons working in the area, especially Traditional Resource Rights (1996) and Beyond Intellectual Property Rights, written with Graham Dutfield (1996), and Cultural and Spiritual Values of Biodiversity (1999), a hefty volume that will become the standard ‘biocultural diversity handbook’ for researchers, policy makers and government leaders. With Kayapó Ethnoecology and Culture we are given the opportunity to see an earlier face of Darrell Posey, that of devoted fieldworker and ethnobiologist/ethnoecologist to the Kayapó. Together, the faces appear as the portrait of one of the most important figures of the new century’s environmental anthropology. We are indebted to Kristina Plenderleith and Routledge for making this portrait possible. Brent Berlin Athens, Georgia 10 October 2000 (508 years after Cristobal Colon’s first arrival in the New World)

Acknowledgements

On behalf of Darrell Posey the editor and publishers would like to thank the following people and organizations: The co-authors and publishers for permission to reproduce Chapters 11, 13, 14, 15, 16 and Appendix: Dr João Maria Franco de Camargo and the Carnegie Museum of Natural History (Chapter 11); Dr Elaine Elisabetsky and the Ciba Foundation (Chapter 13); Dr Elaine Elisabetsky and the Society of Ethnobiology (Chapter 14); Dr Susanna Hecht and the New York Botanical Garden (Chapter 15); Dr Susanna Hecht and CNPq/Museu Goeldi (Chapter 16); and Dr Anthony Anderson and the New York Botanical Garden (Appendix). Funding and support was received from The Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research, New York (Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 and 10); the Newberry Library, Chicago, Illinois (Chapters 2, 3 and 8); the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (Chapters 2, 3 and 8); the Conselho Nacional de Pesquisas, Belém, Brazil (Chapters 9, 12 and 14); the Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas de Amazonia, Manaus, Brazil (Chapter 9); the Museu Paraense Emílio Goeldi (Chapters 8 and 9); the Fundação Nacional do Indio, Brazil (Chapters 8 and 9 and Appendix); the World Wildlife Fund – US (Chapters 14, 18 and Appendix); and the Conselho Nacional de Desenvolvimento Científico e Tecnológico (Chapter 18 and Appendix). Help with transportation and communications and supplies were received from: Força Aérea Brasileira (Chapters 4 and 18); VOTEC (Chapter 18) and the Unevangelized Field Missions (Chapter 18). Friends and colleagues who supported and worked with Darrell Posey included: Anthony Anderson, William Balée, Eva Banner, Beptopoop, Luciane dos Santos Costa, William Denevan, Henry F. Dobyns, John Eddins, Elaine Elisabetsky, John Frechione, Anne Gély, Jeffrey Golliher, Gerhard Gottsberger, Susanna Hecht, Gina Holloman, Carol Jones, Warwick Kerr, Kwyrà-kà, Peter MacBeath, Carmen Chavez McClendon, Emílio Moran, Paulinho Paiakan, Ghillean Prance, Ionara Siqueira Rodrigues, Carlos Rosário, Maria Aparecida Correia dos Santos, John Singleton, Micky Stout, Helen Hornbeck Tanner, Lylianne Theodoro, Dan Usner, José Uté. Thanks to Dr John Frechione for preparation of the maps, figures and artwork in Chapter 8.

xviii

Acknowledgements

The Projecto Kayapó was an interdisciplinary project to study the ethnobiology of the Kayapó Indians. It was financed by the Conselho Nacional de Desenvolvimento Científico e Tecnológico and the World Wildlife Fund – US. Project work was conducted by the Laboratório de Etnobiologia, Universidade Federal do Maranhão, São Luis, Maranhão, Brazil.

Part 1

Kayapó history and culture

Chapter 1

The science of the M˜ebêngôkre1

When I arrived in the village of Gorotire in 1977, the Kayapó were still best known for their savageness and their distinctive stretched lips. The last group of these Amazonian Indians had been ‘pacified’ less than ten years before. The lip disk, sign of a valiant warrior, was in decline, but older men still wore their ‘big lips’ with pride. One night shortly after my arrival, I was invited to sit with the ‘big lips’ in the Men’s House for the elders’ council. The Brazilian government was finally demarcating the Kayapó lands to protect Indian territory from land speculators, and the leaders of the Kayapó villages had been assembled to discuss how to defend their domain against encroaching plantations. The chiefs were meeting together for the first time in peace and cooperation. As a newcomer to Kayapó society, I was awed by the formal oratory of the elders. How could four-inch wide lip disks be manipulated so artistically and with such authority? I marvelled even more at the ease and naturalness with which two great warriors drank their coffee and ate their manioc bread over their built-in plates. Big lips, formal oratory, strange language, along with colourful dances and ceremonies, together formed an exotic filter over the people I had come to study. It took six months of living with them before I could see through this filter and begin to realize that the Kayapó were people, too, with all the frailties and attributes that characterize the human creature: Kayapós fight and quarrel; they complain; they can be petty and selfish, and even lie. They love their families; cry for their dead; sacrifice for their children; work hard to provide for their households; and delight in joking and conversing. The Kayapó year begins in the low-water season with agricultural activities that continue until the maturation of the corn. The harvest period follows. The fall of wild fruits attracts animals, precipitating the hunting season, which coincides with the time of the high water. Then there is a short period of heightened leisure and family activities, which ends when the water level in the river lowers again. Fishing intensifies, and a new year begins. The different times of the year are celebrated with seasonal ceremonies, which are of great importance to the social identity of the group as well as to daily life.

4


These ritual ceremonies are closely tied to the agricultural, hunting and fishing cycles of the Amazonian environment. The people observe specific rituals before and after each trip to hunt or collect plants. Festivals celebrate the maize and manioc seasons as well as the hunting seasons for land turtle, tapir, anteater and other game animals. Each ceremony requires certain foods and other natural objects, which means an organized trek to find the needed materials. The bestowing of ‘beautiful names’ on the youngest generations is perhaps the most important social event in the Kayapó society. Some of my most enjoyable times with the Kayapó are during their treks to get game and fish needed to feed the dancers for the ceremonies. Long days are spent camped along the sandy river beaches, watching the strings of yellow and white butterflies as they hover over the waters, or in a dugout on the river, listening to the tucunare fish as they flop among the rocks near the cataracts, or watching the crane fly, always just in front of the boat as we edged along quietly in hopes of surprising a tapir or deer drinking along the river banks. People who do not know the tropics always say to me, ‘But you must miss the seasons’. Little do they know that among the Indians the seasons of the Amazon are not four, but dozens and dozens. As an anthropologist trained in entomology, I went to live among the Kayapó to study their knowledge of and beliefs concerning the natural environment. The Kayapó, one of the various subgroups of the great M˜ebêngôkre nation (people from the water’s source), inhabit a vast area spreading across the states of Pará and Mato Grosso in Brazil. The Northern Kayapó occupy a two-million hectare Indian reserve in Pará. Gorotire is one of seven northern Kayapó villages located in the Reserva Indígena Kayapó located on the broad, flat campo next to the Rio Fresco (7o48´S, 51o7´W). One of the most significant questions facing Amazonian countries today is how large populations can be supported in and around the Amazon Basin without destruction of the natural resource base. The biological knowledge held by Amerindians has customarily been considered irrelevant, because aboriginal populations were thought to have been sparse and scattered. Recent investigations, however, suggest that the size of these populations has been grossly underestimated. Archaeological and geographical data confirm historical accounts of the existence of large population centres in Amazonia. Although the present number of the M˜ebêngôkre is relatively small, the evidence suggests that they and other Amerindians have profoundly influenced the Amazonian environment. Landscapes long regarded as ‘natural’ have in fact been extensively managed by the M˜ebêngôkre for millennia. In their management of the tropical forest, they have developed a social and agricultural system that is vastly better adapted to the fragile ecosystem than anything the ‘civilizados’ have attained even today in the same environment. As numerical estimates of Amerindian populations at the time of European discovery continue to increase, indigenous systems of ecological knowledge like those of the M˜ebêngôkre are becoming more and more relevant to modern development planning.

The science of the M˜e bêngôkre

5

Figure 1.1 Location of principal Kayapó villages.

The knowledge of the M˜ebêngôkre Indians is an integrated system of beliefs and practices. In addition to the information shared generally, there is specialized knowledge held by a few. Each village has its specialists in soils, plants, animals, crops, medicines and rituals. But each M˜ebêngôkre believes that he or she has the ability to survive alone in the forest indefinitely. This offers great personal security and permeates the fabric of everyday life. A complete M˜ebêngôkre view of nature is difficult to convey because of its underlying cultural complexity. It is possible, however, to identify categories of indigenous knowledge that indicate new research directions, even shortcuts, for Western science, as well as alternatives to the destruction of Amazonia.

Ethnoecology The M˜ebêngôkre identify specific plants and animals as occurring within particular ecological zones. They have a well-developed knowledge of animal behaviour and also know which plants are associated with particular animals. Plant types in turn are associated with soil types. Each ecological zone represents a system of interactions among plants, animals, soil and the M˜ebêngôkre themselves. The M˜ebêngôkre recognize ecosystems that lie on a continuum between the poles of forest and savanna. They have names, for example, for as many as nine

6


different types of savanna – savanna with few trees, savanna with many forest patches, savanna with scrub, and so on. But the M˜ebêngôkre concentrate less on the differences between zones than on the similarities that cut across them. Marginal or open spots within the forest, for example, can have microenvironmental conditions similar to those in the savanna. The M˜ebêngôkre take advantage of these similarities to exchange and spread useful species between zones by transplanting seeds, cuttings, tubers and saplings. Thus there is much interchange between what we tend to see as distinctly different ecological systems. M˜ebêngôkre agriculture focuses upon the zones intermediate between forest and savanna types, because it is in these areas that maximal biological diversity occurs. Villages too are often sited in these transition zones. The M˜ebêngôkre not only recognize the richness of ‘ecotones’, but they actually create them. They exploit secondary forest areas and create special concentrations of plants in forest fields, rock outcroppings, trailsides and elsewhere. The creation of forest islands, or apêtê, demonstrates to what extent the M˜ebêngôkre can alter and manage ecosystems to increase biological diversity. Apêtê begin as small mounds of vegetation, about one to two metres round, created by transporting organic matter obtained from termite nests and ant nests to open areas in the field. Slight depressions are usually sought out because they are more

Figure 1.2 Schematic views of apêtê, showing variations in microecological zones that allow for maximum diversity of useful plant concentrations in these ‘forest islands’.


7

likely to retain moisture. Seeds or seedlings are planted in these piles of organic material. The apêtê are usually formed in August and September, during the first rains of the wet season, and then nurtured by the Indians as they pass along the savanna trails. As apêtê grow, they begin to look like up-turned hats, with higher vegetation in the centre and lower herbs growing in the shaded borders. The Indians usually cut down the highest trees in the centre to create a doughnut-hole centre that lets the light into older apêtê. Thus a full-grown apêtê has an architecture that creates zones that vary in shade, light and humidity. These islands become important sources of medicinal and edible plants, as well as places of rest. Palms, which have a variety of uses, figure prominently in apêtê, as do shade trees. Even vines that produce drinkable water are transplanted here. However, apêtê look so ‘natural’ that until recently scientists did not recognize that they were in fact human artefacts. According to informants, of a total of 120 species inventoried in ten apêtê, about 75 per cent could have been planted. Such ecological engineering requires detailed knowledge of soil fertility, microclimatic variations and species’ niches, as well as the interrelationships among species that are introduced into these human-made communities. The eating habits of deer and tapir are well known to the Indians, and their favourite foods are propagated in forest islands. In this sense, apêtê must be viewed as both agroforestry plots and hunting reserves. The M˜ebêngôkre are aware that some species developed more vigorously when planted together. They frequently speak of plants that are ‘good friends’ or ‘good neighbours’. One of the first of these ‘neighbours complexes’ I was able to investigate was the tyryti-ombiqua, or ‘banana neighbours’. Among the plants that thrive near bananas are some of the mekraketdjà (‘child want not’) plants, which are very important in regulating fertility among the M˜ebêngôkre. The M˜ebêngôkre characterize such synergistic plant groups in terms of ‘plant energy’. These groups can include dozens of species and require complex patterns of cultivation. Thus a M˜ebêngôkre garden is created by carefully combining different ‘plant energies’ just as an artist blends colours to produce a work of art. Indian fields thrive on diversity within the plots. This diversity is quite ordered to the Indian eye, with careful matchings between plant varieties and microenvironmental conditions. Apparently random fields turn out to have five more or less concentric zones, each with preferred varieties of cultivars and different cultivation strategies. M˜ebêngôkre fields look very untidy to Westerners used to nice ‘clean’ fields with orderly, symmetrical rows.

Ethnopedology A survey of M˜ebêngôkre soil taxonomy shows sophisticated horizontal and vertical distinctions based on texture, colour, drainage qualities, friability and stratification. Soil qualities are frequently related to indicator plant species that

8


Figure 1.3 Schematic of new field (puru), showing planting and cultivation zones.

allow Indians to predict floral and faunal components associated with specific soil types, each of which is managed differently according to individual characteristics. Sweet potatoes, for instance, like hotter soils and thrive in the centre of fields where shade from the margins rarely penetrates. The plants must be well aerated, however, or soil compaction will smother the root system. Much hand work is necessary to turn over the soils, take out larger tubers and replant smaller ones. The M˜ebêngôkre use various types of ground cover such as vegetation, logs, leaves, straw and bark to affect moisture, shade and temperature of local soils. Holes are sometimes filled with organic matter, refuse and ash to produce highly concentrated pockets of rich soil. Old banana leaves, stalks, rice straw and other organic matter are piled and sometimes burned in selected parts of fields to create additional local variations. The M˜ebêngôkre have dozens of types of plant ash, each said to have certain qualities preferred by specific cultivars. The ash is usually prepared from the vines, shucks, stalks and leaves of plants that have been cut or uprooted during harvesting or weeding. Sometimes piles of organic matter are made, with the different varieties carefully separated and allowed to dry in the sun until they will give a complete burn. The ashes are then distributed to the appropriate part of the field.

Ethnozoology Like other tribes, the M˜ebêngôkre conscientiously study animal anatomy, giving special attention to stomach contents of game animals. They are also astute observers of many aspects of animal behaviour. The M˜ebêngôkre encourage their children to learn the behaviour patterns and feeding habits of different animal species, which are considered to have their own ‘personalities’.


9

Part of this knowledge is gained through the rearing of pets. In a survey done with Kent Redford, we found over sixty species of birds, reptiles, snakes, amphibians, mammals – even spiders – being raised in the village. M˜ebêngôkre use a precise knowledge of insect behaviour to control agricultural pests. For example, nests of ‘smelly ants’ – mrum kudjà (genus Azteca) – are deliberately placed by the Indians in gardens and on fruit trees that are infested with leaf-cutting ants (Atta spp.). The pheromones of the ‘smelly ants’ repel the leaf-cutters. These protective ants are also highly prized for their medicinal properties and are frequently crushed and their robust aromatic scents inhaled to open up the sinuses. The Indians cultivate several plants containing extra-floral nectaries, often on the leaves or stems, which attract predatory ants to serve as ‘bodyguards’ for the plant. They also plant banana trees to form a living wall around their fields because predatory wasps nest preferentially under the leaves. Stingless bees (Meliponinae) are one of the most valued insect resources. During the dry season, groups of men frequently go off for days to find honey, which they often drink at the collection site. Beeswax is brought back to the village to be burnt in ceremonies and used in many artefacts. One of my knowledgeable and patient teachers, the shaman Kwyrà-kà, was a great expert on stingless bees. When I went with him and his son Irã upriver to hunt, we spent most of our time searching for honey. His son had learned to draw at the missionary school and loved to sketch the bees’ nests. I was originally trained in entomology, and realized what a goldmine of information these two Indians possessed about the behaviour of what our scientists still considered littleknown species.

Ethnomedicine and ethnopharmacology Almost every M˜ebêngôkre household has its complement of common medicinal plants, many of which are domesticates or semi-domesticates. Shamans specialize in the treatment of particular diseases. Diarrhoea and dysentery remain the major killers in the humid tropics. The M˜ebêngôkre classify over 50 types of diarrhoea/dysentery, each of which is treated with specific medicines. Folk categories can be more elaborate and detailed than their Western counterparts. Ethnopharmacologists and physicians frequently forget that disease categories, like all intellectually perceived phenomena, are culturally classified and not universal.

Ethnobotany M˜ebêngôkre plant classification is based on each plant’s pharmacological properties – that is, for which diseases they can serve as a cure. The shaman Beptopoop was the first M˜ebêngôkre to show me how rare medicinal plants could be brought from distant areas and transplanted to places near one’s home trails, or in medicinal rock gardens. He specialized in curing the bites and stings of snakes, lizards

10


and scorpions, and knew the minutest details of their behaviour. I got a feeling for the sophistication of Kayapó plant knowledge when he showed me how to graft a prized species for treating scorpion stings onto more common stock that grew near his favourite forest trail. Indian plant categories cut across morphologically-based botanical groupings. Nevertheless, these taxonomies often exhibit a high degree of correlation with Western botanical classification. In addition to the discovery of medicinal plants, ethnobotany can establish new uses for known species and document the uses of unknown ones. ‘Kupa’ (Cissus gongylodes), for instance, is an edible domesticate known only to the M˜ebêngôkre and some of their relatives. An estimated 250 plants have been collected that are used for their fruits alone.

Ethnoagriculture and agroforestry Indigenous agriculture begins with a forest opening into which useful species are introduced, and ends with a mature forest of concentrated resources, including game animals. The cycle is repeated when the old-field forests develop canopies too high and dense for efficient production and are cleared again. Agricultural plots are designed to be productive throughout this reforestation cycle. Contrary to persistent beliefs about indigenous slash/burn agriculture, fields are not abandoned within a few years of initial clearing and planting. On the contrary, old fields offer an important concentration of diverse resources long after primary cultivars have disappeared. M˜ebêngôkre ‘new fields’, for example, peak in production of principal domesticated crops in two or three years, but continue to bear produce for many years: sweet potatoes for four to five years; yams and taro for five to six years; papaya for five or more years. The M˜ebêngôkre consistently revisit old fields seeking these lingering riches. Fields take on new life as plants in the natural reforestation sequence begin to appear. These plants soon constitute a type of forest for which the Kayapó have a special name that means mature old fields. Such fields provide a wide range of useful products, and are especially valuable for their concentrations of medicinal plants. Old fields also attract wildlife to their abundant low leafy plants. Intentional dispersal of old fields and systematic hunting extends human influence over the forest by providing, in effect, large ‘game farms’ near human population centres. M˜ebêngôkre do not make a clear distinction between fields and forest nor between wild and domesticated species. Gathered plants are transplanted, concentrated in spots near trails and campsites, to produce ‘forest fields’. The sides of trails themselves are planting zones. It is not uncommon to find trails composed of four-metre-wide cleared strips of forest. The processes of domestication, frequently assumed to be historical, are still occurring in indigenous groups like the M˜ebêngôkre. With the team members of the Kayapó Project, we have collected literally hundreds of plant varieties that


11

have been systematically selected by the M˜ebêngôkre and planted in human-modified ecological systems. It is fair to conclude that similar activities have gone and continue to go on throughout the Amazon among native peoples. Thus plant species are probably being led toward domestication as you read this chapter.

New directions It is always easy to interest people in the exotic side of Indian life – big lips, strange customs – as I tried to do in the beginning of this chapter. But behind this colourful filter are lessons that our own society desperately needs. M˜ebêngôkre ecological adaptations and agricultural strategies offer new models for resource management of the Amazon. Past efforts to develop the Amazon have been such clear failures that the necessity for new directions is obvious. Changes must begin by treating Indians and caboclos not as problems in development to be overcome or planned for, but rather as active participants in the process, whose ideas are integrated into new, more socially and ecologically rational strategies of change. If indigenous experience were taken seriously by modern science and incorporated into research and development programmes, the Indians would be recognized as a diligent, intelligent and practical people who have adapted successfully for thousands of years in the Amazon, and they would participate, with the respect and esteem they deserve, in the construction of a modern Brazil. One important question remains unanswered, and this is one of the most difficult. How do we compensate native peoples for their knowledge? How do we legally recognize the intellectual property rights of native peoples? Unless we find the answer, we will be a part of just another colonial invasion to mine and exploit the last knowers of the secrets of the Neotropics.

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A Song of the Spirit I suspect that one of the greatest values of anthropological field work is the clarity of one’s own cultural constructs laid bare by totally new cultural and geographical surroundings. This makes anthropologists poets of humanity, and their ethnographic contributions the epics of humankind. I shall never forget my first ‘epic’ journey with the Kayapó: a trek to raid a settlement of Brazilians that had encroached on Indian lands. It was only a month since I had arrived in the Kayapó village and I knew nothing of their concepts of time. What I thought was to be a three-day journey turned out to be an eleven-day expedition, during most of which there was ritual fasting and running through the forest. After four days travelling down river to a base camp, and one day of running through the forest, I had to turn back, weak from not eating, exhausted from running, and dehydrated to the point that my throat was too sore to swallow even a tablespoon of water. I had fallen back from the long file of running Kayapó and found myself thoroughly lost in a jungle I knew nothing about. After a night of lonely trauma I was rescued by three old men who had turned back due to illness. With care and concern they led me back to the river. Every step was painful, every move exasperating. I had wanted to stay with the Indians throughout their raid. I had wanted to be the poet to the bitter end. But the idealism of an unseasoned fieldworker was crushed by the reality of physical and cultural limits. Exhausted, humiliated, disappointed, I reluctantly returned with my guides to our dugout. From its berth along the Rio Fresco we set out to the base camp upriver. My only solace was that I had not been left alone in the jungle and that I was at least alive to try again to be a Kayapó. It had only taken an hour to float downstream from the camp, but the currents upriver were strong. We were all weak and tired. Paddling a dugout against the swirling water of an Amazonian tributary is not easy. Then the storm came. The winds blew from the west, perpendicular to our course. Then the lightning came, heralded by tremendous tremors of thunder. We kept close to the sides of the river, where lightning would strike the tall trees and not our tiny craft. At times I could not see the front of the dugout from my vantage only a few feet to the rear. New waves of rain moved across the great forest canopy like the roar of a freight train. The chill of each deluge crept deeper and deeper into my bones. Then, like the charge of the storm itself, I felt the majesty of nature. I knew that I was seeing a world that the Kayapó knew, appreciated, and sought inspiration from. The misery left. The fear dissipated. What was left


was the realization that as at no other time in my life I was a creature of the universe, not separated by culture nor physiology from my dugout companions. They had no fear, for they felt the intensity of life that lay all around. Into my head came this song: Paddle, paddle on we go; Till we can row no more. Lightning, strike at every stroke; Still we cannot give up hope. Tis a beauty rich and rare; A creation only men would dare. Yet we go with glistening speed; Shelter is one of man’s needs. Lightning, thunder, wind and rain; Will I see this sight again. Nature at her perfect hour; Casting before us her very power. The words flowed forth with a tune that emerged from the midst of the whirling storm. What bad poetry it seems now. What a wonderful song it seemed then. I sang it later for my Kayapó rescuers. They recognized it at once . ‘It is your Spirit Song,’ they said. ‘Everyone must have a Spirit Song. You are now one of us.’ I still feel that song with its amateurish words is the first of my epic poetry. It is the beginning of my own attempt to record the ethnographic poetry of humankind. It is not a Kayapó song, nor does it have Kayapó words or form. It was conceived under the oneness of great cultural and physical stress. It is a song of the spirit and it is the same spirit as the Kayapó’s: it is the spirit of the human struggle to survive and understand the meaning of existence as a part of the grandness of nature.

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Chapter 2

Contact before contact: typology of post-Colombian interaction with the Northern Kayapó of the Amazon 1

Introduction Studies suggest that aboriginal populations in the New World tropics were considerably larger than previously assumed (Dobyns 1966; Denevan 1976; Lathrop 1968; Hemming 1978). Indigenous agricultural and ecological management systems have likewise been shown to be more sophisticated and productive than expected, and, consequently, to offer a higher aboriginal population potential (Posey and Hecht 1988; Barbira-Scazzocchio 1981; Moran 1981a). Other prevailing misconceptions have also been undermined; for example, it is no longer accepted that indigenous agricultural systems were simple and poorly developed or ‘marginal’ (Meggers 1971; Goodland and Irwin 1975); nor that all tropical ecological zones are insufficiently fertile to support substantial human populations (Moran 1979, 1981a; Smith 1980). My own research, for example, has pointed out that scientists have grossly underestimated the importance of gathered products and obscure sources of protein like insects and nuts (Posey 1978, 1987b). Completely overlooked are extensive categories of semi-domesticated plants and animals, the wide-range utilization of secondary reforestation vegetation in so-called ‘abandoned fields’, and a complex system of ‘nomadic agriculture’ in manipulated ‘forest fields’ (Posey 1983e, 1986b).2 Thus it is evident that the long-standing debates concerning ‘carrying capacity’ and ‘protein capture’ are far from over as new data continue to support higher and higher figures for potential aboriginal and historical indigenous populations.3 Existing indigenous peoples in Brazil offer a tremendous source of information about tropical ecology, ecological zones, complex plant–animal–human relationships or ‘co-evolutionary complexes’, as well as a myriad of plants and animals for potential large-scale exploitation (Posey 1986b, 1987b, 1988). In other words, the indigenous ‘experts’, whose cultures reflect thousands of years of adaptation to and information about Amazonia, may hold the urgently needed key that will allow for new strategies for sustained productivity and development in the Amazon without the senseless ecological and social destruction that is now underway. Why not development of the Amazon based on indigenous ecological knowledge?

Contact before contact

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This basic suggestion is always met with a powerful retort: ‘nice idea, but what can Indians who live in villages of 200 to 300 tell us that is relevant? Today there must be planning for towns much larger!’ In response, ethnohistorical research about the nature of aboriginal populations and, specifically, the nature of ‘contact’ with Europeans, is critical. ‘Initial contact’ is frequently assumed to be the first recorded episode of actual face-to-face interaction. A mistaken corollary is that what was observed during initial contact was a virgin, pristine Indian population, living in an isolated society free from European influence. Descriptions of social and political organization, rituals and artefacts, as well as population estimates, are made based upon this assumption. My work with the Gorotire Kayapó of Brazil, with whom ‘initial contact’ was made only in 1936 (Ribeiro 1970), soon revealed, however, that considerable interaction had already occurred with Europeans well prior to 1936 (Verswijver 1986: 41). By the time the first observer arrived to describe the Gorotire Kayapó, they were, in fact, greatly weakened due to devastating depopulation that provoked the formation of mutually hostile splinter groups. This chapter explores some of the mechanisms whereby European influence was felt prior to presumed ‘initial contact’. A model of social/cultural degradation and schismatic group hostility is offered for the northern Kayapó within this century.

Contact and history The Kayapó are part of the Macro-Jê peoples (Greenberg 1960) that stretched in a great interior crescent from near Belém in the Amazon Basin to Ilhéus on the South Atlantic coast of Brazil. The southern Kayapó branch that extends to Santa Catarina was encountered by the Portuguese shortly after Cabral discovered Brazil in 1500.4 Numerous wars were waged with these southern Kayapó by the early colonists. The royal governors of São Paulo sent forth the colonial militia in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to subdue the ferocious and hostile Kayapó ‘hordes’. They met with considerable success, and by 1720 a reasonably safe caravan route was opened to connect Cuiabá, the centre of the interior gold trade, with the coast.5 Although the southern Kayapó had been partially subdued by the colonial militia, more northerly Kayapó groups eluded Portuguese guns and were successful in carrying out numerous and regular raids on the gold caravans (Hemming 1978: 385, 397, 399, 405–6). The northern Kayapó became famous for their hostility, daring raids and barbarous manner of bludgeoning to death their victims (Sick 1960: 205; Wagley 1977: 39–40, 287; Baldus 1960: 399). Because of their reputation for violence, and because they lived north of the principal interior corridor of the Portuguese colony, the northern Kayapó did not have sustained relationships with Europeans until the nineteenth century (Nimuendajú 1932). Frei Gil Vilanova, a Dominican, was the first man to have sustained friendly relations with a band of northern Kayapó located along the Araguaia River.6 He established the

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Mission of Santa Anna Nova in 1860 and watched helplessly as this band of Pau d’Arco Kayapó, as they were called, died off due to successive epidemics (Krause 1911). When Coudreau arrived at the Mission in 1896, he found 5,000 Pau d’Arco Kayapó living in four villages, the largest of which had approximately 1,500 inhabitants (Coudreau 1897a). These population estimates have been routinely dismissed as being exaggerated. However, Coudreau was observing a population already with over 30 years of contact with European diseases, and probably only observed a portion of the original Pau d’Arco population that had survived various waves of epidemics described by Frei Vilanova. This Kayapó group had insufficient immunity against European diseases and became extinct only 50 years after Coudreau’s visit (Dobyns 1966: 413–14; Vellard 1956: 78–9).

Preliminaries It is necessary to emphasize the overriding effects of European diseases upon indigenous populations. The effects of our ‘childhood’ diseases like mumps, measles, whooping cough and flu were disastrous (cf. McNeill 1976; Davis 1977; Crosby 1972). It is not uncommon to find 85 to 90 per cent of any given Indian group destroyed by a single epidemic (Dobyns 1966; Hemming 1978: 139, 492; Myers 1974; Sweet 1974: 78–80, 579–82). A rough calculation shows that 85 per cent of the indigenous populations died from European diseases the first generation after ‘initial contact’.7 In one epidemic of measles in a northern Kayapó village (Kokrajmoro), 34 per cent of an inoculated population died within two weeks, and that included everyone over the age of 40, except two old women (Earl Trapp, personal communication; FUNAI archives). This particular epidemic took place in a village that had been officially contacted for nearly 20 years! One can only imagine what effects such epidemics had upon uninoculated populations. The immediate effect upon this particular Kayapó village was that there was no one to tend the crops nor even gather ripened produce. The village was weakened to the point that, had it not been for emergency medical aid from a missionary team, the entire group would have disappeared. The group did survive, but cultural and social systems came virtually to a halt because cultural transmission generally takes place between grandparents and grandchildren. There were no grandparents left, not a single elder male, to instruct in the essential rituals to insure healthy crops, nor anyone to perform the rituals of naming that perpetuate the uniquely Kayapó inheritance system. Furthermore, since ceremonial activities are highly differentiated with specialized roles being performed by specific lineages, entire ceremonies and rituals disappeared with the death of senior lineage members. The village fell instantly into the throes of chaotic deculturation.8 Not just the previously mentioned viral diseases are important in the epidemiological history of the Amazonian Indian. Typhus, yellow fever and malaria are also written into the historical records (Dobyns 1966; McNeill 1976: 176–207; Crosby 1972: 73–121). Indians seem to have a greater resistance to these diseases than do Europeans, indicating that they have had a longer time to develop resistance.9 Yet


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these diseases are said not to be endemic to Amazonia. One is left to conclude that these diseases often arrived centuries before the first outsider, white or black, actually set foot in the village. Diseases can be analysed by the ways they are transmitted. This essentially epidemiological approach reveals that diseases do not always have to have direct human carriers, since epidemics can well precede initial face-to-face contact (Crosby 1972: 51).

Contact before contact From an epidemiological perspective, ‘contact’ situations can be separated into three categories based on the nature of interaction between Indians and Europeans: 1 2

3

‘Indirect contact’ (in which no human agent or carrier is responsible for disease transmission); ‘Intermediate contact’ (in which disease transmission takes place via a few individuals who selectively spread diseases from social groups they either represent or visit); ‘Direct contact’ (in which diseases are transmitted through direct face-to-face contact between groups of people).

Indirect contact ‘Silent exchange’ The Kayapó claim they used to trade with the Arara Indians before the Arara moved further to the north-west. They were bitter enemies of the Araras, however, and loathed their cannibalistic tendencies. Nonetheless, the Kayapó prized the yellow feathers of a water bird found in the Arara’s area and traded parrot feathers and eagle down for these coveted feathers. This prehistoric practice was said to have been done by leaving bamboo tubes filled with feathers, and closed up with beeswax, in designated camp sites; the Arara would reciprocate by leaving ibis feathers. Feathers alone are capable of carrying lice, as well as viral and bacterial organisms, that cause fatal disease. The Arara are known to have been in contact with the Portuguese and were exposed to European diseases in the early nineteenth century (Hemming 1978: 426–37; Bernardino da Souza 1874: 65–7, 130–1). Thus, contamination of Kayapó groups could have occurred via the Arara and similar groups through these trade exchanges. Insect vectors and animal reservoirs Yellow fever can be carried in primate reservoirs (Pavlovsky 1966; Hull 1963; Dunn 1965). Monkeys were, and remain today, one of the important trade commodities

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between the Kayapó and other Indian groups or with Europeans. Also, plague has been reported as early as 1536 in Brazil (Dobyns 1966; Ashburn 1947) and may have spread to the interior along established trade routes that dealt in pelt exchange, the furs being vehicles for the flea vectors. Typhus is likewise transported (Posey 1978, 1980). Thus, human carriers are not necessary for the immediate spread of disease, if these maladies have already been introduced into animal populations from human sources. Myers (1981a) and Lyon (1981) have begun to trace what was an extensive and well-developed network of trade routes throughout the Americas. There is now evidence that highland Andean and lowland Amazonian regions were connected by trade routes that also interlaced the coastal regions of Brazil with internal commercial systems. Intermediate contact Trade exchanges 1

2

3

With Europeans: The Txucahamai Kayapó were already in possession of numerous European trade goods when they were first contacted by the VillasBoas brothers in 1968 (Villas-Boas 1968).10 Friendly contacts and exchanges by Europeans with the northern Kayapó groups were recorded in 1810, 1896 and 1908, and certainly included disease transmission as well.11 ‘Go-betweens’: Runaway Indian slaves as well as ‘trade specialists’ from the aboriginal population centres of Brazil often served as ‘go-betweens’ in trading between the Portuguese and ‘wild’ Indians.12 It is not certain if the Kayapó traded in this manner, but their vast territory extended to areas along the Araguaia, Tocantins, Xingu and Tapajós Rivers, all of which were accessible to this type of trade. These travellers penetrated deep into Amazonia and carried contagious diseases to many indigenous groups for which no contact was recorded for decades, even centuries, after these initial encounters. Trade with other Indians: The Kayapó continue to trade among village groups today and traded with other Indians in the past – notably the Karajá, the Mundurucu, the Araras, the Xikrin and the Tapirapé (cf. Wagley 1977: 215, 29–31, 101; Bernardino de Souza 1874: 231). The principal trade items were: feathers, beads, monkeys, skins and pelts, reeds for arrows, and various types of palm fibre for weaving. These items are conducive to the transmission of viral and bacterial diseases.13

Based on oral tradition, the Kayapó were tied into a vast network of Jê, Tupi, Carib, Arawak, Karajá and Guarani trade routes. These aboriginal networks extended into the Amazon and its major tributaries to the north of the Kayapó (Myers 1981a); other networks ran along the Plata and Paraguay River Basins (Lyon 1981) and perhaps extended into the Xingu Basin in the heart of Kayapó lands.


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Regatões The early Bishops of Belém employed and otherwise encouraged a group of boat captains (‘regatões’) to explore the hinterlands. These ‘regatões’ traded with Indians in an effort to ensure good relations and to learn the Indian languages. They penetrated deep into the river tributaries of Amazonia. They were expected to return to the Bishop with their reports, then to serve as interpreters and guides for subsequent voyages to convert the Indians. These people are known to have reached the Araguaia and lower Xingu, well within the range of traditional Kayapó treks.14 Rubber-tappers The quest for rubber and cacao led the legendary ‘sertanistas’ and ‘seringueiros’ deep into the interior of the Amazon Basin. The Kayapó tell of the intrusion of many of these outsiders (kub˜en). However, few of the rubber-tappers and cacaogatherers lived to tell about the inhospitable Kayapó.15 Neither did Colonel Fawcett, for that matter. Runaway slaves The Portuguese were plagued constantly with runaway slaves – both black and Indian.16 It is impossible to know if any such runaways made it as far into the interior as the modern-day northern Kayapó, but there is considerable evidence of varied genetic mixture in modern Kayapó cultures (Black 1977). Portuguese exploration 1

2

3

For gold and gems: In the early seventeenth century the Portuguese began their search for gold in the Mato Grosso interior. Rich supplies were found near Cuiabá and a caravan route was established to connect the mines with the coast. These routes penetrated the southern edge of the Kayapó country and resulted in some friendly, but mostly hostile, interactions between the Indians and the fortune-hunters (Henderson 1821: 241, 453; Ayres de Cazal 1817: 330; Magalhães 1922:101). Wars against Indians: The colonial government sent various armies forth to subdue the Kayapó. Most of the raids were carried out against southern Kayapó groups. The Portuguese militia penetrated into northern Mato Grosso, however, which was northern Kayapó territory in historic times (Hemming 1978: 407–8). Although friendly contact was not common, prisoners were taken, and even sporadic contact was sufficient to contaminate Indian warriors. Religious expeditions: In 1810, Dom João Ferreira, Treasurer of the Cathedral of São Paulo, contacted the Kayapó at the great rapids of Urubú-Punga. There

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was a friendly exchange that lasted several days. Dom João even took several Kayapó back with him to São Paulo (Ayres de Cazal 1817; Henderson 1821: 453). We do not know if these ‘hostages’ were ever returned. Direct contact Raids for material objects The Kayapó were well known for their raids on other Indian groups as well as ‘civilizados’ in order to take such things as baskets, masks, pets, feathers, guns, metal tools and ornaments (Coudreau 1897:197; Posey 1983e). Raids for hostages The Kayapó have an ancient tradition of raiding for hostages (Henderson 1821: 210). They take small children, whom they know they can raise as culturally Kayapó. Approximately 15 per cent of the modern village of Gorotire is composed of such individuals (Posey 1979b). Genetic research with the Kayapó groups confirms the ancient nature of this practice (Black et al. n.d.; Salzano et al. 1977). Warfare for revenge The Kayapó are famed for their ferocious nature. They made war against the Portuguese as soon as the Portuguese had penetrated the areas near the Araguaia, Tocantins, Xingu and even the Tapajós River (Vidal 1977:13–15). Similar wars were waged against Indian neighbours, both Kayapó and non-Kayapó (Verswijver 1978, 1986). These were frequently provoked by killings of Kayapó by a ‘civilizado’ or another Indian, although accusations of sorcery (udjy) against other tribes or groups were usually sufficient to stir the Kayapó to revenge (Turner 1966). Although not a complete typology, this hopefully serves to illustrate that the Kayapó were in contact with Europeans and European diseases – both directly and indirectly – in a variety of ways long before ‘initial’ contact. A specific epidemiological profile is impossible. Given the oral history of the Kayapó, the model of village and group dispersal, and knowledge of epidemic disease devastation, one can certainly conclude that the aboriginal Kayapó culture was quite different from what was described at ‘first contact’.

Disease and dispersal Since 1977 the author has collected oral tradition about Kayapó society, social structure and concepts of history. Their tradition is laden with examples of fights, fissions and sorcery, most of which were associated with epidemics of diseases (kanê or fever, and jarop ratx or flu).


21

Present-day northern Kayapó groups lived in one ancestral village at the beginning of this century. This village of Pyka-tô-ti (sometimes just called the ‘Great’ or ‘Beautiful Village’, Kri-metx) was said to have had ‘streets’, and so many houses that one could only know one’s relatives and followers of one’s chief. There were two men’s houses, each headed by a ‘strong chief’ (benadjwyrà-ratx) and subdivided into many subgroups with their own chiefs. Complementary female chiefs and organizations mirrored those of the men (Verswijver 1986; Posey 1986b). Figure 2.1A represents the composition of Pyka-tô-ti as a permanent village with trekking groups dispersing to different geographical areas. Pyka-tô-ti was probably intact until about 1900. When all m˜ebêngôkre (the Kayapó autonym) lived in this village, the men would leave the village for six to eight weeks or longer to carry out raids on other Indians or ‘civilizados’ (kub˜en). The men would return to the village with captives, valuable feathers and booty, and with abundant meat for the festivals and ceremonies that inevitably followed (and often prompted) such treks. Pyka-tô-ti would swell with inhabitants during these ceremonial periods, often utilizing structures in all three of its concentric circles. When I visited the Pyka-tô-ti site in 1978, only the outline of the circular village was still visible; the diameter of the outer circle was 1,050 metres. A population of perhaps 3,500 to 5,000 has been estimated (Posey 1979a).17 Due to sorcery (udjy) and disease (kanê), some of the chiefs left the Great Village with their followers to live a short distance away because they feared the spirits (karõn) of the many who had died from disease epidemics: ‘the land had become bad’ (arap pyka punu) and haunted by dangerous spirits (karõn punu). Some of the original population of Pyka-tô-ti remained in the village, however, to maintain their fields. The various dispersed groups returned to the Great Village for some important annual and name-giving ceremonies (see Figure 2.1B). Eventually (probably by 1919), Pyka-tô-ti was totally abandoned. The fission groups formed their own villages, not yet totally separated ceremonially. Kayapó informants explain that various village groups would reconvene at the old village site at appointed times to re-enact jointly the important ceremonies (see Figure 2.1C). Schismatic groups joined together in various combinations, in order to bring together the scattered specialists necessary for the effecting of complex rituals (see Figure 2.1D).18 Finally, by the time Horace Banner had contacted the Gorotire Kayapó group in 1936, the village had broken up completely and dispersed into mutually hostile subgroups scattered in various directions from the ancestral Pyka-tô-ti (see Figure 2.1E). What he and later ‘sertanistas’ (those who contact Indians) saw was a fragmented and disintegrated remnant of what had until recently been a populous, highly organized aboriginal society. Banner spoke fluent Kayapó and understood the chaotic state of ‘his’ Indians. His journals are filled with numerous accounts of intergroup raids, counter-raids, fear and preparation for raids. Numerous massacres of reprisal for death from illness ‘caused’ by rival lineage or village groups

22

Kayapó history and culture A Main village intact and organized under 'strong' chiefs, with numerous trekking group (a, b, c, d, e, f, g) under subchiefs. g a

f e

b c

d

B the main village remains permanently occupied. Some subgroups, however, have formed separate villages (a,c,e) and return to the ancestral village for ceremonial purposes only. g a

f

b

e c

d

C The main village is abandoned, except for periodic reunions of some subgroups for ceremonial purposes. g f

a

e

b

c

d

D The ancestral village is totally abandoned. Certain subgroups reunite temporarily for ceremonial purposes at other sites. g f

a

e

b

c

d

E Village subgroups disperse and mutual hostility prevents reunions. Further fission occurs (h, i, j, k, l, m).

g f a e d

b c

Figure 2.1 Model of village fission of the Northern Kayapó.


23

reinforced anxiety of hostility from former neighbours and ceremonial compatriots.19 Apprehension of reprisals continues today, as two or three groups of ‘non-contacted’ Kayapó still flee their ‘pacified’ relatives for fear of these old hostilities. The principal force that led to the disintegration of traditional Kayapó society was European disease. Surges of disease and mortality in a Kayapó village, such as Gorotire, still lead to accusations of sorcery (udjy). Turner (1966), Verswijver (1978, 1986) and Bamberger (1967: 35–9) have documented specific cases where individual Kayapó are accused of causing a disease outbreak. The accused must either flee the village with family and loyal relatives or face being killed. If one insists on innocence, then the accused and perhaps his extended kin group may choose to fight (aben tàk) the accuser, and the accuser’s extended kin. The losers in this dramatic, stylized, and deadly serious battle must leave the village. Thus major chunks of a village population were split due to accusations of udjy and fled from their hostile home village. An important cultural mechanism that affects site occupation is fear of spirits (karõn). The Kayapó traditionally abandon a house if multiple deaths occur during a short period of time.20 An entire village site will be abandoned if many deaths occur as, for example, during an epidemic. Village, missionary and Indian bureau records show that a death rate of 60 per cent or more was common in Kayapó populations after settlement onto Indian posts. Dispersal in the wake of epidemics is a very adaptive mechanism for social animals. Frequently we fail to recognize this in human populations because we do not understand the cultural mechanism for such dispersal. With the Kayapó, however, the evidence is convincing as shown by this model of fission. Increased intragroup hostility occurred after disintegration of Pyka-tô-ti, making the Kayapó appear much more hostile and warlike to outsiders than they in fact had been prior to their decimation by epidemics. Older survivors today remember Pyka-tô-ti and speak of days before there was much sickness, when the Kayapó lived in peace with their neighbours. Today, they feel shame (piá àm) because of deaths due to warfare and intergroup hostility.21

Conclusion Aboriginal population densities have been considerably underestimated because of scholars’ failures to properly assess the effect of European diseases on Amerindian peoples. Likewise assumptions that observations made at ‘initial contact’ reflect Indian societies unaffected by European influence ignore the various ways through which foreign trade items and diseases can anticipate face-to-face contact. For the Kayapó, European artefacts and epidemics arrived decades before the first missionaries made their first observations. Trade networks, warfare, raids, missionaries and explorers all introduce elements of change into the hinterlands. Indirect, intermediate and direct contact in the Amazon Basin are the basis for a typology of contact perhaps generalizable to other parts of the Americas.

24


Oral tradition, historical documents and archaeological remains combine to provide a model for cultural disintegration. Rapid depopulation due to epidemics thrust the Kayapó society into chaos. Political structures disintegrated, social rules collapsed, and ceremonial life disappeared as death took away knowledgeable elders with specialized ceremonial roles. The ancient village of Pyka-tô-ti fragmented through various stages into mutually hostile groups. Accusations of witchcraft flourished because of unexplainable deaths from unknown diseases and created enemies from neighbours. Beliefs in spirits led to abandonment of houses or whole villages due to spiritual contamination by the dead. The Kayapó thus appeared to outsiders unaccustomed to Kayapó history and culture (and with few communication skills to learn otherwise) to be unduly warlike and nomadic. This skewed impression of their true ‘aboriginal nature’ has coloured perceptions of the Kayapó and other indigenous peoples ever since. We will never know the actual indigenous population density of the Americas nor the true nature of aboriginal societies, but a more accurate picture of preColombian America is possible. We must dismiss the misconception that ‘initial contact’ accounts reflect pristine aboriginal populations and be prepared to reevaluate historical and ethnographical accounts to reflect Indian societies already in the throes of societal devastation and chaos.

Chapter 3

Environmental and social implications of pre- and postcontact situations on Brazilian Indians 1

Modern indigenous societies probably bear little resemblance to their pre-contact antecedents. Drastic depopulation due to European diseases and dominance left only remnants of aboriginal societies. The Northern Kayapó, for example, once lived in large villages with a complex age-grade and lineage organization. As a result of epidemics prior to first recorded face-to-face ‘contact’ with the whites, large groups split into small, dispersed villages. This dispersion had significant effects on regional flora and fauna, as well as provoking major social changes. Since many of these modifications are recent, old village sites can still be located and excavated, thereby giving unique opportunities to combine ethnohistory, archaeology, ethnography and ethnoecology to trace and document dramatic changes in indigenous populations during the transition from pre- to post-contact times. The Kayapó case provides an excellent opportunity to test many of the theories that are proposed for a new Amazonian synthesis.

Impact of dispersion and deculturation Sociocultural reduction The dispersal of Kayapó groups led to the immediate collapse of the traditional ngà-be (East-West Men’s House) system. Two benadjwyrà-ratx (great chiefs) were inadequate to coordinate the several scattered subgroups, leaving former subchiefs to assume responsibility. Since the break up of Pyka-tô-ti, the Kayapó have not been able to establish a single village with both Men’s Houses, or agree upon who, in modern times, should be the benadjwyrà-ratx. Individual villages were associated with either the Eastern or Western ngà-be, except for Gorotire which became an ‘attraction post’ (posto de atraição) or FUNAI post to entice Kayapó groups to make peaceful contact with the whites. Gorotire became filled with representatives of all the Kayapó subgroups and, consequently, became a microcosm of Kayapó beliefs and practices. A single Men’s House was established in Gorotire, but, in fact, its members come from both Eastern and Western traditions. This can be illustrated by the burial practices of peoples from the different Men’s Houses. The Eastern House buries with the head

26


facing east; the Western House buries facing west. In Gorotire, however, burials occur in both orientations (Kwyrà-kà Kayapó, personal communication). As a result of its diverse mixture, Gorotire shows great variations in the myths, songs, stories and rituals that are presented in the village. Debates over which version is the djyjarejn kumrenx (true tradition) are frequent. These variations reflect the special knowledge held by individuals and family groups that, at the time of break up, were differentially distributed by chance and historical occurrences. Kayapó ceremonies and festivals are characterized by the complex integration of many specialized ritual parts ‘owned’ by nekrêx (inheritance groups) (Lea 1988). If the nekrêx is without a representative in any given village, the festival that requires that specialized missing part cannot be performed. In some cases, entire festivals have died out due to lack of surviving ritual specialists to perform essential parts. The We-we (butterfly) Festival is such an example. Kayapó elders can name many festivals that are no longer practised for this reason. Thus, dispersal of Kayapó groups led to a reduction of festivals due to the lack of a critical mass and necessary ritual specialists to carry out the ceremonies. The same process must have occurred in other areas of knowledge and practice, resulting in cultural fragmentation and reduction. One can speculate on the preponderance of Bep names as one possible example of this reduction process. Bep names are given during the Bemp Festival and were once thought to be the highest status names of the Kayapó. But while other naming ceremonies became more difficult or impossible to perform, Bemp remained relatively easy to perform due to the survival of Bemp ‘knowers’. As a result, the name Bep is now very common, and, although it is still considered a idjy mex (Beautiful Name), it no longer connotes such a high status. The clearest evidence of knowledge reduction is with Kayapó shamans and traditional medicine knowers. They have special powers and deal with physical and spiritual illnesses (Chapters 6 and 14). Most of the wayanga kumrenx (true shamans) died or were killed due to epidemics and inter- or intragroup fights. In their place came the apprentices, ‘weak’ shamans, and those with little experience. By default, the title of ‘wayanga’ fell onto those who in past generations would have been considered unprepared, or undesirable, for such an important role. The deculturation/disintegration process stimulated the appearance of many m˜ekute-pidjà-mari (plant knowers), who do not claim to deal with spirits, but only with the curative properties of certain plants. These ‘knowers’ specialize in certain families of plants (Chapters 6 and 14) and the diseases they cure. In the village of Gorotire, over 25 per cent of the population claims to be a m˜ekutepidjà-mari. One can hypothesize that the abundance of such specialists was stimulated by the loss of ‘true shamans’ and, as a result, loss of medical advice during a time of increased illness. Contact with FUNAI and missionaries provoked other changes that resulted in the creation of alternative social structures and loss of traditional Kayapó ways. In Gorotire, for example, the mission church has its own organization centred

Environmental and social implications

27

around the Indian pastor and church leaders. The church structure sometimes competes with the chiefs for power, attention and resources, creating conflict between the Crentes (Christians) and the rest of the community. On two occasions over the past 50 years, the missionaries have been expelled from Gorotire, always to be invited back because of their access to merchandise, transport and medicines. The Brazilian FUNAI has favoured male leaders as the spokespersons for the villages. Consequently, female chiefs have disappeared and those males that speak Portuguese have climbed to positions of greatest importance. Most modern male chiefs do not even know the ceremonial language, or ben, for which their office was named m˜eb˜enjadw`yra, or ‘giver of the ben’. Both the missionaries and FUNAI encouraged the Kayapó to wear clothes. But Kayapó themselves decided to abandon some of their most characteristic traditions, such as the amuh m˜etôrô (Wasp Dance), in which warriors are repeatedly stung by wasps during a ceremonial ‘fight’. The tep djwa (fish tooth), a gourd paddle embedded with very sharp fish teeth and used for scarification of young boys who misbehaved, was also discarded. Use of large ear spools and lip plugs also died out. All of these losses were due to the same reason: the Kayapó felt piá àm (ashamed) of such practices because of the way they were viewed by the whites. Nomadic agriculture With the dispersal of Kayapó subgroups, useful biological species and natural resource management strategies also spread. Agricultural plots could be maintained for permanent and semi-permanent villages like Pyka-tô-ti, but nomadic groups depend more heavily upon other types of management such as trailside plantings and ‘forest fields’. Trail systems were extensive in the Kayapó area, and their margins served as areas for planting, transplanting and spreading numerous semi-domesticated plant species used for food, medicine, building materials, dyes, scents, insect repellents and so on. Forest fields were made either by felling large trees in the forest or by utilizing bà-krêti (natural forest openings) into which seeds, cuttings, seedlings and tubers of useful species were introduced. These concentrations of useful resources required little or no human care after planting. Special ‘war gardens’ (usually known as krãi kam puru) were planted in forested hills near trails, villages or campsites (Gottsberger and Posey, in preparation; Posey 1983c, 1985b). These secret gardens not only served as emergency sources for food, but also as germplasm banks where stocks of useful species could always be found if necessary. The strategy of producing hidden ‘resource islands’ extended to the production of apêtê, or islands of resources in the campo-cerrado (Anderson and Posey 1987, 1989; Posey and Gottsberger, in preparation). Apêtê were produced by introducing colonizing plants into small mounds of enriched planting material in the savanna. These plantings grew and were further moulded to provide forest ‘islands’ filled with requisite species for human and animal survival.

28


Trailside plantings, forest fields, war gardens and apêtê form part of an ancient Kayapó ‘nomadic agriculture’ system (Posey 1983c, 1985b). The system allowed warriors to have food sources during long treks and war raids. Other Kayapó used them on extended family treks and during journeys to distant villages. This system gave the Kayapó needed flexibility during periods when agricultural plots were abandoned or inaccessible due to enemy activity. As soon as feasible, Kayapó groups would re-establish their regular agricultural plots. As long as intra- and intergroup raids existed, however, dependence on agriculture remained difficult. The prevalence of puru (fields) probably shrunk and grew as a function of warfare and peace. Today, with no open hostilities remaining, ‘nomadic agriculture’ has been all but abandoned: only a few older people can describe the system in detail. In contrast, agriculture is flourishing in all Kayapó villages. Ecological and biological consequences Dispersal of Kayapó groups meant the dispersal of domesticated and semidomesticated species traditionally exploited by the Kayapó (for a partial list see Posey 1984c; Anderson and Posey 1985; Posey and Gottsberger, in preparation). Possibly, with the greater range of the Kayapó groups, the number of varieties or species drastically increased as new plants were encountered. Certainly many varieties traditionally used by different family groups were carried wherever its members went. Informant Kwyrà-kà told of his treks between the Araguaia and Tapajós Rivers as a young warrior. He described a special basket used by the old men to carry roots, seeds and cuttings for planting along the trails or at home villages. Transportation of germplasm was one of the major functions of any trek; tribal elders alone were entrusted with this important task. Near Gorotire village, Anderson and Posey (1985, 1989) found that useful species from an area the size of Western Europe had been concentrated into a tenhectare apêtê study area. In recent years, Chief Pombo (Tut) was seen many times wandering off into the old fields and apêtê of Gorotire to snatch up cuttings for his new village downstream. Plants remain one of the most common gifts exchanged between Kayapó visitors from different villages. Establishment of new villages always means the establishment of a stock of necessary plants from the parent villages. Cognitive maps by Kayapó informants show that brazil nut, babaçu, açaí and bacaba groves are associated with ancestral villages and campsites. Planting these trees is part of an ancient tradition and often marks sites of human occupation. Such trees are but a few of the most easily recognizable markers of habitation sites. Shaman Beptopoop took an English film crew and me to film old village sites near Conceição do Araguaya in 1988.2 He had little difficulty locating the sites by interpreting the vegetation, though the sites had been abandoned for approximately 50 years. Archaeobotany has been under-utilized by scientists to locate, characterize and interpret prehistoric and historic Indian sites. Yet, in most


29

cases, diagnostic plants can be identified easily by informants and surveyed with traditional botanical collection methods. Aerial, or even satellite, images can also be used once the botanical diagnostic profile has been completed for old village, camp and field sites. As periodically used campsites turned into permanent villages, forest areas used for agriculture also began to be transformed into ibe (old fields). Old fields are important links in the overall Kayapó management process, since they are filled with semi-domesticated species as well as animals that are attracted to their low, bushy vegetation. Ibe are difficult to detect except by the trained eye and are frequently confused with ‘natural forest’. Probably much of what has been considered ‘natural’ in the Amazon is, in fact, modified by prehistorical and historical Amerind populations (Posey 1985b; Balée 1989a, 1989b). Although some efforts have been made to map and locate secondary growth and old fields with satellite imagery, little published data is available. Likewise, soil management methods led to improvements in agricultural soils and the formation of ‘terra preta dos índios’. The extensive accumulation of these rich, anthropogenic soils (anthrosols) is most important along the banks of the Amazon River (Smith 1980). Similar processes also occurred in interfluvial areas, such as with the Kayapó (Hecht and Posey 1989, 1990). As scattered villages grew and peace allowed for the flourishing of agricultural activities, more land came under cultivation and consequently more soils were affected.

The past meets the future: steps to the new synthesis A new scientific synthesis Given the richness of oral tradition and memory of elders who actually lived in old villages such as Pyka-tô-ti, the Kayapó offer a unique opportunity to compare oral tradition with archaeological and ethnobiological information. Since 1982, the Kayapó Project has accumulated extensive data on ethnobiological aspects of Kayapó culture, including extensive soil, botanical and zoological collections. Ethnoecological, ethnopedological, ethnomedical, ethnopharmacological and agricultural studies, as well as classic sociopolitical research, make the Kayapó one of the best documented Amazonian indigenous groups. It is, therefore, possible to correlate archaeological theory and subsistence models with living and historic populations. For example, comparative soil analyses can show how modern soil modifications led to the formation of ‘terra preta dos índios’. Likewise, old camp and village sites, as well as trail systems, can be mapped and located using living informants, and checked with botanical indicator species also provided by the Kayapó. In some cases, myth and legend can be correlated with historical events to provide ethnohistorical markers. For example, the Kayapó myth of the origin of agriculture offers a unique opportunity to correlate celestial markers with actual astronomical dates. According to the myth, agriculture was given to the ancestors

30


by the daughter of the rain, Nhak-pôk-ti, represented by the planet Venus. This event occurred when Venus appeared in the midday sky during a total eclipse of the sun. The exact position is recorded as being in the south-east quadrant of an area defined by the east-west path of the sun and moon, cut at approximately a 90-degree angle by the Milky Way. Using astronomical data, it is possible to calculate dates in the past when this event could have occurred (Campos and Posey 1990). This date, in turn, can be correlated with archaeological evidence from the actual site. A new scientific synthesis for Amazonia depends upon interdisciplinary research and, in turn, the correlation of that research with oral tradition and actual ethnographic practice. A new indigenous synthesis The Kayapó themselves are trying to reconstruct and restructure their own society. They still speak frequently about the building of a kri-metx with two Men’s Houses. There is a great desire to build up the Kayapó population to compensate for losses during the decades of epidemics and warfare. Two recent events show how the old structures of Kayapó society have been adapted for modern use: the first was in 1988 during the demonstration of Kayapó warriors against the prosecution of two of their chiefs, who had gone to the World Bank to oppose construction of dams on their Xingu River lands (cf. Chapter 4). Traditional war oratory and dances were used by the demonstrators as they closed some of the main arteries in Belém, the regional capital. Representatives of most Kayapó subgroups were present and were organized with remarkable precision and control under village leaders and special war chiefs. The event showed how the Kayapó were not only capable of effectively reintegrating their society, but also of adapting their organization and culture to manipulate the mass media that covered the demonstration. Shortly thereafter (February 1989), an even larger media event was held in Altamira, Pará, the proposed site of the dams. The ‘Altamira Encounter’ was one of the most significant events in the history of the environmental and indigenous movements. The Kayapó were able to mobilize representatives of many indigenous peoples from all over the Americas to discuss with human rights and environmental leaders a unified strategy to protect natural ecosystems and native peoples (Posey 1989a, 1989b). For the Kayapó themselves, it was the first time that so many from dispersed groups were able to meet peacefully together. It was, in a sense, a modern recreation of Pyka-tô-ti. After so many decades of separation and differences, it was amazing to see how easily and efficiently the subgroups could reintegrate to form a unified and highly organized social event. The complex model of Pyka-tô-ti organization had been long abandoned, but not in the least forgotten.


31

Conclusion Aboriginal population densities have been considerably underestimated because of failures to assess properly the effect of European diseases on Amerindian peoples. Likewise assumptions that observations made at ‘initial contact’ reflect Indian societies unaffected by European influence ignore the various effects that foreign trade items and diseases can have prior to face-to-face contact. For the Northern Kayapó, European artefacts and epidemics arrived decades (if not centuries) before missionaries made their first observations. Trade networks, warfare, raids, missionaries and explorers all introduced elements of change into the hinterlands (see previous chapter). Indirect, intermediate and direct contact in the Amazon Basin form a typology of contact perhaps generally applicable to other parts of the Americas. Oral tradition, historical documents and archaeological remains combine to provide a model for cultural disintegration and reintegration. Rapid depopulation due to epidemics thrust the Kayapó society into chaos. Political structures disintegrated, social rules collapsed, and ceremonial life disappeared as death took away knowledgeable elders with specialized ceremonial roles. The ancient village of Pyka-tô-ti fragmented through various stages into mutually hostile groups. Accusations of witchcraft flourished because of unexplainable deaths from unknown diseases and created enemies from neighbours; beliefs in spirits led to abandonment of houses or whole villages due to spiritual contamination by the dead. The Kayapó thus appeared to outsiders, unaccustomed to Kayapó history and culture, to be unduly warlike and nomadic. This skewed impression has coloured perceptions of the Kayapó and other indigenous peoples ever since. Cultural degradation led to the disappearance of ‘true’ shamans and the rise of many ‘weak’ shamans and ‘plant knowers’ who appeared to fill a needed gap in medical care. Similar reductions occurred in other areas of ceremonial and cultural knowledge. Agriculture was less evident in the direct contact period due to increased nomadic warfare activity. A much greater dependence on ‘semi-domesticated’ products of ‘nomadic agriculture’ was necessary. These products escaped European eyes because they fell between the paradigms of hunters-gatherers and agriculturalists, leaving the scientific data inadequate for the evaluation of indigenous diet. ‘War gardens’, ‘forest fields’, trailsides and apêtê went unnoticed, since they fell outside the Western concept of natural resource management. Consequently, many areas of Amazonia considered to be ‘natural’ are probably products of aboriginal and historic human presence. Agricultural plots began to thrive again only when relatively peaceful times were restored. This led to a decreased dependency on semi-domesticated foods and decline of the waradapted ‘nomadic agricultural’ system. It is clear that, although demographic and cultural degradation was rapid and severe, the Kayapó society resisted in remarkably strong ways. Specialized knowledge, elaborate rituals and a complex system of inter- and intragroup organization

32


allowed the Kayapó not only to survive in the whites’ world, but to take a leadership role in it, as the Altamira Encounter proved. A conscious new synthesis of Kayapó society by the Kayapó themselves already includes the abstract notion that they are conservers of nature and that their traditional knowledge is important for the future of Amazonia. Perhaps this means that the Kayapó will be one of the first indigenous groups to work together with scientific specialists to provide the true Amazonian synthesis: one in which Indian knowledge and Western scientific data can be used together to interpret the past, analyse the present and prepare for the future.

Chapter 4

Time, space and the interface of divergent cultures: the Kayapó Indians of the Amazon face the future 1

Introduction The Brazilian Amazon captures much of the mystery of life, not only because of its vastness, complexity of plant and animal species and exotic indigenous peoples, but also because of its impenetrability. It is the last terrestrial frontier that defies modern technology and remains a challenge to the ingenuity of Western society. In the wake of sophisticated and enormous so-called ‘development’ projects for the Amazon lies a lengthy chronology of ecological destruction. It is not just deforestation that has resulted, but irreversible ‘desertification’ and related environmental degradation with which the world must now reckon (Eckholm and Brown 1977; Goodland and Irwin 1975; USDA 1978; USDFA 1980). It has become obvious that there is little option but to re-evaluate the course of ‘progress’ for the Amazon and look for alternative strategies as a basis for future development. The Amazon has popularly been called a ‘counterfeit paradise’ and a ‘green hell’. But to Indians, like the Northern Kayapó, it is ‘just plain home’ and has been for millennia. Aboriginal Indian populations are now believed to have been quite dense, yet minimal environmental destruction resulted from their strategies of exploitation (Dobyns 1966; Denevan 1976). It is in the cultures of the Kayapó and other surviving indigenous peoples that I propose we can find the secrets to new strategies for the reasonable development of the Amazon without the irrevocable destruction of its plants, animals and peoples. The Kayapó Indians of southern Pará and northern Mato Grosso are one of Brazil’s major indigenous groups. The first permanent contact with the Kayapó was not until 1937 (Banner n.d. 1963, 1975).2 Subsequently other Kayapó groups have been settled into villages with a FUNAI (Fundação Nacional do Índio) post and medical services (Verswijver 1978). The tribe remains, however, geographically remote and relatively unacculturated. The Kayapó have been fortunate in this respect, for their understanding of ‘civilizados’ has been allowed to proceed slowly, without the sudden disruption of their ecological and cultural system (Posey 1979b). They remain today a proud people, who flourish because of an ecologically sound and diversified utilization of their Amazonian ecosystem (Bamberger 1967; Posey 1979c).

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Yet huge cattle ranches, plantations and mineral developments are lapping at their very doorstep. The recent Cumarú gold rush and confusion over tribal boundaries has led to cultural conflict, deep resentment and even bloodshed (ARC 1980; Anon 1980).3 There are plans for a road that would cut through their ‘reserva indígena’ and the westward frontier now gnaws at their tribal lands. Suddenly the Kayapó are face-to-face with the unrelenting tentacles of technology and society. The purpose of this essay is to explore briefly the world view of the Kayapó, to reveal their sense of being in the world, and how this world view affects their exploitation of the environment as well as how the Kayapó are disadvantaged in dealing with Western society and technology. Ironically this patently practical matter must be dealt with at the most abstract level of temporal and spatial concepts. I shall argue that it is in the divergent notions of lineal versus non-lineal time and space that the nature of ‘cultural interface’ is revealed most clearly.

On time and space Time for Western civilization is refined to the point of having attributes of a substance or a commodity: we measure it, waste it, consume it, treasure it. Space is inextricably correlated with time, for in our all-encompassing metaphysical plan, space is plotted on two transecting axes in a three-dimensional expanse, the third dimension being formed by the lineal movements of time (Whorf 1950). Time flows from past to present and extends into the future. This lineality allows us to pinpoint events in time and space, and to add the historical dimension upon which technological civilizations evaluate the present and predict the future. Can any of us imagine not saving for the future, not planning ahead, not ‘making hay while the sun shines’. Indeed, our cultural commitment to the lineality of time and space permeates the very fabric of our minds so that we cannot consciously imagine that life could exist without such constructs. After all, our biology, mathematics, physics and history have all validated the canonical laws of our scientific metaphysics. Sorokin pointed out the link between the development of mathematics and lineal time and the emergence of definite social developments connected with urbanization and industrialization (Sorokin 1943). Too few people, however, realize that science itself is a lineal, evolutionary product of classical Western philosophy and cultural traditions. Benjamin Whorf, after studying the Hopi Indians, grasped the nature of a reality not built upon lineal constructs. He wrote: ‘Just as it is possible to have any number of geometrics other than Euclidean which give an equally perfect account of space configurations, so it is possible to have descriptions of the universe, all equally, that do not contain our familiar constructs of time and space’ (Whorf 1950). Beidelman also mused that ‘we should no more be surprised at the alien or exotic features of primitive time reckoning than at the features of other people’s corresponding social organization or religious beliefs’ (Beidelman 1963).

Time, space, and the interface of divergent cultures

35

The Kayapó recognize three types of time, which can be called: 1) ecological time, 2) structural time, and 3) macro-time (Evans-Pritchard 1939). The first two types correspond to our own Western notions of time: 1

2

3

‘Ecological time’ corresponds to the natural yearly ecological and agricultural cycles. For the Kayapó, ecological time is divided into two seasons: the dry season, and the wet season. Further subdivisions are correlated with moon phases and stages of crop maturity (Posey 1979e). ‘Structural time’ is reckoned by human life cycles and is marked by periodic rites of passage. The Kayapó segment their population into six male age grades and five female age grades. Individuals pass from one age grade to another as they grow older and such changes are marked by specific ceremonies at more or less regular time intervals (Vidal 1977; Dreyfus 1963; Bamberger 1976). ‘Macro-time’ brings us to the level of greatest abstraction and cultural divergence. It is at this abstract level that Kayapó notions of time and space drastically diverge from our own. To the Western mind, time is a precisely defined unit that can be measured in seconds, milliseconds, or even microseconds. But at this level of abstraction, for the Kayapó neither time nor space is measurable, or even definable. They become forces that are dynamic rather than cinematic, i.e. erupting and emerging manifestations of dynamic energy with no definite direction or unified motion. The integrity of time and space disappears, or rather blends, into a motion that is without defined direction, yet eternal and omnipresent (Lukesch 1976; Wilbert 1978).4 I have labelled this realm of time and space as being maximally abstract, yet to the Kayapó this dimension is vibrant, scintillating, and shimmering with the mysterious energy of all that is life. This realm is at the very essence of all that was, is now, or will be Kayapó (Lukesch 1978; Wilbert 1978; Vidal 1977; Posey 1982d).5 Portions of this dynamic force are encapsulated as spirits of all living things. The Kayapó see themselves as an integral part of a world, whose natural components are all manifestations of the same energy. Not just people have spirits (karõn), but animals do as well, and plants act as balancing agents between these two spiritual realms. For this reason, the Kayapó have a profound respect for nature. Indeed, the health and well-being of individual and tribe is viewed as a proper ‘balance’ between all natural forces (Lukesch 1976).6

The balance between the various encapsulated ‘spirits’ of nature is symbolized by the circle (see Figure 4.1). The universe is described in myths as being circular, with floating parallel disks forming layers of the universe circumscribed by the greater outer circle (Lukesch 1976; Wilbert 1978). One of the parallel disks is the earth, which is likewise divided into concentric rings, the Men’s House (ngà) being the centre of the circle, surrounded by the village, a transition zone, the forest and the outermost circle being the area of non-Indians (Snyder 1964; T. Turner 1965; Bamberger 1967) (see Figure 4.2).

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Figure 4.1 Kayapó model of the world showing parallel earth and sky disks in a circular universe.

Figure 4.2 Spatial model of the Kayapó world.The centre (ipôkre) is the Men’s Mouse (ngà); houses (kikrê) are the domain of less socialized women; the transitional zone (atúkma) delineates the social space of the village from the unsocialized forest (bà).

Kayapó villages, with their great circular rings of matrilateral extended households, are social manifestations of the circle (Vidal 1977; da Matta 1976) (see Figure 4.3). Hunting treks proceed in circular paths; hunting camps are arranged around circular sleeping and dancing areas. Kayapó fields are also circular niches carved out of the dense plant and animal realm of the jungle (Vidal 1977;


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Figure 4.3 The idealized Kayapó village (kri-metx).

Bamberger 1967; Posey 1979c).7 Graves and graveyards are also circular.8 It has even been argued that the Kayapó social structure and kinship orders are circular in their organization (T. Turner 1965, 1979: 180–1, 190). Thus the circle encompasses a definite reality and represents the cyclical essence of encapsulated units of time and space. The principal natural manifestations of the circle are the sun and moon. The sun is circular and is believed to travel in a circular path across the earth, then up and around the sky layer above in order to reappear the next day (see Figure 4.1). The moon travels on the same path, and the phases of the moon are images of the

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abstract forces that compose time and space, for the moon itself changes and even seems to disappear, but nonetheless remains the moon (Wilbert 1978). To the Kayapó, a human being is an illusion much like the moon. Each Kayapó has a human form or body (h˜i-krã-kà), but the encapsulated energy that makes the body living is in the form of a circular ball (kadáwanh). The body only holds the spherical spirit, which is tenuously bound to its container. During periods of unconsciousness due to illness or injury, the spirit has a tendency to leave the body and wander about. While the spirit is outside the body, other spirits can invade the body or, if the spirit is lost, the body will die (Vidal 1977: 210–11). Thus out-of-body experiences are risky and frightening to most Kayapó. Shamans are called in during these periods of unconsciousness because they are experts on out-of-body experience. To become a shaman, in fact, the spirit must leave the body and pass through a severe illness (always characterized by ‘strong’ fevers, kanê tytx) and find its way to the spiritual realm that is the core of dynamic energy. The shaman’s spirit learns many secrets about the nature of the relationship between the world of the living and the spiritual world. When the spirit of the shaman returns from its journey and re-enters the body, the shaman is reborn as a wise man who knows much about the universe (Posey 1982d).9 Shamans are experts on tribal rituals and ceremonies because these communal events focus the activities of other Kayapó toward understanding the spiritual realm known to the shaman. Ceremonies become the link between the cyclical world of the Kayapó and the dynamic, timeless-spaceless spiritual realm. The Kayapó have an elaborate and complex ceremonial repertoire. Ceremony is a raison d’être for the Kayapó, for they believe that without the performance of the prescribed rituals, the world would collapse: crops would not grow, children would not be born, the sun and moon would cease to travel across the sky. Ceremonies are what maintain the balance of nature and are essential to generate the energy necessary to continue the ecological and structural time cycles. An important mechanism for producing this energy is through dancing, always accompanied by singing. Men are the principal dancers and singers. They dance in pairs, following a circular path around the village plaza, or arm-in-arm swaying back and forth in circular or semi-circular lines. The dance steps are simple and the music monotonous and repetitive to the Western ear, yet harmonious and vaguely melodic (Dreyfus 1963). Singing and dancing often begin at sundown and continue until sunrise, sometimes extending for seven or more consecutive nights (Turner 1965).10 The combination of little sleep, and methodical, repetitious metre and tone of the music often leads participants into ‘elevated states of being’ (consciousness) (Hillgard 1977; Golliher 1981).11 It is during these elevated states that many Kayapó become aware of the non-lineal realm of dynamic power that unifies all time and space, and links the cycles of ecological and structural time with the centre of Kayapó non-lineal being.12 These experiences serve like a series of plugs that tap into a central power source to carry energy to the rituals, whose purpose is to ensure the cyclical movement of time. This energy is transferred, or


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is manifest, symbolically, through sexual intercourse. Intercourse is almost always associated with ceremonial activity (Posey 1979b), and is often actually incorporated directly into the ritual itself (T. Turner 1965). The Kayapó believe that strong children are born because of multiple sexual experiences. Even when pregnancy is well-advanced, intercourse continues to ensure the growth of a healthy foetus (Bamberger 1967; Dreyfus 1963). Women say they rarely experience elevated states through dance or music, but do so during childbirth. This is highly symbolic since the altered state experience is a direct tie between the dynamic realm of being and the encapsulating birth event. Death becomes nothing more than the return of a spirit to the dynamic realm. Birth and death, therefore, are really much the same since they merely represent structural transition between the cyclical world of the living Kayapó and the nonlineal dynamic realm of all being. It is little wonder that spirits of the dead are often encountered during elevated state experiences. The average Kayapó, however, is extremely frightened of such encounters. These spirits are potentially harmful since they can inhabit one’s body permanently while one’s own spirit is temporarily separated from the body during ritual dancing or illness (Lukesch 1976). Spirit forms are dealt with by shamans. Shamans have the ability to go into ‘deeper’ or ‘stronger’ elevated (or altered)13 states of consciousness, and they are powerful enough to do so alone (i.e. without the necessary group rituals) and at any time they choose. They are able to manipulate the encapsulated human or animal spirits to cause or cure illness, talk to the spirits of the dead, or foretell the future. Shamans are the principal keepers of ritual knowledge and secrets: they are the specialists who know how to perform the essential rites that perpetuate the cycles of the Kayapó world. They manipulate the highly ordered rituals to induce elevated states, and are embodiments of the relationships between lineally segmented cycles and the non-lineal realm of time and space. What relationship does this esoteric topic have with the practical world of the Kayapó? That is, how does the Kayapó view of time and space affect their chances for survival in the face of encroaching Western civilization? Because of their belief in a timeless-spaceless, perpetual realm of dynamic force, the Kayapó appear to have little concern for the protracted future. They have little interest in ‘saving’, ‘storing’ or ‘guarding’. They are greatly disadvantaged because of the lineal constructs of our mathematics and science, have no use for interpreting two-dimensional drawings, are puzzled by maps, find no reason to count past eight, and find no logic in earning wages or being punctual. Since their ultimate concept of space is also one with no definite limits, they have conflicting notions of private space and do not adhere to basic Western tenets of individual land ownership. They do not operate with a concept of money, have no laws concerning land purchase, and find as alien the relationship between land boundaries and individual social rights. More seriously, they do not understand the underlying concepts of development and progress that are so basic to the cultures they combat. They do not see themselves apart from the rest of the natural world, and, therefore, see no reason

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to develop strategies to subdue it. They are not on a lineal course through time and space that will, with the proper sacrifice and perseverance, make them masters over nature. The Kayapó live in a circular, cyclical world, whose ideals are harmony and balance. Man, along with plants and animals, are manifestations of encapsulated units of the same energy. The world changes, but dynamically, not cinematically. All life is inextricably interrelated and exploitation by man of other life forms must not take place at the cost of the natural balance. This cyclical view is paradoxically the ultimate in long-range ecological planning, for the Kayapó system operates to ensure that there will be air, water, animals, trees and sources of energy for the future.

Conclusion The interface between Western and Kayapó Indian cultures seems to be in the concept of ‘macro-time’. This maximally abstract level of world view is expressed through divergent notions of time and space. Western technological society places high value on a metaphysical model that allows for a lineal progression of time from a definite past into a hypothetical, but manipulatable, future. Upon these basic principles rest the charter for the expansion of modern technology. Expansion has proceeded in recent decades at incredibly rapid rates in places like the Brazilian Amazon due to an abundance of natural resources. This ‘progress’ has occurred, however, at the expense of environmental stability and threatens the future of the Amazon, indigenous peoples like the Kayapó, and perhaps the ecological balance of the entire world. The Kayapó see the processes of the universe and life as cyclical. Plants, animals and people are all manifestations of the same dynamic energy. The Kayapó strive for a harmony with other elements of the universe and sickness occurs when the balance between man and nature is upset. The overall balance between natural forces is maintained by performance of a complex cycle of rituals and ceremonies. These include singing and dancing and involve all Kayapó. Each individual, therefore, is directly involved in maintaining the harmony of life, and is an agent in the perpetuation of ecological stability and the well-being of self and society. Higher levels of abstraction for the Kayapó are in the spiritual world rather than in planning for a lineal future. The shamans are the intellectual leaders and are the ritual specialists specifically concerned with orchestrating the maintenance of balance in the cyclical Kayapó world. Thus Kayapó leaders are not chartered to direct the exploitation of natural resources, but rather to manage and maintain them. The Kayapó world view is ultimately a model for long-range ecological planning since it is based upon the preservation of species and natural resources. Indigenous systems of ecology, like that of the Kayapó, have evolved through mil-


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lennia of adaptation and experimentation and form a valuable human resource. The study of folk ecological systems (which I call ‘folk ecology’) offers important sources of information about the Amazon and long-range strategies for human survival.

Epilogue As Western technological society begins to face the world-wide shortage of natural resources, it is being forced to redefine its own basic constructs of time and space. Mushrooming social problems, overpopulation and famine, scarcity of land, water, minerals and even oxygen, leave little choice but to re-evaluate the social consequences of ‘progress’, ‘development’ and ‘expansion’. The theories of Western ecology that emerged in the 1960s offered an intellectual basis for ‘a new balance’ between man, his technology and nature. There is now a popularized thrust to re-establish man as an integral part of the natural world. Could it be that only now modern society is coming to grips with a natural reality that the Kayapó discovered millennia ago? The Kayapó may not be well adapted to survival in the short-range future against encroaching Western civilization, but one can only wonder if what they do know about the universe is not central to the future longterm survival of humanity. The stakes are high, not only for the indigenous populations that remain and are threatened with extinction, but for the whole of humanity. It seems inconceivable that we could lose for ever the knowledge of the environment and working systems of ecology that are encompassed in each and every indigenous culture. Yet one by one these indigenous cultural and philosophical systems have disappeared until now, in the decade of the 1980s, the world is left with but a precious handful of indigenous peoples. The wisdom of millennia of acquired human experience in the Amazon is vanishing before the world’s eyes, paradoxically at the very time when the future is at best dubious for now dominant Western technological society. Brazil is fortunate in her endowment with this richness of natural and human resources. Hopefully the upcoming decades will provide an avenue of mutual respect such that indigenous peoples can interact with the national culture without the destruction of the former and to the benefit of the human struggle for survival.

Chapter 5

The Kayapó origin of night 1

Folk literature of the Kayapó, like that of other Jê-speaking tribes, is rich and diverse. Certain stories and songs belong to specific families or lineages and are inherited (nekrêtch), but most are part of the public domain and are told by the Kayapó in public places. The truly public folk literature is generally recited by the men in the famed Kayapó Men’s House (ngá) (Lukesch 1976; Vidal 1977; Wilbert 1978). Animated oratory is commonplace and great prestige is attached to those who can recite the traditional stories with finesse and style. The following narrative was recorded (transcribed from a tape) at Posto Gorotire, the largest of the Northern Kayapó villages, on 8 July 1978. It was related in the Men’s House and in the presence of several (six or eight) mebegnet (men of the senior or elder age grade) by Beptopoop, also a mebegnet and a shaman. It is a favourite story to be told to children by older men, but is one of the central Kayapó myths and can be heard in many cultural contexts (Banner 1957).

The Kayapó Origin of Night Long ago there was only daylight. There was only daylight; darkness was not. Then a boy, maybe an Indian [but an enemy], the son of Nhyborway, called Joipekrõ, was captured. He was captured and brought to here, where there was only daylight. Everyone was suspicious of one another because in daylight no one could go about with another’s wife. So Joipekrõ said, ‘You listen to me. You should not lie to one another. You should not be suspicious of one another. Someone should go to my father, Nhyborway; he has darkness. Bring back some night from his house. Far away my father’s land has darkness. ‘Is that so?’ someone asks. ‘Yes. It is true. There is real darkness. My father knows about darkness /night.’

The Kayapó origin of night

They knew [had heard] there was a keeper of night. [So they believed Joipekrõ.] Joipekrõ told them about the path to his father’s house. ‘Far away on the road are many worthless people [non-Indians]. I will tell you all about them. You just keep on the road to my father’s house. My father has put darkness in a gourd. He keeps darkness in a large gourd in his house. He will give you some when you arrive. You can take out some darkness and you can sleep in it. Listen to me. There are many worthless people on the road: the buzzard people, the big-throat people, the penis-belt people, the ibis people. Just ask them the way. The worthless people will show you the way.’ So they went to seek the road to Nhyborway’s. The worthless people showed them the main path and kept them from following the side [wrong] paths. It was nearly dark when they arrived. It was dusk; it was just getting dark; it was the edge of darkness. It was almost dark. So they called to Nhyborway. ‘What?’ he answered. They called to him again: ‘Nhyborway!’ Again he answered: ‘Where is my child? What have you done with my child? Where is Joipekrõ?’ ‘Your child is away, far away, in our land. We are following your child’s directions.’ ‘Come here and tell me about my son. Is he still alive? I miss him. Bring him to me,’ [says Nhyborway]. [Someone replies] ‘Far away your child is alive and with us [our people].’ ‘Why didn’t you bring my child to see me? Long ago they took my child. I still miss him.’ ‘Well, I’ll tell you about your child, Nhyborway. Joipekrõ sent us here and we have arrived.’ Just hearing the name of his son caused him [Nhyborway] to wail. ‘Your son spoke to us about your darkness. We have come for it. We want to take it to our land and sleep in it. In our land, way over there, there is just light. In only light we sleep and wake up. There is not darkness at all.’ ‘I will give you darkness to take to my child,’ [said Nhyborway]. ‘You must not touch it! There is something bad in it that will hurt you. It stings. No, you must not touch it! You must take it to my child; he will take it out so it will not sting. No, do not touch it!’ They spoke nicely to Nhyborway [to show that they agreed with his instructions], but they lied. They did not speak the truth to Nhyborway; ‘No, no, no, we will not take out the darkness; we will not touch it. Only your child, Joipekrõ, will take it out.’

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They went back on the path to their land. They returned with the gourd filled with darkness. Nhyborway had filled the gourd with darkness. They carried it back to Joipekrõ. They slept in the light and awoke and went on and on. They went again and slept in the light and awoke and went on. They had nearly arrived at the village. Then one who spoke falsely said: ‘Oh! What are we taking this darkness back for. We must take some out now and sleep in it!’ ‘No!’ [replied the truthful ones]. ‘There’s something bad that hurts in the darkness.’ ‘That is a lie. It is not true,’ [answered the untruthful one]. ‘No, we will break it open and ruin the darkness. It will hurt us.’ ‘It is a lie.’ Our ancestors always had those who spoke falsely. Always, even long ago, our ancestors spoke unreliably. The wicked, unreliable one untied the gourd. Immediately there was darkness. He was frightened and threw the gourd far away. The darkness escaped. They could not put it back into the gourd. A scorpion escaped too and stung him. He cried aloud in great pain. ‘Do away with him,’ [someone of them said]. ‘He let out the darkness and turned out the scorpions to hurt us. Do away with him. Cast him away!’ Someone went to him, took his arm, and threw him out. He was thrown up and became a bird. He became the night hawk that cries like one in pain. He became the night hawk that brings evil and pain. His call is not like other birds. He [the unreliable man] only wanted a little darkness, but it all escaped. He was untruthful and brought the sting of the scorpion to us. Look! That is the story. It is an old story. It is a story of our ancestors, who wanted to sleep in the darkness. Nhyborway’s child, Joipekrõ, made it available. And now we go sleeping in it. Long ago there was only light. Our ancestors slept and woke up in light. Then Joipekrõ brought darkness from his father. It was in a gourd and it is still with us.

Commentary The missionary, Horace Banner, was the first white man to establish prolonged, friendly contact with the Kayapó in 1939. He was amazed to find that the Kayapó believed that the world was in perpetual light in the ancient days and darkness had to be introduced into it. This opposition to the Western view that light was brought into the world of darkness fascinated Banner. He saw this as evidence that the Indians had indeed ‘fallen’ into darkness through the dark forces of the devil and sin. The question of which was first, darkness or light,

The Kayapó origin of night

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continues to be a pivotal philosophical dilemma for the small indigenous Christian church in Gorotire. This is indicative of one of the basic contradictions in Kayapó and Western culture. The Kayapó believe that in the ancient days they lived in the skies (there are various sky layers). It was in the sky (kàikwa) that they learned to organize themselves into villages and social and political units. At some later point in time, part of the Kayapó found their way down a cotton rope to the present world. Some Kayapó remained in the skies and their campfires (stars) can still be seen as evidence of this (Lukesch 1976). The Origin of Night myth, however, refers to the early Kayapó who descended to the earth. Elements of the myth reflect traditional Kayapó values and concepts. Nhyborway, for example, is the man sought out in this narrative for the secret of night. Within the Kayapó culture there are many ritualist specialists. There are dozens of types of ‘curers’ (pidjô màri), as well as shamans (wayangas) who ‘know’ forces that are utilized to discern the future and manipulate the present. Even today the Kayapó will make long journeys to consult a shaman who has the reputation of being especially powerful. Thus the mythological journey to visit Nhyborway is paralleled in modern culture by those who travel long distances to consult wise and powerful wayanga. The son of Nhyborway, Joipekrõ, is a captive of the Kayapó. The Kayapó have a long-standing reputation for their raids to take hostages (Wagley 1977, Chapter 2). In the modern village of Gorotire, well over one per cent of the adult population is composed of individuals taken as children in raids. The Kayapó take great interest in the cultures of their captives and know a variety of songs and stories from other non-Jê speaking tribes (e.g. Karajá, Mundurucú, Parakana, etc.). Thus, there is an ancient tradition reflected in this narrative, not only of taking hostages, but also of learning from the captives. It is significant to note that raiding and the taking of hostages is really a type of cultural exchange and leads to rather complicated alliances that can shift over time. In this case, Joipekrõ serves as the guide to the secrets of night possessed by his father. In the quest for secrets of night, the Kayapó voyagers were too eager. They do not do as they are told and they ‘let out’ the night from the gourd. As a result, too much night escapes and along with it the danger and curses of the night. These ‘evils’ are represented by the scorpion. The Kayapó of today are not fond of the night. They seldom go out into the night and are horrified if caught alone in the darkness. There are some practical reasons for this, since night does bring out the nocturnal scorpions, snakes and jaguar that are indeed deadly. Darkness is also associated with death, and many sounds of the night (e.g. the night hawk and certain crickets) are thought to come directly from dead ancestors. The worst thing about the night is that it is uncontrollable and the jungle and savanna habitats so familiar to the Kayapó blend into an unknown mass of darkness. Night is the unsocialized part of the Kayapó world. This is somewhat compensated for by ceremonial dancing and singing, which often lasts the entire night. According to the narrative, night was sought

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for sleeping and for the anonymity of darkness for extra-marital sexual activity. Kayapó ceremonies often incorporate communal sexual activities, and birth patterns are tied to seasonal variations in the ceremonial calendar (T. Turner 1965; Posey 1979b). Thus, night is good for it facilitates sleep and is a time for the ceremonial life. The curses of night came only because men did not do as they were instructed and were overly anxious and greedy. Patience and generosity are highly valued characteristics in the Kayapó culture and these traits are surely reinforced by this important myth. The myth of the Origin of Night, therefore, reflects a variety of historical and current social practices. In addition the myth is clearly instructive by setting out certain values and warning against the dangers of greed and breaking established social norms.

Chapter 6

The journey to become a shaman: a narrative of sacred transition of the Kayapó Indians of Brazil 1

When the Europeans came to the Americas they sought native leaders similar to those of European states and political groups. The early chronicles often refer to indigenous ‘kings’ and ‘captains’, and ‘princes’. Europeans expected to find political leaders with powers over their subjects as great as the leaders of their own nations. In some of the higher cultures of Latin America like the Aztec and Inca, the conquistadores were not disappointed. But for the bulk of the Americas what they found were weak indigenous political leaders whose power, if any, came from leadership by example rather than by force. Leaders who did not overtly influence the actions of war and politics were completely ignored. If powerful political leaders did not appear to exist in a tribe, the Europeans often appointed one. This process continues today with Brazil’s indigenous peoples, where government officials and missionaries demand that ‘someone be in charge’ to facilitate dealing with tribal groups. An Indian may be appointed ‘chief’ by a Brazilian because he speaks Portuguese, or even formal elections may be held to ‘choose the tribal leader properly’. The European bias toward political leadership left obscure a group of leaders that have traditionally been extremely powerful, the shaman. Shamanism is generally viewed by Europeans as a hoax, a grand scheme by clever individuals to exploit others. At best shamans are viewed as magicians: at worst, as charlatans who prey upon society. Regardless of how shamans have been viewed by Europeans, however, they are one of the most influential groups in indigenous cultures of the Americas. Their power is not overtly political, but rather a pervasive influence that comes through specialized knowledge and unique mystical experiences. They are seen as people with spiritual gifts who have control over the natural forces of the universe. Since all things, animate and inanimate, are part of the Indian universe, then shamans have powers that affect all things. I had an opportunity in 1977–78 to study with two of the most powerful and famous shamans of the Northern Kayapó tribe, Beptopoop and Kwyrà-kà. Many people aspire to be shamans, but only a few are successful and even fewer ever become truly powerful and famous. The most powerful shamans can manipulate animals’ spirits as well as ancestral ghosts and superhuman powers. The famed

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shamans are also masters of ceremonial lore, rituals and mythology. They are the wise men of the tribe, not only because of their abilities to manipulate natural forces, but also because of their wealth of cultural knowledge. The two wayanga (shaman) with whom I studied, Beptopoop and Kwyrà-kà, are perhaps the most influential men in the village of Gorotire. Their fame transcends Gorotire, however, for Indians from remote villages travel great distances to consult them even today. To become a wayanga, a Kayapó must first experience the separation of his spirit (karõn) from his body (kà). This occurs during fevers (kanê) caused by illness or severe injuries. The Kayapó have an elaborate classification of fevers and the basis of the taxonomy is at the root of Kayapó concepts of energy balance and spiritual being. During the ‘fever’, a person is shown the spiritual pathway out of the body and offered a mystical journey to knowledge. This ‘calling’ to be a wayanga may be accepted or refused. The journey is perilous and many aspiring wayanga die en route because their spirits never find the way back to the body. Most Kayapó are frightened of the prospect of an out-of-body experience and consequently few choose to follow the lore of spiritual enlightenment. The following narrative describes the shamanistic experience. It was related to me by Beptopoop in August 1978. Beptopoop chose to tell me about the journey of the wayanga in the privacy of his home and only after I had spent several months learning about the natures of ‘fevers’ and the powers of the wayanga.

The Journey of the Wayanga 2 Listen! Those who become sick from strong fevers lie in death’s position; they lie as though they are dead. The truly great ones, the truly strong person who is a wayanga [shaman], shows the sick how to leave their bodies. They leave through their insides [pointing to the stomach], through their stomachs. They pass through their insides [their stomachs] and come to be in the form of a stone. Their bodies lie as in death, but beyond they are then transformed into an armadillo. As an armadillo they assume good, strong health and they pass through to the other side, over there [pointing to the east]. They come out way over there. Then they become a bat and fly – ko, ko, ko, ko, ko … [the noise of flying]. Then they go further beyond in the form of a dove. They fly like a dove – ku, ku, ku, ku … [the sound of a dove in flight]. They join the other wayangas and all go together. ‘Where will we go? What is the way?’ ‘Go to the east, way over there.’ Ku, ku, ku, ku … [the sound of flight]. And way over there is a spider’s web. They just go there and there is a spider’s web. Some go round and round near the spider’s web and [until] they just sit permanently [stop].

The journey to become a shaman

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The true and ancient shamans must teach them how to fly through the web. But those who have not been shown how, try to break through the web and the web grabs their wings thusly [the narrator wraps his arms around his shoulders]. They just hang in the web and die. Their bodies are carried by their relatives and are buried without waiting, for the spider’s web has entangled them, wrapped up their wings, and they are dead. Those who have been caused to know themselves, however, go round the spider web. They sit on the mountain seat of the shamans and sing like the dove – tu, tu, tu, tu … These people are the doves and call like the doves and fly like doves – tu, tu, tu, tu … ku, ku, ku, ku, ku … They acquire the knowledge of the ancestors. They speak to the spirits of all the animals and of the ancestors. They know [all]. Then they return [to their bodies]. They return to their homes – kwo, kwo, kwo, kwo … They enter and they breathe. And they say: ‘He arrived! He arrived! He arrived! He arrived!’ And the women all wail: ‘ayayikakraykyerekune.’3 When they are quiet from wailing, they ask ‘What happened?’ ‘You were dead and we have made a grave for you. What happened?’ ‘Do not bury me’ [he says]. ‘I am still alive; I am a wayanga. I am now one who can cure; I am one who smokes the powerful pipe. I know how to go through my body and under my head. I am a wayanga.’ He immediately entered himself and sat straight up. ‘He has become alive. He has become alive again. He has become a wayanga.’

Commentary The out-of-body experience is always essentially the same for all wayanga. The spirit (karõn) concentrates into a ball of energy and passes through the belly (the navel area) where it assumes what the Kayapó describe as an armadillo-like shape. The karõn moves along the ground like an armadillo, that is it wanders about searching for the right path to the east. Not all shamans have spirits that take the form of an armadillo. Some say their spirits are like balls of fire that are thrown toward the east in the way that a stone can be hurled through the air.4 The body (kà) that is left behind is considered dead during the flight of the spirit. The Kayapó often consider a person dead before Western medicine would pronounce biological death. The Kayapó begin to wail in the ceremonial manner for the dead, while the living relatives refuse food and drink to the sick person who may be pleading for sustenance. Graves are sometimes even prepared for the ‘dead’ person. This distinction between social death and biological death is very

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disconcerting for the Western observer, who may be frantically trying to aid the sick person in the midst of screeching death wails and obstinate Kayapó kinsmen. While the body is left behind in this ‘limbo’, the spirit continues its wanderings to the east. At the eastern edge of the earth, there is a great spider web. It separates the world of reality from the vast chasm of darkness that is farther beyond. Passing through the web is symbolic of passing through death into the realm of spirits. To pass through the web, the wayanga must turn first into a bat or a dove. Both bats and doves are known to be good fliers. Bats are especially good navigators in darkness and the shaman who knows about nature knows how to become like a bat. Doves likewise are keen navigators and are masters at flying through tangled masses of trees and limbs. It is the sound of the bat and the dove, however, that are symbolically the most important. The ‘ku, ku, ku’ of the dove’s flight and the ‘ko, ko, ko’ of the bat’s wings are the closest natural correlates to the sounds experienced during the shamanistic ‘flight’ through the web of darkness. As the spirit struggles in the chasm of darkness, a waffling sound of intermittent vibrations carries the wayanga into the realm of spirits. The Kayapó describe this transition from life to death as sounding like the flight of the dove or the bat. For those who are caught in the spider’s web, the spirit is captured forever; there is no escape. The body left behind in the village must be buried, often ‘without waiting’ as the text mentions. This explains why a person who may still show signs of life to the Western observer are presumed to be and treated as dead by the Kayapó. Successful wayanga are those who are truly strong spiritually and, as a result, are self-assured and wise. They have been ‘caused to know themselves’, and according to the text, have learned the secrets of the universe through the shamanistic journey into and out of death. They have become brave and wise by facing themselves in their purest essence through separating from their bodies and experiencing the sacred flight to the other realm. A truly powerful wayanga encounters all the spirits of the universe, including those of ancient shamans, powerful animals and superhuman energies.5 There is a hierarchy of animal spirits that is too complex to describe here, but no wayanga returns from his journey without encountering at least one of these forces. These spirits impart to him their secrets and the wayanga will continue to commune with his unique pantheon of spirits as long as he lives. Each spirit is associated with a disease, and the wayanga will specialize in the cure (or in some cases the causation) of the diseases that correspond to his spiritual knowledge. A wayanga’s spirits are available for consultation and divination any time. Each animal spirit speaks its own language, which the shaman learns during his flight and continues to use throughout his life to ‘talk’ with his spirits. The re-entry of the shaman into his body (kà) after the shamanistic journey is symbolized again by the sound of the dove, ‘ko, ko, ko …’. The spirit returns under the head and beneath the body, through the base of the spine and finally

The journey to become a shaman

51

refills the corpse. Normal breathing resumes and the fever passes. The wayanga returns from his journey and rejoins the world of the living. Shamans sometimes relate in great detail their journeys, recounting their sensations and encounters with spiritual powers. Generally, however, the experience is intensely personal, and only a few of the shaman’s closest relatives or aspiring shamans are privileged to hear the account of the flight. The last part of the myth deals with the re-entry and the wayanga’s first encounter with his family. He exhorts the family not to bury him because he is not dead. He announces that he is alive. His flight to the spiritual world is finished and he is a wayanga. The shamanistic journey is a narration of sacred transition between life and death. It deals with the central epistemological nature of the human spirit and the body. Death is what separates these two tenuously attached parts of one’s being. But death is transitory: it is an obstacle as fragile as the web of a spider, provided one has the wisdom of the shaman. It is the shaman’s understanding of the nature of death that makes him wise; it is his symbolic rebirth that makes him powerful.

Part II


Chapter 7

Report from Gorotire: will Kayapó traditions survive? 1

During my month of trekking with the Kayapó Indians of Central Brazil, I became accustomed to waking up in the pre-dawn chill to the sounds of the birds and frogs that serve as a natural alarm clock for the Indians. On this morning, I looked out from our camp onto the Rio Fresco, distant tributary to the great Amazon. The water was enshrouded in layers and swirls of surrealistic fog. The idyllic tranquillity was broken by the sharp crack of rifle fire. Someone had killed a tapir that was drinking from an igarapé, or stream. The sound frightened a harpy eagle from its perch. We watched in awe as the majestic bird, symbol of shamanistic knowledge for the Kayapó, circled and soared out of sight. For the Indians this was an ominous sighting: a sign that it was time to return to the village of Gorotire. The trek was a revelation for me. I gathered detailed data on 56 species of stingless bees recognized by the Kayapó.2 The honey, wax and pollen are used for food and medicine. Each time the Indians opened a beehive they would return a part of the brood comb to the hive, carefully closing the nest so the colony could re-establish itself. Such wildlife management practices, although little documented, are widespread in many indigenous groups. I also learned about the importance to the Kayapó economy of collecting useful plants to be replanted near campsites. Concentrating natural resources at human-use areas assures that needed foods and medicines are always available for future generations. I also counted hundreds and hundreds of açaí and bacaba palms recently planted by the Indians to create ‘resource islands’ in the forest, and saw enormous groves of brazil nut trees that the Kayapó had named in honour of the ancestors who planted them. Who would have guessed that Amazonian Indians had planted so extensively? How much of what scientists have considered ‘natural’ is, in fact, a product of ancient and modern indigenous manipulation? Thoughts of trying to document the Kayapó’s knowledge of nature overwhelmed me. No anthropologist could carry to the field adequate training in botany, zoology, entomology, agronomy, ornithology, linguistics and anthropology to complete the task successfully. I felt entirely inadequate. There was only one solution: find a team of scientific specialists willing to work on an interdisciplinary ethnobiology project.

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To my surprise, 16 highly trained and dedicated researchers expressed interest in my endeavour – all of them eager to dig into the first multidisciplinary project ever to attempt to document in detail indigenous knowledge in so many areas of expertise. Seed funding soon came from the Brazilian Council for Science and Technology, and then came a crucial grant from the [then] World Wildlife Fund. Some members of the Kayapó Project joined me in collecting new species of insects, birds, mammals and reptiles, along with indigenous knowledge on the use of each species. We began an inventory of fish, emphasizing the ecological control mechanisms set in motion by the Kayapó belief in a mythological animal called the mry-kaàk. Project biologists have pointed out that the ecological productivity of river life in the region depends upon these small fish. Thus, fear of the mry-kaàk serves to protect the natural productivity of the riverine ecological system. The Kayapó also maintain this productivity by planting fruit-bearing trees and shrubs along the banks of rivers and streams; the fruits, which fall into the water, are known to attract fish. The tucum palm (Astrocaryum tucuma) is even planted in flood basins during the dry season in anticipation of high waters: small fish thrive among the palm’s protective, thorny shoots when the river rises. In addition, the project team has studied long-term ecological management techniques for secondary forest. For the Kayapó, secondary forest emerges when their gardens of major seed and root crops start to decline in productivity and fruit trees and medicinal shrubs begin to dominate. A Kayapó garden is never abandoned: old fields are highly concentrated areas of managed secondary forest full of medicinal, edible and other useful species planted by the Indians. Equally important, the Indians plant food species to attract useful game species. Management of old fields and secondary forests by the Kayapó produces, in effect, game-farms and orchards in a long-term, integrated, floral and faunal conservation scheme. To our surprise, we have discovered that the Kayapó actually create forest in the campo-cerrado (savanna). Using a special planting medium composed of crushed termite and ant nests mixed with organic mulch, the Indians have developed planting techniques that allow them to concentrate valuable natural resources in areas relatively devoid of useful species. Small vegetative patches (apêtê) cultivated by the Indians grow into major forest groves within a few human generations. One recent survey of 120 plant species collected from a mature apêtê showed that 98 per cent were used by the Kayapó, and that over 75 per cent of the species were, in fact, brought by the Indians to be planted in the apêtê. When we mapped the origins of these introduced species, we discovered that the Indians had amassed a collection of selected plant varieties from an area the size of Europe. Such practices amaze scientists because they show just how little we know of the true nature of Amazonian ecological systems in relation to aboriginal and historical human occupation. There are many lessons to be learned from the Kayapó, as well as other Indian and folk groups who have developed their own conservation methods over many generations. Sadly, however, the Kayapó way of life may not last another five years. Gold miners and lumber cutters

Report from Gorotire: will Kayapó traditions survive?

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are literally invading the village of Gorotire, threatening the cultural identity and ecological basis of traditional Kayapó society. Project scientists, through the various fields of specialized Western science, are trying to document the richness and invaluable knowledge of this tribe. Our underlying goal is to restore the Indians’ faith in their own tribal knowledge and conservation practices, and to substantiate for government and economic leaders what human and biological riches are being lost – forever – in Amazonia. Already we have seen renewed confidence in traditional practices within the tribe, and glimmers of interest in our research results from young scientists and even a few government and economic leaders. Ultimately, we hope that the Kayapó study will incorporate these indigenous strategies into new models of conservation that can be used to maintain biological diversity in other regions of Amazonia and the humid tropics.

Chapter 8

Indigenous knowledge and development: an ideological bridge to the future 1

Introduction The Amazon Basin constitutes the largest tract of tropical rainforest, over 557 million hectares (UNESCO/FAO/UNEP 1978: 22), and is one of the most species diverse regions in the world (Goodland and Irwin 1977; Sioli 1981: 264–5). Yet extinction due to deforestation is occurring at an alarming rate. Gottlieb (1981: 23) estimates that 90 per cent of the natural inventory of organisms will vanish into extinction before even basic descriptions can be made. Extinction is only one of the devastating ecological effects of deforestation. Erosion starts the vicious cycle of soil compaction, destruction of the nutrient cycle and flooding (Moran 1981b; Rosenblat 1954: 323). Water pollution soon results with associated changes in water turbidity and pH that reduce or destroy aquatic life (Schubart 1977; Lovejoy and Schubart 1981: 21). Widespread deforestation may also significantly alter rainfall patterns (Sioli 1981: 233–62), and threaten the delicate carbon dioxide balance of the atmosphere (Pimentel 1979; Sioli 1981: 262). Tropical forest ecosystems have been shown to be very fragile and prone to collapse if disturbed (Farnworth and Golley 1974). This collapse is often irreversible (Goodland 1980) and contributes to the growing global threat of soil impoverishment (Hecht 1982c; Moran 1981a: 4; Eckholm and Brown 1977; Sioli 1981: 264). The greatest tragedy of Amazonia is perhaps the human one. Peasants, with few exceptions (Parker n.d.; Moran 1974; Ross 1978; Smith 1981) are ignored in Amazonian studies as though they were cultureless creatures of an economic illusion. Yet they have borne the brunt of development, being pushed from their lands as ‘squatters’ and forced into dependency in favelas or towns (BarbiraScazzocchio 1981: ix; Wood and Schmink 1979). American Indians reflect most vividly the tragic human cost of Amazonian development. The Indian population in Brazil has dropped from millions at the time of contact to less than 150,000 (0.1 per cent of the population) today (Ramos 1981: 222): in this century alone at least 87 Indian groups have become extinct solely in Brazil (Ribeiro 1970: 238). One has only to read Davis’ poignant account of the Victims of the Miracle (Davis 1977) to grasp the impact of development on native peoples.

Indigenous knowledge and development

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With the extinction of each indigenous group, the world loses millennia of accumulated knowledge about life in and adaptation to tropical ecosystems. This priceless information is forfeited with hardly a blink of the eye: the march of development cannot wait long enough to even find out what it is that it is about to destroy. For millennia, Indians have survived in Amazonia. Their understanding of ecological zones, plant–human–animal relationships, and natural resource management has evolved through countless generations of trial and experimentation. Incredibly little is known about indigenous perceptions of ecology and utilization of natural resources, but Western science should now be sophisticated enough to approach this problem with much-needed success. It is suggested in this chapter that indigenous cultures form a valuable human resource that offers a rich and untapped source of information about the natural resources of the Amazon Basin. If the knowledge of indigenous peoples can be applied to technological know-how, then a new path for ecologically sound development of the Amazon will have been found.2 Likewise, if technological civilization begins to realize the richness and complexity of indigenous knowledge, then Indians can be viewed as intelligent, valuable people, rather than just exotic footnotes to history. This, it is argued, is an ‘ideological bridge’ whereby Indians can prosper in a modern multi-ethnic society with the dignity they need and the respect they deserve. This essay on folk ecological knowledge is primarily based upon data collected during fieldwork with the Northern Kayapó Indians in 1977–78.

A preliminary Knowledge of indigenous groups about ecological systems has generally been considered as irrelevant because aboriginal populations are sparse. Recent estimates, however, suggest that aboriginal populations have been vastly underestimated (Dobyns 1966; Denevan 1976). Archaeological and geographical data (Lathrop 1968; Lathrop 1970; Smith 1980; Myers 1974) seem to confirm historical accounts (Acuña 1859; Carvajal 1934) of large population centres in the fertile várzea of Amazonia. There is also evidence of sizeable villages in the higher savanna regions of the Amazon Basin (Posey 1979a). European diseases swept with unimaginable speed through aboriginal populations with devastating effects. Dobyns (1966: 414) proposes a 20:1 depopulation ratio from initial contact with Europeans. Records of death rates as high as 70–80 per cent are common from a single viral epidemic (Myers 1973, 1974, 1981a). Initial contact with the Kayapó was effected principally because the Indians were too weak from disease to resist Europeans (Horace Banner, unpublished journal). The first Kayapó band shrunk from 350 to 85 during the first six months after initial contact with Europeans (Banner, unpublished journal). European diseases continue today to take a large toll despite preventative inoculation; it is not uncommon for an inoculated indigenous group to lose 30–40 per cent of its members due to an epidemic (ARC 1981).

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The social and cultural effects of such devastation have been underestimated by scholars. Accounts of eyewitnesses at ‘first contact’ with Indian groups are taken to be representative of the groups’ true aboriginal states. In fact, however, diseases travelled well in advance of the first observers (Dobyns 1966; Myers 1981b). A detailed typology of contact has been worked out to illustrate the various cultural and social mechanisms whereby diseases were transmitted in Amazonia through trade, raiding, warfare and treks prior to direct contact (Chapter 2, this volume). Humans are not always necessary for disease transmission; trade items – like pelts, feathers, woven goods – are excellent carriers of deadly organisms. Insects and animals also serve as vectors and reservoirs of diseases like malaria, yellow fever, typhus and plague (Posey 1976a). Myers (1981a) has sketched part of the extensive aboriginal trade networks that were operative in pre-Colombian Amazonia. Lyon (1981) has shown how these trade routes connected the lowlands of Amazonia with the highland civilizations of the Andes. These trade routes served as a network of disease transmission, with easily transported bacterial and viral diseases accompanying trade items deep into the hinterland long before the first face-to-face contact with Europeans. The first white man to visit the Kayapó, for example, found them already in possession of European clothes, guns, glass beads, axes, pans and European diseases (Banner, unpublished journal). It would thus appear that scholars seriously need to re-evaluate ethnohistorical documents in light of a more sophisticated understanding of the nature of ‘contact’ and the associated transmission of devastating diseases. As estimates of aboriginal populations continue to increase, so does the relevance of indigenous ecological knowledge systems to modern development plans. If the size of Indian populations has been seriously underestimated, then the potential application of aboriginal ecological knowledge has likewise been seriously underestimated by ecologists and development planners.

Lessons from the Kayapó Kayapó Indian knowledge is an integrated system of belief and practice. There is much shared knowledge in a Kayapó village, although there are many specialists as well (Posey 1979c) who are experts on soils, plants, animals, crops, medicines and rituals. But each Kayapó believes that he or she has the ability to survive alone in the forest indefinitely. This belief offers great personal security and permeates the fabric of everyday life. It is difficult to represent a complete Kayapó ecological view, for this operates within such an intricate network of cultural assumptions. This chapter proposes to be practical and deals with easily delineated categories of indigenous knowledge that suggest fields of research for Western science.


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Ethnoecology Ethnoecology can be defined as indigenous perceptions of ‘natural’ divisions in the biological worlds and plant–animal–human relationships within each division. These cognitively defined ecological categories do not exist in isolation, thus ethnoecology must also deal with the perceptions of interrelatedness between ‘natural’ divisions. Recognition of ‘ecological zones’ A great obstacle to understanding Amazonia has been the tendency to generalize about its ecology and to ignore its highly variable ‘ecological zones’ (Moran 1981a). Scientists still suffer from lack of data about the complexities of ecosystems in this enormous region. The Amazon is too often viewed as just one homogenous ‘counterfeit paradise’ or ‘green hell’ (Mahar 1978; Goodland and Irwin 1975). The Kayapó Indians, however, see their environment in an expanded series of ‘ecological zones’ and ‘subzones’. The three principal divisions are: kapôt (grasslands), krãi (mountains) and bà (forest).3 There are, however, major subdivisions within each zone and further differentiations too complicated to deal with in this chapter. One illustrative set of subcategories of forest types (bà-kamrek, bà-êpti, and bà-katí) are represented graphically in Figure 8.1. Bà-kamrek is subdivided based on vegetative response to flood levels of the Rio Fresco. Suitable farmland is selected from terra firme lands that do not flood (bà-katí), although some fields are carved from bà-êpti which floods every seven to ten years. The richer alluvial soils of bà-êpti (including much black soil called pyka-tyk) provide sufficient Table 8.1 Major ecological zones recognized by the Kayapó* 1

2 3

Kapôt (grassland, savanna) a Kapôt-kein b Kapôt-kemepti c Kapôt-kam-bôiprek d Pykati’ô’krãi Krãi (mountains) Bà (forest) a bà-kamrek b bà-êpti c bà-katí (pi’y-kô) d bà-ràràra

short grass lands savanna with tree stands high grass lands savanna with intermittent trees

gallery (riverine) forest dense jungle (selva) high forest forest with intermittent openings

*This is only a partial typology of ecological zones; there are various subtypes not enumerated. In folk taxonomy, the Kayapó also use ‘transitional categories’ (cf. Posey 1981) that are interzonal.

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Figure 8.1 Idealized cross-section of Kayapó forest ecological zones and subzones near Gorotire.

yield increases to chance the periodic, but unpredictable, crop destruction due to flooding. The Kayapó chiefs’ communal fields, as well as the women’s collective fields (Posey 1979e) are usually planted in bà-êpti to minimize total crop loss for any one family group. The Kayapó folk taxonomic system reflects a high propensity for ‘transitional’ ecological categories that grade4 between two or more semantic (named) divisions or ecological zones (Posey 198lc: 168–75). Kayapó village sites are, in fact, purposefully selected to rest in these transitional zones and, therefore, close to a variety of ecological zones. The distinct advantage to such sites is that the Kayapó are in the midst of maximum species diversity, with each zone providing natural products and attracting different game species at different times of the year (Bamberger 1967). Location of the Kayapó village of Gorotire is represented in Figure 8.2 and is surrounded by a variety of ecological zones. Each ecological zone has associated with it specific plants and animals. The Kayapó have a well-developed knowledge of animal behaviour and know which plants are associated with particular animals. In turn, plant types are associated with soil types. Each ecological zone, therefore, is an integrated system of interactions between plants, animals, the earth – and, of course, the Kayapó. Table 8.2 summarizes selected systemic relationships in bà-ràràra, which is forest with intermittent openings and penetration of sunlight. These same relationships hold for abandoned fields (pyru-tym) which the Kayapó see as replicating the natural openings in the bà-ràràra forest. Knowledge of such systemic relationships allows the Kayapó to select agricultural lands from vegetative types as well as to formulate hunting and gathering strategies based on ripening of fruits that attract game animals.


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Figure 8.2 Ecological zones surrounding the village of Gorotire as perceived by the Kayapó.

Folk ethology Recent studies (Parker n.d.; Smith 1981; Posey 1981d; Posey 1983a; Moran 1981a) have emphasized the considerable knowledge about animal behaviour that exists in folk and indigenous cultures of Amazonia. The Kayapó have an intricate knowledge of animal behaviour, even of animals as small as wasps and ants (Posey 1979c; Posey 1981d; Posey 1983b). There is much to be learned about animal behaviour, for example, from hunting strategies. As Carneiro noted for the Amahuaca, ‘every significant detail of the life habits of animals is part of an Amahuaca hunter’s knowledge, including the sound of its cry, its preferred foods, its excrement, its scents, the teeth marks it makes on fruit, etc.’ (Carneiro 1974: 126).

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Table 8.2 Selected soil–plant–animal relationships in the selected ecozone (bà-ràràra) Use of plant Preferred Particular animal ‘soil’✝ ass’n*

Plants associated with zone

1, 2 1, 2 3

A,B,C,D,E Humiria balsamifera F Psidium guineense F Zingiberaceae

3 2, 3 2, 3 1, 2, 3 1 3 1

– – C, F C, D A,B,C,D – A,B,C,D

Peschiera sp. Catasetum sp. Bignoniaceae Cissampelos sp. Piperaceae Amasonia sp. Oenocarpus distichus

1, 2, 3 1, 3

H F

Macrostaychia sp. Monotagma sp.

1, 2 1, 3 2 2 2, 3 2, 3

A,C,D,F H,F – F – C,D,F

✝

Soil Types: 1 = black (pyka-tyk) 2 = red (pyka-kamrek) 3 = yellow (pyka-ti)

man

animal

eat fruit eat fruit use root for tea; smoke leaves use for paint medicinal medicinal fish bait fish bait prophylaxis eat fruit

eat fruit bã-rerek eat fruit + leaves kamokãtytx eat leaves madn-tu

use wood grind leaves; eat roots Myrcia sp. eat fruit Cecropia leucocoma – Polypodiaceae medicinal Clarisia ilicifolia medicinal Centrosema carajaense fish poison Cassia hoffmanseggii medicinal *Animals: A = white-lipped peccary (porção) B = white paca (paca branca) C = agouti (cutia branca) D = tortoise (jaboti)

– – eat leaves eat fruit eat fruit – eat fruit ? eat leaves; eat roots eat fruit + leaves eat fruit + leaves – eat leaves – eat fruit + leaves

Kayapó name

pita-teka pitu ngra-kanê tep-kanê màkrê-kanê pidjô-rã kamêrê (bacaba) kukrytmyka k˜uryre kônôkô atw`yra’ô’ tôn-kanê pidjô-nirê akrô pidjô-kakrit

E = red paca (paca vermelha) F = red agouti (cutia vermelha) G = deer (veado) H = tapir (anta)

Note Identifications made by Dr Susanna Hecht, Department of Geography, UCLA.

Plant–animal–human relationships can be symbolically represented in rituals and ceremonies (Rappaport 1971; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1974, 1976, 1978). T. Turner (1965) describes various ceremonies that utilize specific plants during Kayapó rituals, thus ceremonial cycles can function to regulate exploitation of different resources and ecological zones. Research into the relationships between natural objects and ceremonial importance is underway and will undoubtedly be fruitful in


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understanding indigenous perceptions of ecological relatedness and symbolic annual cycles. Another significant field of investigation is that of ‘co-evolutionary complexes’, i.e. plant and animal communities that have evolved simultaneously through changing environmental conditions in biological evolutionary history (Gilbert and Raven 1975; Pimentel and Goodman 1978). Such complexes are generally complicated and difficult to discover. The Kayapó recognize certain ‘co-evolutionary complexes’ that are encoded for cultural transmission through myths. Myths often seem nonsense to the casual outside observer. Myths may serve, however, as valuable sources of highly symbolic information about important social and environmental relationships. Take, for example, the following Kayapó myth: Why Women Paint their Faces with Ant Parts The trails of the fire ant (mrum-kamrek-ti) are long. They are ferocious (akrê) like men. But the little red ant of our fields (mrum-re) is gentle like women; they are not aggressive (wajobore). Their trails meander like the bean vines on the maize. The little red ant is the relative/friend of the manioc. This is why women use the little red ant to mix with urucu to paint their faces in the maize festival. The little red ant is the guardian of our fields and is our relative/friend.5 The principal theme of this myth is that a certain ant (mrum-re) is the friend of the fields and the women, who are the cultivators in Kayapó culture. The myth begins to make sense when we understand the co-evolutionary complex – of maize, beans, manioc and the ant. Manioc produces an extra-floral nectary that attracts the ants to the young manioc plant.6 The ants use their mandibles to trim their way to the nectar, cutting away any bean vines that would prevent the new fragile manioc stems from growing. The twining bean vines are, therefore, kept from climbing on the manioc and are left with the maize plants as their natural trellis. The maize can shoot up undamaged by the bean vines, while the bean plant itself furnishes valuable nitrogen needed by the maize. The ants are the natural manipulators of nature and facilitate the horticultural activities of the women. Unfortunately myth has not seriously been studied as a transmitter of encoded ecological knowledge. This example, however, provides evidence to necessitate a serious approach to myth analysis for biological information and ecosystemic relationships. Perception of resources Within specific ecological zones the Kayapó have an extensive and varied inventory of utilizable natural resources. Based on indigenous environmental perceptions, the following categories are discernible.

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(a) Wild plants Although the array of wild plants collected by Amazonian Indians is known to be extensive, taxonomic and chemical-nutritional data remain scanty. The Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas da Amazonia (INPA), in Manaus, and the Laboratório de Etnobiologia, in Maranhão, have projects underway to systematically gather data on wild plants utilized by indigenous groups of Amazonia. Wild food resources are somewhat better known (Cavalcante 1972, 1974) than medicinal plants, which are regrettably overlooked due to the difficulty and expense of evaluating medicinal properties, and a general disregard by Western science for folk medicine. Chemical and nutritional analyses exist for less than one per cent of the plants collected by Indians of Amazonia (Kerr, personal communication). An estimated 250 plants have been collected that are utilized by the Kayapó for their fruits alone, plus hundreds of others for their nuts, tubers and drupes. The list of plants with medicinal value is overwhelmingly vast. An exemplary list of plants gathered by the Kayapó for food can be found in Table 8.3.7 (b) Domesticated plants The Kayapó have a large inventory of aboriginal cultigens. A list of major cultivated plants is found in Table 8.4 (see also Chapter 17). There are numerous varieties of major cultigens that the Indians say are aboriginal (Table 8.5) and which are little-known outside the Kayapó region. The Kayapó cultigens alone offer much information about plant genetic variation and a significant genetic pool for botanic research and experimentation. One domesticate of great interest is kupa (C. gongylodes). It is a fast-growing plant that has considerable vitamin, mineral and nutrition value (Kerr, Posey et al. 1978: 704). Sixty-five per cent of the plant is edible, and chemical analyses of the stems give the following values per 100 gram sample: 77.56 per cent water; 1.2 per cent protein; 1.0 per cent fat; 1.4 per cent ash; 18.84 per cent carbohydrates (89.2 calories). The vitamin content (based on gas chromatography) is A, B1, B2, B6, C, D2, D3, E. There are wild and semi-domesticated varieties of the plant also, which offer insightful new data into the process of plant domestication in Amazonia. The Kayapó also have several domesticated medicinal plants, including madntu (Zingiber).8 Madn-tu is believed to be an effective medicine against intestinal parasites, one of the principal health problems of the Kayapó (Posey 1979b) and tropical peoples in general. Another important domesticate is urucu (Bixa orellana). The red seeds of urucu are used to colour and flavour foods and are the principal ingredient of Kayapó body paint. Red body paint is an indispensable part of indigenous body adornment throughout Amazonia, but body paint also has a practical value – I found urucu to be an effective natural insect repellent with a significant reduction (as much as 84 per cent) in insect bites when painted on the body (Posey 1979e).


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Table 8.3 Partial list of gathered food plants of the Kayapó* Kayapó name

Portuguese Scientific name name

Seasonality

pidjo-rã norã

açaí bacaba

Euterpe oleracea Oenocarpus distichus

kubenkrã pidjôko pidjô-ti

Theobroma speciosum Spondias lutea excelsa Bertholletia excelsa

ñejaka ronkà

cacaubraba cajá Castanhado-Pará cupuaçu babaçu

June–November Fruit; heart September–December Fruit; leaves (used for making salt) December–January Fruit March–May Drupe December–March Nut

Theobroma grandiflorum December–March Orbignya speciosa All year

pidjo-bà pidjo-tyk

frutão genipapo

Pouteria pariry Genipa americana

December–March All year

rõtu pidjo-bàti pidjo-kamrek idjy-kryre

nájá piqui uxi frutade-campo orquídeade-campo biro ingá jatobá – –

Maximiliana regia Caryocar villosum Endopleura uchi Psidium guineense

August–February December–February November–March January–February

Fruit Nut; leaves (used for making salt) Fruit Fruit (eaten and used as base for body paint); leaves (dried and smoked) Fruit Drupe Drupe Flower

Catasetum sp.

January–March

False bulb

Monotagma sp. Myrcia sp. – Cassia hoffmanseggii Psidium sp.

All year August–October July January–April July–August

Tuber Fruit Fruit Fruit Fruit

pitú kryry-re konoko môyt pidjô kakut bàdjum

Part(s) eaten

*Note Identifications based on Cavalcante (1972, 1974).

One can only guess at the vastness of the domesticated plant inventories of Amazonian Indians. As has been recognized by some scientists (Williams 1960; NAS 1975), many of these plants offer promising economic value and can be exploited on a large-scale basis.

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Table 8.4 Major cultivated plants of the Kayapó Portuguese name

English name Kayapó name Scientific name of folk varieties1

Use

abacaxi abóbora algodão araia arroz2 banana batata-doce cana2 cará cupá babão fava2 feijão feijão guandú inhame macaxeira mandioca melancia2 milho tabaco urucú ? mamão

pineapple squash cotton arrowroot rice banana sweet potato sugar cane ? kupa broad bean bean bush bean yam cassava manioc water-melon corn tobacco urucu ? papaya

food food cloth food food food food food food food food food food food food food, medicine food food smoke body paint medicine food, medicine

akrañitu katere kadjatkà môp-jabi’ê ba`y-gogo tyryti yàt kadjwati môp-kaàk kupá màt krwàt’`y màt-kwat màt-kwat’`y môp kwyrà-djài kwyry katekaàk ba`y cariño p`y madn-tu kàtembaré

Ananas comosus Cucurbita sp. Gossypium arboreum Maranta arundinacea Oryza sativa Musa sp. Ipomoea batatas Saccharum officinarum Maranta sp. Cissus gongylodes Vicia faba Phaseolus vulgaris Canjanus indicus Dioscorea sp. Manihot esculenta Manihot esculenta Citrullus vulgaris Zea mays Nicotiana tabacum Bixa orellana Zingiber Carica papaya

1

See Table 8.5.

2

Recent introduction; other cultigens the Kayapó say are aboriginal.

Number 3 8 4 6 6 13 16 4 6 4 2 4 2 17 63 113 4 8 3 6 ? 4

3

The unique variation of speciation in manioc makes the determination of exact taxonomy difficult for our own science and causes variation in folk taxonomy as well (see Kerr and Clement 1980).

(c) ‘Nomadic agriculture’ As previously stated, Kayapó taxonomic patterns show a propensity for not classifying the natural world into neatly defined categories, but rather to rely heavily on ‘graded’ categories of transition. The unclear distinctions between domesticated and wild plants is an excellent example of how categories blend one into the other. During hunting treks9 the men may be away from the village for two to four weeks. They carry little food with them, relying instead on natural ‘resource islands’ along the established forest trails. The Kayapó have a vast network (thousands of kilometres) of trails interlacing villages, hunting grounds, gardens, old

Indigenous knowledge and development Table 8.5 Folk varieties of major Kayapó cultigens Banana (Musa sp.):Ty`ry`ti Kayapó 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

tek ày diagôt1 djô kakô-kukrê ti1 tekà kamrek tú tekà ngra ngra ti ô’taben prôre teka-pyuhti noipoti tykre1 rike1 teka ngàite takre keti1 prikamdjô noi poti kaàk re1

Portuguese

Utilization1

branquinho peruwara roxa roxa-branca rangideira comprida papo São Tomé nasazinho anoa naja bahia

raw raw flour, roasted cooked, flour, roasted flour, roasted flour, roasted raw, roasted raw, cooked raw, cooked raw, cooked, roasted raw, cooked, roasted raw raw

Manioc (Manihot esculenta): Kwyry Kayapó

Portuguese

Utilization1

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

gerio

sun-dried flour toasted flour (farinha) toasted flour (farinha) toasted flour (farinha) toasted flour (farinha) tapioca sun-dried flour toasted flour toasted flour tapioca sun-dried flour

kwyrà-djà kwyrà-djà-ô-kryre kwyrà-ngra-ngra2 kwyrà-pa2 kwyrà-prîtu kwyrà-djà-‘ô’-pôti kwyrà-ñi-mok-tyk kwyrà-pakamrek kwyrà-djà-ô-jabire kwyrà-nô’ô’poti my-myt-kàre

mandioca amarela

mandioca preta mandioca vermelha

Corn (maize) (Zea mays): Bày Kayapó 1 2 3 4 5 6

bày-ka-re bày-ngra-ngra bày-kamrek-tu bày-no-tykti bày-ka-ràràre3 bày-ngrwa-kà-tire

Portuguese milho amarelo milho vermelho pipoca

Utilization1 roasted, boiled, flour roasted, boiled, flour roasted, boiled, flour roasted, boiled, flour roasted roasted, boiled, flour

69

70


Table 8.5 Continued Kayapó

Portuguese

7 bày-karê 8 bày-noi-bê-tire

Utilization1 roasted, boiled, flour roasted, boiled, flour

Macaxeira, sweet manioc (Manihot esculenta): Kroyrà-djài Kayapó 1 2 3 4 5 6

mî-mut-kàre no’ô-poiti krê-kamrek4 kwyrà-kamrek4 tàp-kyre4 krê-jaka-p˜u-re4

Portuguese

Utilization1

macaxeira macaxeira macaxeira macaxeira macaxeira macaxeira

roasted, flour roasted, flour roasted, flour roasted, flour raw, roasted, flour roasted, flour

Sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas) and taro (Colocasia esculenta):Yàt Kayapó

Portuguese

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

batata-amarela batata branca batata encarnada

yàt-ngra-ngra yàt-jaka-ti yàt-kawrek-ti4 yàt-ngrô-ti4 yàt-ñere yàt-’ôk-re yàt-kà-tyk-ti4 yàt-jakure4 yàt-’ôk-ti yàt-kangàrà yàt-tykre yàt-krê-jaka yàt-apàri yàt-krê-rã yàt-krê-ngra yàt-tu-kà4

Utilization1

Yam (Dioscorea sp.): Môp Kayapó 1 2 3 4 5

môp-pi-rô-ti5 môp-rô-tu môp-jábire môp-u’i-tôre môp-punuti5

Portuguese sucuru sucuru

osso

Utilization1


71

Table 8.5 Continued Kayapó 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

môp-jaka5 môp-krê-jaka5 môp-djà-ni5 môp-jà-môp môp-màri môp-djà-djô môp-tykre môp-djô-re môp-ka-prorô môp-kà-kamrô7 môp-ñere pàt-parikàre

Portuguese

Utilization1

osso branco branco espinha braba6

ossinha Urucu (Bixa orellana): Py

Kayapó 1 2 3 4 5 6

krã-mêre krã-ô-re krã-jaka krã-kamrek krã-kamrek-ti krã-kamrekre

Portuguese

Utilization1

urucú urucú urucú urucú urucú urucú

all varieties aboriginal

1

Post-contact introduction

2

Recently imported varieties; others are pre-contact varieties

3

Recently introduced; other varieties very ancient

4

Post-contact introductions

5

Introduced varieties; others are said to be aboriginal

6

Semi-domesticated variety

7

Bears from 10 to 40 years

fields, and natural resource islands. Food supplies, therefore, are hardly left to chance. To further ensure food sources, however, the Kayapó also create ‘forest fields’ of semi-domesticated plants. These plants are collected during the day’s travels along trails and hunting reconnoitres into the forest. The plants are then replanted near established forest campsites. There are at least 54 species of plants used by the Kayapó in these forest fields. Many are tuberous monocots similar to those described by Maybury-Lewis (1974: 334) for the Shavante. All grow naturally in bà-ràràra (forest with intermittent openings and penetration of sunlight), which the Kayapó see as a natural

72


counterpart of their human-made fields. Replanting is done, usually before or after defecation, adjacent to campsites, which are always in transitional ecological zones. Figure 8.3 indicates the route of a trek I made in 1978 to the ancient Kayapó village of Pyka-tõ-ti (Posey 1979a). The map (based on a drawing by a Kayapó informant) shows natural ‘resource islands’ as well as ‘forest fields’ created by the Kayapó. Elsewhere (Posey 1982f) I have described this system of ecological exploitation as ‘nomadic agriculture’ to emphasize the special adaptation of forest fields to the semi-nomadic system of the Kayapó. The tendency of Western science to analyse only those data that fit into neat categories tends to underestimate or miss

Figure 8.3 Trek from Kubeñ-krã-kein village to abandoned village site (Pyka-tô-ti) showing resource islands and campsites associated with forest fields.


73

entirely the importance of transitional categories of ecological exploitation. This transitional system probably is much more widespread in Amazonia than expected and underlines the inadequacies of existing subsistence typologies and carrying capacity theories. (d) Manipulated animal species Another area of ‘transitional’ knowledge for the Kayapó is semi-domesticated animals. These are perhaps best called ‘manipulated species’ to emphasize the Indians’ intentional manipulation of animal behaviour. The larvae of beetles (Scarabaeidae and Buprestidae), for example, are utilized by various tribes in the lowland tropics (Chagnon 1968; Posey 1978; Posey 1980). The adult beetle lays eggs in the refuse of dead banana plants and old palm trees. The Indians intentionally stack the remains of banana and palm plants near villages, fields and campsites to attract the adult beetles. After some months (depending on species and region, as well as season of the year), the eggs develop into grubs ‘as big as mice’ (Chagnon 1968) that are tasty and nutritious. Indians know the life cycle of the beetle and can predict when to collect the mature grubs. The Kayapó recognize 54 folk species of stingless bees (Meliponinae) and two additional species of stinging bees (both subspecies of Apis mellifera). All these species are classified by distinctive honeys and waxes (Posey 1983a, Chapter 12, this volume). Honey is a prized food, while beeswaxes are used as treatments for burns, cures for diseases, disinfectants of wounds and adhesives for artefacts. Six species of stingless bees are ‘kept’ by the Kayapó (see Table 8.6). The Indians know that if a portion of the brood comb with the queen bee is returned to Table 8.6 Semi-domesticated (manipulated) bee species utilized by the Kayapó Kayapó name

Scientific name

*ngài-pêrê-`y *+ngài-ñy-tyk-ti *+ngài-kumrenx (mehn-krak-krak-ti) *ngài-re

Apis mellifera Melipona seminigra cf. pernigra (Moure Ms.) Melipona rufiventris flavolineata (Friese) Melipona compressipes cf. fasciculata (sm) or afinis Moure Ms. Frieseomelitta sp. Trigona amalthea (Olivier) Trigona dallatorreana Friese Trigona cilipes pellucida (Ckll.) Scaura longula (Lep.)

*mykrwàt *+udj`y *+kukraire ∆ mehnôrã-kamrek ∆ mehnôrã-tyk Key: +

Those species whose nests are taken to the village.

∆

Species that are encouraged to build nests in dry posts in the houses.

* These species are systematically raided in subsequent seasons.

74


the tree after the honey is taken, certain species of bees will return to re-establish the colony. Thus hives of these six species can be systematically raided seasonally. Nests of two other species (Table 8.7) are gathered in the forest and brought with the complete bee swarm back to the village.10 The nests are then mounted on a house top and guarded until the Indians feel the time is optimal to take the honey. The Kayapó also know two species of bees (Trigona cilipes and Scaura longula) that prefer to nest in dry logs in open areas. These species often colonize the dried timbers of Kayapó houses and their nests are left undisturbed until honey production is maximal. Two other stingless bee species are intentionally attracted to Kayapó fields. One species (Trigona fulviventris Guérin) prefers to nest in earthen walls; the other (Trigona fuscipennis) nests in rotten logs. The Kayapó either dig a hole in their field clearings, or utilize a hole already dug by armadillo. Into this hole they put rotting logs. Bees are thereby attracted to the fields and are associated with increased crop yield. Utilization by the Kayapó of major stingless bee species is summarized in Table 8.7 (see also Chapter 12). The Kayapó also manipulate the movement of game animals by intentionally dispersing agricultural fields at variable distances from the village. Vegetation of the natural reforestation cycle in abandoned fields attracts and supports hunted species. The use of abandoned fields, therefore, helps to ensure an easily available source of game. Management of ‘abandoned fields’ A great misconception about traditional indigenous agriculture is that fields are totally abandoned after a few years.11 In this ‘slash and burn’ system, new fields are created each year in forested areas and the principal production from domesticated plants culminates in two to three years. However, fields are not abandoned after this period as commonly believed. Kayapó ‘abandoned’ fields, for example, continue to produce harvests of yams and taro for five to six years, bananas for 12–15 years, urucu for 20 or more, and kupa for at least 30 years. Of great importance is the Kayapó’s use of ‘abandoned’ fields (capoeira) to gather plants and plant products produced in the natural reforestation sequence. A representative inventory of these plants can be found in Table 8.3. Research is currently underway to determine a more complete botanical inventory in ‘abandoned field’ sites in Amazonia. Old fields also produce a variety of foods that attract wildlife such as porcodo-mato, coati, deer, paca, agouti and others (Table 8.2). Many birds, particularly sparrows, macaws and parrots, are also attracted to old fields and are hunted in the relatively open capoeira areas. Young Kayapó boys are nearly self-sufficient in protein intake, and small birds are a major dietary resource (Posey 1979c; Posey 1979e). The Kayapó are aware of the attractiveness of old fields to wildlife populations and purposefully disperse their fields great distances from their villages. Thus game is attracted in artificially high densities, improving yields from hunt-

Melipona rufiventris ✓ ✓ ✓ Melipona compressipes ✓ ✓ ✓

Partamona sp.

Frieseo-melitta sp. Trigona amalthea

Trigona dallatorreana

Trigona cilipes Scaura longula Oxytrigona tataira

Oxytrigona sp.

Oxytrigona sp.

ngài-kumrenx ngài-re

ngài-kàk-ñy

mykrwàt udj`y

kukraire

mehnòra-kamrek mehnòrã-t`yk kagnàra-krã-kamrek

kangàrà-krã-tyk

kangàrà-udja-ti

all year average ✓ dry average season all year much all year little all year little all year average ✓ all year average ✓ all year average ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

Melipona seminigra

ngài-ñy-t`yk-ti

all year very much dry average season all year average all year much

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓ ✓

***

**

***

*

**

****

Apis mellifera

ngài-peré-`y

✓ ✓

Scientific name

Kayapó name

Aggressive2

Honey

Util. Cer. Med.Seasonal Amount Larvae Pupae Pollen Resin eaten eaten eaten used

Wax use1

Table 8.7 Principal species of Apidae utilized by the Kayapó Indians

Bee parts mixed with urucu for hunting magic Break off limb with nest and run to expel bees Has shiny eyes like jaguar Used for hunting magic Cut entire tree to take honey Bees cause blisters on skin Bees used in hunting magic

Honey taken during new moon Bee parts used for hunting magic Wax used for me˜-kutôm Has markings like the ‘ants’ Wax used in magic to make enemy weak

Distinctive traits

Scientific name

Oxytrigona sp. T. pallens Trigona sp. Trigona fuscipennis Trigona [?] chanchamayoensis Partamona sp. Tetragona sp.

Tetragona sp.

Tetragona sp.

Tetragona goettei T. quadrangula

Frieseomelitta varia

Trigona spinnipes

Trigona branneri

Kayapó name

kangàrà-ti my`re ngôi-tênk djô imrê-ti-re

kukoire-kà õ-i

tôn-my`

r˜i

mehr-xi-we’i m˜enire-udgà

mehnõdjành

mehñy-kamrek

mehñy-tyk

Table 8.7 Continued

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓

✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

✓ ✓ ✓

much

average

average little

dry little season dry little season dry little season

all year average all year average

all year dry season dry season all year

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

*

*

*

*** *

average ✓ average average little little ✓

✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ all year all year all year all year all year

Aggressive2

Honey


Wax use1

Bee thought to be ‘stupid’ and weak Found only in the Xingu Opening of nest like a vagina Smoke from wax used for curing Wax burned; smoke causes dizziness

Nests in termite nests Very acidic honey; fell entire tree Fell tree to take honey

Wax used for m˜e kutôm Sometimes fell tree Live in termite nests Live in termite hills Live in ant nests

Distinctive traits

2

*

✓

✓ ✓ ✓ dry little season

Aggressive2

Honey


Wax use1

Bee deposits drops of resin on skin

Distinctive traits

Wax use: utilitarian; ceremonial; medicinal. Nests of aggressive bees are raided using smoke and fire to expel bees first (***very aggressive; **moderately aggressive; *slightly aggressive).

Trigona fulviventris

djô

1

Scientific name

Kayapó name

Table 8.7 Continued

78


ing efforts. The Kayapó men hunt while the women tend the gardens, making longer hunting treks less necessary to acquire meat. The Kayapó thus do not have a clear-cut demarcation between fields and forest, nor between wild and domesticated. Rather they have a more general system for classification of ecological resources that forms a continuum between wild and domestic ones, all of which figure in integrated management strategies. Adaptations of indigenous agriculture Slash/burn agriculture has too often been considered primitive and inefficient. Scientists now recognize that indigenous agriculture is more complicated and better adapted to tropical conditions than previously assumed (Lovejoy and Schubart 1981). Indian fields, for example, minimize the time that soils are left exposed to the destructive heat of direct sunlight and the compounding force of tropical rains (Vickers 1976). Vegetative cover is maintained at various heights to ensure the protection of soils from rapid erosion and leaching (Schubart 1977). Indigenous agriculture also depends heavily on native plants that have been shown to be adapted to localized climatic conditions (Alvim 1981). Native plants have also been shown to be more efficient in their utilization of micronutrients and less dependent on ‘essential’ nutrients of the temperate zones soils. Although some large fields have been reported (Frechione 1981), indigenous agriculture generally relies on small dispersed fields. The geographic dispersal minimizes the epizootic growth of insect pests as well as plant diseases (Pimentel et al. 1978; Posey 1979a). Thus expensive and ecologically dangerous pesticides are unnecessary for productive slash/burn agriculture. Field dispersal, as previously indicated, also stimulates wildlife populations. Perhaps most importantly, indigenous agricultural systems always include ‘natural corridors’ between field sites. These natural corridors form valuable ecological refuges for plant and animal species (Gomez-Pompa et al. 1972; Lovejoy and Schubart 1981). Thus species are not only protected from extinction, but are reserved close at hand for re-establishment in ‘abandoned’ fields during reforestation. Indian agriculture must, therefore, be viewed as a system developed to minimize problems of crop pests, while preserving soil potential and productivity. Most importantly, the system allows for natural refuges for plants and animals that ensure success in long-term ecological planning. Natural harmony and tribal rituals Each indigenous culture has a ‘belief system’ that functions to establish a relationship between humans and the environment. Cycles of rituals and ceremonies have been shown to function as regulators of natural resources (Rappaport 1967, 1971). It is still difficult, however, to demonstrate direct relationships between social systems and ecological resource management. Attempts have been made to relate food taboos with resource protection


79

(McDonald 1977; Ross 1978) and to correlate ritual cycles with natural seasonality (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1976). The Kayapó belief system is based upon an ubiquitous belief in energy balance (Posey 1982e) similar to that described for the Desana Indians (ReichelDolmatoff 1978). All living objects are endowed with this universal energy and, therefore, all life is to be revered and protected. Energy is encapsulated in living forms, but leaves the physical form (whether plant, animal or human) at death, and is guarded as ghosts and spirits thereafter. Eventually spirit energy is reconstituted into new life.12 The whole energy transformation process takes a conceptually long period of time that cannot be precisely measured or expressed by the Kayapó; nonetheless, there is a sense of ‘natural’ rate of plant and animal exploitation that, if exceeded, will upset the energy transformation process and thereby upset the natural energy balance. The Kayapó have specific rituals before and after each trek to hunt or collect plants in order to placate those spirits that will be dispossessed from their physical forms through death. The annual ecological cycles are likewise ritually punctuated to mark the maize and manioc seasons. Other festivals celebrate the hunting ‘seasons’ for land turtle, tapir, anteater and other game animals. The onset of the rainy season is marked by the appearance in the gallery forests of troops of monkeys, which is symbolically commemorated by a festival with dancers in monkey masks. Each Kayapó ceremony requires a specific array of natural objects for the completion of the associated ritual (a particular type of feather, plant or beeswax, for example). This requires an organized trek to procure the needed materials, which leads the Kayapó to different ‘resource islands’ over a vast area. Since needed materials vary with each ritual, the ritual cycle causes the Kayapó to systematically exploit different ecological zones associated with diverse ‘resource islands’. Without the natural ritual cycle, life would cease to perpetuate itself for the Kayapó. All ceremonies and rituals that are essential for the transformation of life-giving energy are controlled by tribal elders, chiefs and shamans. Thus ecological management is entrusted to the highest level of Kayapó leadership and given utmost priority. The Kayapó theory of illness also operates on a concept of energy balance. Sickness results when this balance is destroyed by over-killing or over-collecting plants and animals, or through eating taboo foods. Refusal to participate in necessary rituals and ceremonies can also destroy the healthy balance. Thus each individual has an intimate stake in maintaining ‘ecological’ health, although the general ecological control mechanism is the ritual cycle that is controlled and managed by tribal leaders.

80


A concluding plan for the future The above general outline suggests various fields of research based on indigenous models of ecology in the Amazon Basin. Although many Indian societies are already extinct, and most of those remaining face imminent destruction, there is still time to protect these people and to salvage knowledge about the Amazon from surviving indigenous systems. Research must proceed, however, with the utmost urgency and commitment, for with the disappearance of each indigenous group the world loses an accumulated wealth of millennia of human experience and adaptation. Based on ecological lessons learned from the Kayapó Indians of Brazil, I have proposed that Western science systematically collect data in the following categories of indigenous knowledge: ●

●

● ● ●

●

●

●

concepts of ecological zoning and perceptions of resources within each ecological zone; knowledge of animal behaviour and plant–animal–human relationships in various ecological zones; use of transitional categories of ‘natural’ ecological divisions; classification and description of domesticated plant species; classification and description of wild and semi-domesticated plant species, including focused studies of ‘resource islands’, ‘forest fields’ and the whole system of ‘nomadic agriculture’; manipulation of wild and semi-domesticated animal species as an integral part of ecological management; adaptation of slash/burn agriculture and the range of variations of the system in Amazonia; strategies of long-term exploitation and management of abandoned fields and secondary forests; recognition of ecological and evolutionary interrelationships expressed in myth, ritual and ceremony.

Although scientific knowledge of indigenous ecological systems is still at a fledgling stage, there are already clear lessons to be learned from Amazonian Indians. Based on what has already been learned from the Kayapó Indians, the following recommendations can be made for a more ecologically sound programme of development for Amazonia: ●

●

●

●

Recognition of specific ecological zones and variations in associated biotic communities and soil types, coupled with localized agricultural adaptation. Greater dependency on native plants which are better adapted to climate and soil conditions of Amazonia. Maximized use of vegetative cover to protect fragile tropical soils, and diversified planting to utilize naturally evolved biological communities. Use of long-term strategies to utilize ‘abandoned’ fields left to fallow. This would include use of semi-domesticated plants and manipulated animal


●

●

●

81

species, as well as wild species, in an overall management scheme including crop rotation. Limiting the size of fields to prevent epizootic surges of insect and disease pests, thereby reducing the dependency on costly and ecologically dangerous chemical products. Use of ‘natural corridors’ between fields to serve as natural refuges for animal and plant life. This would not only preserve biological diversity, but also would ensure rapid reforestation and preservation of Amazonia’s rich ecological systems. Final lessons from the Indians would be to suggest that science must relate its environmental theories in such a way as to show the relevance of ecological balance to each and every individual, thus giving everyone a stake in its conservation.

Furthermore, self-sufficiency and independence of communities should be the underlying goal of all development projects, with self-reliance being the fundamental philosophy. Then and only then can development proceed with sustained benefits for the population as a whole without exploitative resource destruction for short-term benefit for the few.

The ideological bridge If Indians are to participate with freedom and cultural integrity in a multi-ethnic, technologically-centred modern Brazil, then they must be respected for the strengths and accomplishments of their societies. This chapter attempts to show that indigenous knowledge of the Amazon is a valuable human resource, and an untapped source of information about natural resources. Indigenous ecological systems and agricultural strategies offer new models for the scientific development of the Amazon without the irreversible destruction that characterizes present efforts. If indigenous knowledge is taken seriously by modern science and incorporated into research and development programmes, Indians will be appreciated for what they are – ingenious, intelligent and practical people, who have successfully survived thousands of years in Amazonia. This approach provides an ‘ideological bridge’ whereby indigenous peoples can participate in the building of a modern Brazil with the esteem and respect they deserve. Moreover, it is clear that indigenous peoples and their systems of ecological management must be protected in order to develop with maximum freedom through processes established by their own cultural and social rules.

Chapter 9

Wasps, warriors and fearless men: ethnoentomology of the Kayapó Indians of Central Brazil 1

Introduction Most of the data analysed in this chapter were collected in the Kayapó village of Gorotire, which was the base camp for this 14-month project because of its accessibility and the presence of some bilingual (Kayapó and Portuguese) Indians. Gorotire was originally established as an ‘attraction’ village that was well-stocked with medicines and trade items to ‘attract’ unpacified Kayapó groups. As a result, the Gorotire population is a heterogeneous group. Nearly 20 per cent of the village are Xikrin (a related Northern Kayapó group), one per cent are non-Kayapó (originally children captured during raids and raised as Kayapó), and ten per cent have immigrated to Gorotire from other Kayapó groups within the past five years. This lends to Gorotire a ‘syncretic’ air: the tribal elders are often heard arguing over whose version of a story or ceremony is the ‘proper’ one. Thus it should not be assumed that Gorotire is a village that agrees even upon its own lore and mythology. Certain aspects of Kayapó culture, however, are more rigidly defined, or, if variation does occur, it is in a highly predictable manner. This chapter deals with cultural phenomena that conform to this pattern: the principles underlying the Kayapó entomological classification system. Ecological profile The Kayapó have traditionally been considered ‘marginal’ peoples poorly adapted to their environment (Steward and Faron 1959). They have been pictured as exiles from savannas and inadequately adjusted to the region of Central Brazil (Levi-Strauss 1958). Bamberger (1967) refuted this misconception by pointing out that sociological factors, not ecological limitations, were responsible for the size of Kayapó villages. The Kayapó are abundantly adapted to the diversity of the campomato ecosystems in which they are found and dietary essentials are obtained with minimal effort and time (Posey 1979c). There is evidence that aboriginally the Gorotire population was eight to ten times larger than today (Posey 1979a). The great amount of time spent in the presentation of intricate and time-consuming artefact production, plus frequent performances

Wasps, warriors and fearless men

83

of elaborate rituals and ceremonials, hardly seems to reflect a group pushed to the brink of marginal survival. Kayapó villages have traditionally been located near both campo and mato. This allows exploitation of various ecosystem types and maximizes the potential for utilization of natural products and game. This diversity has given the Kayapó a greatly varied diet that requires minimal effort. To the east of Gorotire there are vast expanses of ‘campo cerrado’ and ‘cerradão’, and in other directions lie deciduous forest, ‘mato de segunda classe’, whilst ‘gallery forest’ is found along the Rio Fresco (see Cole 1960 and Hueck 1966 for a discussion of these ecological types). Elevation at Gorotire is approximately 1,000 metres. There is a marked dry season (May to August), with hot, windy days and cool nights. The peak of the rainy season is in February, when the Rio Fresco reaches its maximum. Annual rainfall is approximately 1,700 millimetres.

Methods Research was at first limited to work with the six men and three women who spoke Portuguese. Although an attempt to learn and utilize Kayapó was made from the onset of the project, it was seven months before eliciting could be carried out in the indigenous language. The type of data gathered reflects these stages of the project. One of the first tasks begun was to establish an insect collection. Frequent field trips were taken for the sole purpose of collecting as many different organisms as possible in categories the Indians loosely grouped together. Four to five Indians accompanied the researcher on collecting forays. The researcher began the process by capturing a large grasshopper. The Indian assistants responded by capturing dozens and dozens of other grasshoppers. The researcher attempted to widen the selective process by capturing a dragonfly. The Kayapó assistants responded with dozens upon dozens of captured dragonflies. The researcher continued to try to widen the parameters of ‘acceptable’ things by pointing out butterflies, then beetles, and finally cicadas. ‘Are these relatives?’ the researcher asked, pointing to the insects already collected and those still uncaptured, in an effort to determine if a notion of relatedness existed. ‘Yes,’ responded the Kayapó assistants. ‘Then capture all of the relatives of these (pointing to insects already collected) you can!’ The result was hundreds and hundreds of the same insects, depending upon the frequency of certain insects at the time. It was impossible to explain to the assistants why 300 of the same thing was unnecessary. But eventually the range of ‘relatives of insects’ (consistently called ‘maja’) expanded in what was assumed to be a reflection of native ideas of relatedness. After three months of this type of collecting, it appeared the lateral expansion of the category was completed. The category included all insects, scorpions, spiders, ticks, centipedes, millipedes, crayfish and pseudoscorpions. The category maja has a one-to-one correspondence with the scientific category of phylum Arthropoda.

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As the collection progressed, it became apparent that most organisms were grouped into very generalized categories. If there were no consistent subgroupings (i.e. no named or unnamed differentiations) the specimens in that group were boxed and sent to the Museu Goeldi for classification and storage in the Museu collections.2 If any evidence of subdivisions did exist, however, the specimens were retained in the village for further study. In the village, informants were asked to: a) name each specimen, and b) group those specimens that were the same (abenkot) or similar (õmbiqua). In this manner, it was determined that covert (unnamed) groupings exist that correspond in a one-toone fashion with the scientific class Arthropoda. Further subgroupings were few, except for the covert category corresponding to the scientific class Insecta. Eighteen subclasses (‘forms’) were found in this category (Table 9.1). Each specimen was numbered and each number was recorded in a master notebook. This notebook contained essential field data on the specimen, plus a sketch or field identification notation if possible. If appropriate, entries were also made regarding the cultural use of the insect or any peculiar circumstances under which the specimen was collected. (Often Indians would bring a specimen to be examined because they thought it interesting, unusual or particularly significant.) Groupings of insects were tabulated initially for six men and three women; the maximal number of insects utilized in these sorting experiments was 635. Informants conducted the grouping activities on three different occasions, each time with actual insect specimens. The identification number of each specimen grouped was recorded for each category. ‘Informant error’ was treated as problematic since patterns in ‘error’ were soon evident and eventually predictable. Based on these data, four types of ‘forms’ were identified (see Table 9.2): ●

Focal form: those consistently labelled and grouped in the same way and considered ‘typical’ of the category. These forms are best illustrated as ‘fuzzy

Table 9.1 Arthropod groups Class/order

Common name

Kayapó name

Arachnoidea (a) Scorpionida (b) Pseudo-scorpionida (c) Phalangida (d) Aranea (e) Acarina Crustacea Diploda Chilopoda Insecta

scorpions pseudoscorpions harvesters spiders mites/ticks crawfish millipedes centipedes insects

makre makkryre hehpati heh ten maj morokreruti kekek (covert)

} }

Correlation

mak heh

1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1


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Table 9.2 Levels of correspondence for insects BOL categories1 Focal forms: l màrà 2 ipoi 3 kapo 4 krytkan˜et 5 wewe 6 kanenet 7 kokot 8 pure 9 kopre 10 rorote 11 mrum 12 amuh 13 mehn Collective forms: 14 ngôire Aberrant forms: 15 karere Transitional forms: 16 kapoti 17 kungont 18 mehnkamamuh 1

Common name

Correspondence levels

Correlation2

beetle true bug cockroach grasshopper, cricket butterfly, moth dragonfly leafhopper, cicada fly fly termite ant social wasp bee

order (Coleoptera) order (Hemiptera) (family: Blattidae) order (Orthoptera) (various orders) order (Odonata) order (Homoptera) order (Diptera) order (Diptera) order (Isoptera) (family: Formicidae) (family: various) (family:Apidae)

1:1 1:1 # 1:1 – 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 1:1 # # #

minute insects

(various)

earwig

order (Dermaptera)

giant roach, mantid solitary bee and wasp honey wasp

order (Dictyoptera) (various) (Genus: Brachygastera)

1:1 # # #

BOL (Basic Object Level categories)

2

Correlations stated in relation to correspondences at the scientific level of Order (# indicates an overdifferentiation; – is underdifferentiation).

●

●

●

sets’ (cf. Gardner 1976; Kempton 1978) with certain members being more focal and others being more peripheral. Transitional forms: those consistently ‘mislabelled’ between two categories. These forms are viewed as being ‘like’ two groups that are contiguous categories in a morphological sequence. Aberrant forms: those consistently labelled in one category, but given a special name because of unusual morphological characteristics. Collective forms: those consistently given the same name and grouped together, although informantss: those consistently labelled and grouped in the s point out members of a collective class may not ‘really’ be the same. In the one collective form discussed in the chapter, small flies (ngôire), members of the category were considered too small to have significant morphological features and were illustrated with small dots.

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Utilizing tabulated responses and informant sorting responses, it was possible to link 18 named groupings into a more generalized pattern. These groupings seem to best coincide with the criteria of ‘Basic Object Level’ (BOL) categories (cf. Dougherty 1978; Rosch et al. 1976). Informant drawings and statements showed that the underlying patterns of these subordinate groupings were based on recognition of gross morphological features.

Discussion Patterns in folk entomological classification For the Kayapó all things are divided into four categories: i) things that move and grow, i.e. animals; ii) things that grow but do not move, i.e. plants; iii) things that neither move nor grow, i.e. minerals; and, iv) humans, creatures that are akin to all animals, yet unique and more powerful than most animals because of their social organization. It is the covert (unnamed) category of ‘animal’ with which this chapter is particularly concerned. All animals are subdivided into two named groups: those with ‘flesh’ (called by the name ‘mry’), and those with ‘shells’ and no flesh (called ‘maja’). This latter group, animals with shells and no flesh, coincides with the scientific phylum Arthropoda. Further folk subdivisions correlate with the five scientific classes of Arthropoda (Table 9.1). Although the folk grouping that corresponds with ‘insects’ is covert, there is a 1:1 relationship with the scientific class Insecta. There are four morphological ‘sequences’ within this grouping (Figure 9.1). The term ‘morphological sequence’ refers to a continuum of traits that unite a series of Basic Object Level categories. The sequence may be an uninterrupted continuum with overlapping members between contiguous categories along the continuum; or there may be interruptions in the continuum. To bridge this gap, named transitional forms may occur to produce intermediate categories (Table 9.2). Sequence 1 Let us look at ‘Sequence 1’ (Figure 9.1) as an example. There is a continuum of gross morphological form from the ovate ‘polar form’ to the oblong ‘polar form’. Within this sequence can be found two distinct complexes: COMPLEX A

This includes that part of the overall sequence from beetles (màrà) to hemipterans (ipoi) to roaches (kapo). All forms in this complex have leathery outer wings or protective wing covers; their general form ranges from ovate to oblong. Considerable ambiguity occurs between these three forms – that is, certain beetles are consistently classified as màrà and ipoi, but never is there overlap between


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Figure 9.1 Insect sequences and complexes (based on drawings by Irã Kayapó).

màrà and kapo. Likewise many ipoi are classified as màrà, but also as kapo. No kapo, therefore, are co-classified with màrà. The earwig karere is an aberrant form. It is consistently classified as a type of kapo, but is singled out because of its morphological distinctiveness (mainly because it has rudimentary wings and ‘pincers’ on its abdomen) and given a special monomial label.

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The overall sequence is interrupted with the transition from kapo to krytkan˜et, i.e. from cockroaches to grasshoppers, although the morphological form continues toward elongation. This break is clearly due to the presence of large wings that become sufficiently conspicuous to define the perimeters of the animal’s shape. There is a transitional group, kapoti or giant cockroaches, that bridges this gap. The large wings and elongated bodies of this group cause them to be co-classified with kapo and krytkan˜et. This transitional form has a distinctive name and coincides with the scientific family Blattidae. COMPLEX B

The sequence (‘Sequence 1’) continues the second complex (Complex B). In Complex B we have three overlapping genera: grasshoppers (krytkan˜et), butterflies (wewe) and dragonflies (kanenet). The polar form is the dragonfly, whose form is distinctive because of its extremely elongated abdomen and four wings. Sequence 2 This sequence consists of a single complex called kokot. The continuum within the complex is one of smallness to largeness – the leafhoppers being considered the ‘children’ of the larger cicadas. There is something of a form sequence from the slightly rounded leafhoppers to the ovate cicadas, but this is insignificant to most informants. Sequence 3 This sequence consists of a single complex of flies. It includes two object level categories: tiny flies (kopre) and mosquitoes (pure), biting flies and pium. There is, as is expected, overlapping between contiguous categories and minor morphological form gradation from ngôire (tiny flies, which are drawn as small dots) and more slender mosquitoes. Sequence 4 This sequence is composed of three distinct object level categories in Complex A: termites (rorote), ants (mrum) and wasps (amuh). Complex B is composed of the single category honey bees (mehn). The break in the morphological sequence comes between wasps and bees. This is attributable to the anomalous nature of bees, for they are the only shelled animal maja with major economic benefit. There are intermediate forms to bridge this functional gap. These intermediate forms are bees that make no honey and are solitary kungont, and social wasps that do produce wax and honey (mehnkamamuh). This is the only named sequence, being called ‘ñy’. This name refers to the social nature of these insects; the name is also used to label the immature forms


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(larvae and pupae) that the Indians say are carried about like children in the insects’ ‘villages’ (or u˜ r˜ukwa). The ñy or social insects are seen to be in a special relationship to man because of their communal nature. All ñy colonies (˜ur˜ukwa) are thought to have a chief (õ-benadjwyrà) and be organized into family units just like the Kayapó. They are known to have warriors and the sounds of their movements are likened to Kayapó movements and singing. The Kayapó are aware that some ñy really live alone – that is, there are solitary forms. But they see these as socially aberrant types that used to live in a ‘village’ but for some reason now live alone. Solitary bees and wasps are like certain Kayapó who go off alone maybe for years on spirit quests, or are like shamans, who are solitary by nature. These insects are associated with the manipulation of spirits and are important ingredients in the concoctions of shamans. In short, their anomalous nature in relation to other social Hymenoptera and Isoptera make them important tools in the manipulation of natural powers by shamans. These aberrant forms are labelled with primary lexemes, although they are consistently classified as a subgroup of the category amuh, social wasps. Except for ‘Sequence 4’ (termites, ants, bees and wasps), specific taxa are few for insects; subspecies are even fewer. Affixes denoting colour, texture, size (or age), or some other general feature are frequently attached to the primary (1o) lexemic label of the generic category. An informant may choose any of a number to describe a specimen. Thus, màrà-tyk-ti means big, black beetle and the label may apply to any one of many beetles that are big and black. But the same beetle might also be called màrà-krã-ti, big-headed beetle, if it were black and also had a big head. Occasionally a descriptive (or secondary lexeme) label may be reserved for a particular, limited set of insects. Within the beetle category is such an example, màràtire or dung beetles (Scarabidae). Each insect group (BOL category) has a ‘father’ (bam). The ‘father’ is usually the largest member of the group. The ‘father’ of the màràtire is the impressive rhinoceros beetle (Strataegus, Scarabaeidae). It is called the krã-kam-djware and is also considered the ‘chief’ (õ-benadjwyrà) of all insects (really all maja). There are, however, only a few examples of this specific naming in Kayapó insect classification – except, as I have said, within ñy ‘Sequence 4’, the social insects. There are 32 subgroupings of ants (mrum); 48 subgroupings of wasps (amuh); and 57 subgroupings of bees (mehn). These specific and subspecific groups are generally labelled with secondary (2o) lexemes. But why does this specialized classification occur within the sequence ñy? The importance of bees is obvious: they are sources of honey and wax. But of what significance are wasps and ants? Already we know these animals are like man because they live in societies like the Kayapó: they have villages, chiefs and warriors. But so do termites, yet there are only four subdivisions of termites (rorote). This is certainly not due to a paucity of termite types in the Kayapó area. To understand this situation, we must understand one of the most significant of Kayapó myths: the story of the ancient fight with the giant rhinoceros beetle, the krã-kam-djware. In ancient times the Kayapó lived in the sky with other animals.

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The Kayapó were then like other animals and Indians could understand animal languages. But in these ancient days, the Kayapó were weak and did not live in villages or have societies. Indians were not more powerful than other animals and certain animals, especially the beetles (màrà) under the leadership of their ‘chief’, the krã-kam-djware, waged war against men. In the ancient days, in the sky, the Kayapó learned to organize themselves into groups and live in villages like the ñy (wasps and ants). Then in a great battle in those ancient times, the valiant and fearless warriors of the Kayapó defeated the krã-kam-djware. That defeat established man as a creature more powerful than other animals because of two things: i) the power came from the social organization, and ii) the great strength and valiance of the Indian warriors that had also come from the wasps. The Kayapó had learned the wasps’ secrets by carefully observing the behaviour of wasps and had learned of their ‘power’ that could be obtained through their potent stings. The venom of the wasps had been the secret; the aggressive, fearless attacks of the wasps had been the model for Indian warriors. Today, on regular occasions the Kayapó commemorate the acquisition of these secrets and their victory over the krã-kam-djware. They are constantly searching for the nest of the most powerful and aggressive wasp (the amuh-djà-ken: Polistes testacolor). When a nest is found that is sufficiently large (usually 1.5 metres long, 0.5 metres in diameter), scaffolding is erected (by night when the wasps are inactive) to prepare for a re-enactment of the ancient event. In the numbing cold of a grey pre-dawn haze, the entire village goes solemnly to the site. The warriors dance at the foot of the scaffolding and sing of the secret strength they received from the wasps to defeat the giant beetle. The women wail ceremonially in high-pitched, emotional gasps as the warriors, two-by-two, ascend the platform to strike with their bare hands the massive hive. Over and over again they strike the hive to receive the stings of the wasps until they are semi-conscious from the venomous pain. This ceremony is one of the most important to the Kayapó: it is a re-affirmation of their humanity, a statement of their place in the universe, and a communion with the past. Time and space collapses to provide the unity of being – the continuity of life, history, identity and knowledge. The wasp’s nest itself is a symbolic statement of this unity. Its three-dimensional shape illustrates the relationships between the polar forms of the classification morphology – the ovate and elongate forms (Figure 9.2). A crosssectional view – or view from above or below (Figure 9.3) – shows the circular form; a lateral view shows the elongate form. The nest is a graphic study of the relationship between these shapes. Even more importantly, the general structure of the hive itself serves as a model of the universe (Figure 9.3). The hive is divided into parallel ‘plates’ that seem to float just like the layers of the universe. The Kayapó say that today they live on one of the middle plates. But in ancient days, they believe they lived on another plate above the sky. Some Kayapó still live on an upper plate, the tribal elders say, and their campfires are the stars in the sky.


Figure 9.2 A drawing by Irã Kayapó of the wasp nest (amuh u˜ r˜ukwa).

Figure 9.3 Cross-section of a wasp nest (drawing by Irã Kayapó).

91

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And below? From the lower plates come the ‘worthless men’ (non-Kayapó, kub˜en-kakrit). Many kub˜en-kakrit still live below, though most have already ascended to ‘this earth layer’ through a termite mound. Termites are in alliance with ‘worthless people’ and termites themselves are worthless. They are weak (rêrêkre) and cowardly (wajabore) and, although they appear to live like Indians and social insects, they are neither brave (akrê) nor strong (tytx) like wasps or Kayapó warriors. No Indian would, therefore, find value in studying termites (rorote). They are subgrouped only according to whether they are white, red or black – the skin colours of non-Kayapó ‘worthless people’. (A fourth subgrouping labels the termite that lives in the mound through which came the kub˜en-kakrit.) And what of ants? They are more like men than even wasps because they walk and hunt on the ground. The Kayapó believe that ants too have special powers because of their stings. But the power received from ants is more useful in man’s hunting ally – the dog. Ants are used in many concoctions to make a hunting dog unafraid to keep his nose to the ground and to make him aggressive. Some ants are seen as excellent hunters, so often man and dog are adorned for the hunt with the sacred red urucu paint mixed with ant parts. To be good hunters, therefore, the Kayapó must know ants, just as they must know wasps to be brave and fearless warriors.

Conclusion In conclusion, I believe ethnomethodology can lead the ethnographer into fields of investigation along natural (emic) paths. Folk taxonomies are in and of themselves cultural statements, but it appears that these taxonomies may reflect deeper cultural patterns. This analysis indicates that insects are encoded at a ‘Basic Object Level’ with the predominating characteristic being gross morphology (shape) that grades from the ovate form to the elongate form. These two ‘polar forms’, and the relationships between these forms, become an underlying principle for Kayapó folk entomological classification as well as a spatial and structural theme in the belief system. It is therefore suggested that the correlations between a) basic shapes and forms, b) belief system patterns, and c) classification principles, may be more closely integrated than previously expected. It appears that belief systems can play an important role in classification patterns and that such patterns can, in turn, offer an emic guide to cultural realities of perception.

Chapter 10

Hierarchy and utility in a folk biological taxonomic system: patterns in classification of arthropods by the Kayapó Indians of Brazil 1

Introduction Papers by Hayes (1982) and Hunn (1982) have attempted to provide a utilitarian/ adaptionist framework for folk biological classification studies. Hunn (1982: 830) outlines a fundamental contradiction between a utilitarian ‘natural core model’ and the traditional, formal hierarchy model of Berlin (1973, 1976) and Berlin et al. (1966, 1973). Hunn correctly points out that ethnobiologists have woefully ignored the practical, utilitarian aspects of folk classification: he is, however, unnecessarily polemic in his critique of hierarchical models. This chapter presents data to suggest that there is no ‘fundamental contradiction’ between hierarchical and utilitarian models, but rather confusion between process of classification and purpose for classification. All societies classify some natural phenomena utilizing processes of culturally influenced categorization (cognitive categories) organized in logical patterns distinctive to that society (taxonomic structures). These processes can be studied as cognitive/perceptual phenomena (e.g. Hunn 1976; Kay 1971; Rosch 1978) or as classificatory/logical phenomena (e.g. Berlin 1972, 1973, 1976; Brown 1977, 1979). The latter inevitably demonstrates hierarchical characteristics of ethnotaxonomic rank. Description and analysis of classification processes, however, do not explain why in any given society certain natural domains are classified and named while others are not. This question is best investigated from the utilitarian/adaptionist approach. Data in this chapter show a correlation between the degree of subordinate differentiation (i.e. differentiation below the Basic Object Level and utilitarian significance. Superordinate categories (i.e. groupings above the Basic Object Level) are of two types: (i) named categories that appear to be indicators of epistemological (symbolic or mythological) significance, and (ii) generally unnamed (covert) categories that reflect ‘chaining’ (i.e. loose groupings based on perceived similarities in morphology, behaviour or use). Utilitarian significance is therefore encoded at the subordinate level, while symbolic importance of a domain is signalled by named superordinate categories. Thus, hierarchical structures in the Kayapó taxonomic system are indicative of ‘utility’, either practical or symbolic.

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Basic Object Level forms and morphological sequences Data analysed in this chapter were collected in Gorotire, the largest of the northern Kayapó villages in the Brazilian State of Pará. Consult Posey (1979e) for a detailed description of research design and methods used for folk taxonomic and ethnoentomological investigations. The most psychologically salient of the taxonomic units in the Kayapó ethnobiological classification system are Basic Object Level (BOL) categories. BOL categories reflect ‘natural discontinuities’ in nature (cf. Hunn 1975, 1976, 1977) by classifying natural units characterized by variations in morphological forms. Other characteristics – such as colour, sound, smell, texture, movement, etc. – may be simultaneously encoded, but general shape or form is the fundamental criterion for BOL discrimination. Four morphological sequences are found for mry kati in the Kayapó system. Mry kati (‘false flesh’, or ‘no meat’) is an animal type of maja (‘unimportant thing’ or ‘stuff’ in American slang). Mry kati could also be considered a type of mry kaigo (‘empty meat’). The term ‘morphological sequence’ describes a continuum of morphological traits that unites a series of BOL categories. The sequence may be an uninterrupted continuum with overlapping members between contiguous BOL categories or there may be interruptions in the continuum marked by an unusual (aberrant) morphological feature. Figure 10.1 illustrates the morphological sequences for the Kayapó system of Arthropod classification (numbers refer to BOL categories in Table 9.2 and text, page 85). The Kayapó system shows four types of BOL categories. Named ‘undifferentiated utilitarian categories’ are also sometimes found that group animals of the same BOL category into a collective class because of their similar utilitarian significance. Kikrê-kam-màrà, literally ‘house beetles’, is an example in which all house ‘pests’ receive the same name, although morphologically they are said to be different.

Subordinate taxonomic groupings Groupings subordinate to BOL categories are subject to distinctive processes of characterization. Through what Hunn (1976: 512) calls ‘attribute reduction’, certain of the nebulously encoded criteria of Basic Object Level categories are selected out as distinctive features for subgroupings. These criteria often predict co-occurring sets of features (e.g. presence of hard wing covers always co-occurs with presence of wings; the presence of scaly wings always co-occurs with the presence of fuzzy-elongated abdomen, etc.). This type of ‘feature redundancy’ is referred to as ‘configurational recoding’ (cf. Hunn 1976: 513; Bruner et al. 1956: 47). These criteria can be expressed in a limited number of componential features and are more easily expressed verbally by the Kayapó than are the BOL characteristics.

Hierarchy and utility in a folk biological taxonomic system

BOL level 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

D (nhy/ñy)

C

B

A

Morphological sequence

16

8

9

95

14 10

11 12

13 18

Figure 10.1 Organization of BOL categories into four morphological sequences, only one of which is named (nhy/ñy).

The degree to which a Basic Object Level category is subject to subgroupings indicates the following: (i) the importance of that particular set of organisms to the culture as a whole, or (ii) the particular importance of that set of organisms to cultural ‘specialists’. Specialized knowledge is acquired in two ways: (i) from relatives as a part of one’s nê kretx (inheritance), or (ii) from another ‘specialist’ through apprenticeship. In a materialistic sense the Kayapó are egalitarian, but only in a materialistic sense. The ‘secrets’ or rights one inherits as part of one’s nê kretx do much to determine one’s status. This specialized information usually deals with rights to perform certain songs, dances or rituals. But one’s nê kretx might also include specialized knowledge about curing or witchcraft. There are many types of shamans for the Kayapó. Some are more powerful than others, depending partially upon the degree of specialized knowledge. Shamans are able to ‘talk to’ certain animal spirits (karõn). Some animal spirits are considered to be more powerful than others. The more powerful the shaman, the more powerful the animal spirit to which he can speak. It is through ‘talking to’ animal spirits (mry karõn kaban) that a shaman can cause or cure illnesses, predict the future, or talk to the spirits of ancestors. Only the most powerful shamans can talk to all animals.2 This means that knowledge about animals is specialized and, as a result, the subordinate classification system of animals is specialized. Two major problems are evident in eliciting subordinate insect classification systems: (i) understanding the totality of the subordinate groupings would require investigating the knowledge of each shaman, and (ii) much of this specialized knowledge is highly secretive in nature. A third factor must also be considered. There is a large group of men and women who also are ‘curers’ (m˜e-kutê-mekane-mari). These people specialize in the treatment of a number of native diseases. Their cures are effected through concoctions of plants and animal parts; no manipulation of animal spirits is utilized. There are dozens of these in any village. My partial inventory of such curers in Gorotire alone yielded a list of 154 individual specialists, which was over 25 per cent of the population. Thus, the elaboration of subordinate classification that follows reflects my very limited knowledge of the total Kayapó system of specialized insect classification.

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The categories that do show exceptional internal differentiation, either by specialists or by society as a whole, inevitably represent categories of great cultural significance to the Kayapó. Category specialization (internal differentiations) has been shown to be a useful methodological tool and provides an emic guide to significant cultural phenomena (Posey Chapter 9, this volume). Following are the BOL categories with a brief outline of the subordinate taxonomic groupings that characterize each category. Màrà – beetles and kin The Kayapó use the term ‘relative’ (ombikwa) with variable degrees of inclusiveness. All õmbikwa are in some degree of relatedness one to the other. Thus màrà õmbikwa, relatives of beetles, are grouped together because of general features of relatedness. Each grouping of ombikwa is thought to have a ‘father’ (bam). The father is generally distinguishable as the largest specimen of the group; for most BOL categories no particular organism is consistently labelled as bam. For the category màrà, however, the rhinoceros beetle (Stataegus sp.) is specifically thought of as the father of all màrà and, indeed, of all things with shells and no flesh. The rhinoceros beetle is one of the bulkiest insects found in the tropics and sometimes reaches over 15 centimetres in length; its distinctive large ‘horns’ make it one of the most morphologically distinctive insects. The Kayapó call this beetle the krã-kam-djware, the beetle with teeth on its head. The krã-kam-djware cannot be considered a separate class of màrà, but rather is a distinctive representative of the subclass mingugu. All Scarabaeidae collected in Gorotire were classified as mingugu. The mingugu (also called màràti, or ‘big màrà’) are subdivided further into two groupings: (i) mingugu, and (ii) mingugu-ti. The ‘-ti’ affix denotes ‘largeness’; thus, the mingugu-ti are the large scarabs (of which the krã-kam-djware is the most notable example). The mingugu are the smaller scarabs and are sometimes said to be ‘children’ of the larger mingugu-ti. The category màrà has ten major subdivisions that follow to some extent the subdivisions of the scientific order Coleoptera (Figure 10.2). 1 Mingugu are characterized as having shiny, tough black shells and welldefined wings underneath. The shape of the scarab is distinctive and inevitably the key non-verbalized basis for this subgrouping. When consultants are asked how the mingugu differ from other beetles, they emphasized that mingugu are found around dung. The collection of mingugu made in Gorotire yielded only specimens of the superfamily Scarabaeidae (families including Passalidae, Lucanidae, Scarabaeidae). Some small scarabs collected were co-classified with the folk taxon ipoi. 2 Ngôi-kam-màrà are beetles characterized as living on, in or under water. The name of this group means ‘water beetles’ and includes the scientific families Dytiscidae and Gyrinidae. The fact that these beetles can swim, as well as


97

màrà

mojngo

mingugu

ngôi-kam-màrà

pyka-kam-màrà ngrot

kàràràti

mingugu mingugu-ti Figure 10.2 Subdivisions of màrà.

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

walk and fly seems to pose no problems of anomaly for the Kayapó, who are nonetheless fascinated by such abilities. Pyka-kam-màrà are ground-dwelling beetles as the name implies (màrà – of the earth). Beetles in this category are believed to be carnivorous because they are frequently found near carrion. Specimens from the following scientific families were collected as part of this folk taxon: Rhysodidae, Carabidae, Tenebrionidae, Cleridae, Cucujoidae, Cerambycidae and Chrysomelidae. Ngrot are beetles classified as being somewhat elongated and having shiny shells. The ngrot are said to live in tree bark and include all the Buprestidae or wood borers. Mojngo are weevils. These beetles are said to live on trees and shrubs. Their elongated snout serves as the diagnostic feature for this folk subclass, which coincides with the scientific families Curculionidae and Brenthidae. Kàràràti are elongated beetles that coincide with the scientific families Elateridae and Lampyridae (click beetles and fireflies). The name means light-coloured, translucent, glowing, or shiny-winged beetles. Kikrê-kam-màrà is an ‘undifferentiated utilitarian category’ of beetles that live in the house and attack stored products. Most of these beetles are Dermestidae, but various other household insects are also lumped into this category. Màrà-re is yet another undifferentiated category that includes a wide variety of beetles, including representatives of families Bostrichidae, Lyctidae and Dermestidae. Kapran-karõn are the small, rounded and colourful insects we call ‘lady beetles’. The name literally means ‘turtle image’ beetles; this group consists mostly of small coccinellids (Coccinellidae). These are principal crop pests and are sorted by female informants into a variety of covert subclasses based upon their preferred plant hosts. Màrà-puni are the hairy rove and carrion beetles. The name means ‘ugly’ or ‘repulsive’ beetles, referring to their attraction to dead and decaying animals. These beetles are sometimes co-classified with ipoi (Hemiptera) because of

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their poorly developed wings and elongated bodies. The scientific families of Silphidae and Staphylinidae are represented in this category. Continuous category set overlap occurs mostly with the blister beetles (Meloidae and Mordellidae), which are co-classified with ipoi (mostly Hemiptera). The reason for this appears to be the soft wing covers (kà, or elytra) that more closely resemble wings of ipoi than the hard ‘shells’ of true beetles. Except for the krã-kam-djware (rhinoceros beetle), there is little evidence of any particular use for beetles, nor any special symbolic or ceremonial significance. The palm weevil (Rhynchophorus ferrugineus) is given a special name, riño-krê-kam-màrà. The larvae of this large beetle is said to have been an important food of the ancient Kayapó and is still eaten by some children and old people. These larvae reach a considerable size (three or four ounces) and have excellent food value. A large green metallic wood borer (Buprestidae) is also given a special name, màrà-ñibumpre. The elytra of this beetle is commonly used in the tropical lowlands for decorative purposes.3 A series of descriptive affixes is used in conjunction with the name màrà to describe a certain specimen. These refer to colour, shape, size or texture and are used only as loose descriptive labels. Examples of name combinations are found in Table 10.1. Ipoi – true bugs and kin Ipoi are seen as having shells (kà) or wing covers that are not so tough (tytx) as most of the beetles (màrà). The ipoi are thought to live and feed on leaves of plants. The most typical of the ipoi are stink bugs (Pentatomidae) that are said to cause one’s eyes to burn (me nô kang rô) and are called ipoi kumrenx, the ‘true’ ipoi.

Table 10.1 A list of affixes used in the description of various màrà specimens Affix

Translation

Affix

Translation

‘-re’ ‘-kryre’ ‘-pr˜ire’ ‘tire’ ‘kra’ ‘kàpr˜ire’

diminutive tiny small large child (small) short shell

‘kakrãtyk’ ‘kamrek’ ‘ngrãngrã’ ‘tyk’ ‘jaká’ ‘jadjen’

jet black red bluish/greenish black white/grey shiny

Common examples:

màrà-tyk-ti màrà-pri-tire màrà-kamrek-ti

large, black beetle medium-size beetle big, red beetle


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There are four subgroupings of ipoi (Figure 10.3): 1

2

3

4

Ipoi-kumrenx are ‘true’ ipoi. The Kayapó have little to do with these insects because of the fear of being blinded by them. Shamans utilize ipoi kumrenx in various concoctions to induce or cure blindness and burning eyes. Informants easily recognized and grouped Pentatomidae specimens into this grouping on the basis of gross morphology, insisting that all insects in this group could cause harm to the eyes. Ipoi-ka’àk are ‘false’ ipoi. These do not cause the eyes to burn, but are said to inflict painful bites. The ridged thorax of these ipoi is the generalized morphological feature that characterizes the group. These are the Reduviidae or assassin bugs. Ipoi-tikà are the giant water bugs (Belostomatidae). Indians believe the ipoitikà can cause paralysis of anyone bitten by it. It is feared and avoided, except by shamans who utilize it in their crafts. Ipoi-re is an undifferentiated category that includes other Hemiptera as well as a few Coleoptera (families Meloidae and Mordellidae).

The following descriptive affixes were elicited for ipoi: ‘-jaká’ (white), ‘-ngrãngrã’ (light colour), ‘-tyk’ (black), ‘-kamrek’ (red) ‘-kryre’ (small), ‘-ti’ (large). Only the giant water beetle (ipoi-tikà) is given any specific polylexemic distinction. Kapo – cockroaches and kin Cockroaches, mantids, walking sticks, crickets and grasshoppers are generally grouped into the scientific order Orthoptera, though some authors prefer to place cockroaches and mantids into a separate order Dictyoptera. Regardless of which system is preferred, entomologists agree that these insect groups are closely related. The Kayapó likewise view these insects as closely related, and utilize three BOL groupings to distribute them: (i) kapo, (ii) kapoti, and (iii) krytkan˜et (mantids, grasshoppers and crickets). Kapo and kapoti should perhaps be viewed as two subgroupings of kapo; that is, as kapo (kumrenx) and kapoti as in Figure 10.4A. Informants consistently

kapo

ma`ra` ipoi

ipoire

ipoi-kumrenx

ipoi-ka 'a`k

ipoitika`

Figure 10.3 Subdivisions of ipoi showing some subclass overlap between màrà and ipoi, ipoi and kapo (indicated by dotted lines).

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A Kapoti as a subset of kapo

kapo

(kumrenx)

kapoti

B Kapoti as a BOL category

kapo

kapoti

krytkanet

Figure 10.4 Two possible models of set relationships between kapo, kapoti and krytkañet.

group kapoti at a level of contrast with kapo and krytkan˜et; therefore kapoti is probably best treated as a separate Basic Object Level category rather than a subclass of kapo (as in Figure 10.4B). The grouping kapo includes all insects of the suborder Blattaria, except for the extremely large winged forms of family Blattidae. The karere, earwig (Dermaptera) is seen as a special type (aberrant form) of kapo. It is shaped like a kapo, but does not have the same type of wings or abdomen. The karere are associated with dark, damp places and are believed to be an omen of illness or death. Karere are associated with spirits of the dead and whenever too many karere are seen in a house, it is assumed to be a sign of spirits in the house. The Kayapó traditionally abandon and burn a house after several deaths have occurred because of fear of spirits returning to their old homes. Kapoti – a transitional form Little can be said about the kapoti, except that they are some of the largest insects encountered in the Kayapó area. Large cockroaches of the scientific suborder Blattodea are grouped with pyranus beetles (Prioninae) in this category. The bodies of the kapoti are like those of the kapo, except that their impressively large wings cause them to be considered as relatives of krytkan˜et (grasshoppers). Kapoti are ground into a powder and used by various shamans to cause or cure illness and blindness. Specimens of this group are hoarded by shamans to prepare various concoctions. Krytka ~ net – grasshoppers and kin Grasshoppers are one of the most numerous forms of life in the Kayapó area, especially in the grasslands and transitional forest. Eight major subdivisions can be described within the category krytkan˜et (Table 10.2). 1

Moi ‘ô’ ja ‘àrà are the katydids or long-horned grasshoppers (Tettigoniidae). An extremely large species occurs in the area and is given the special name krytkañet-kàràràti. Its legs are used to treat aching or weak joints. The spiny part of the back legs are removed and scratched over the afflicted joints, sometimes until blood is drawn. Contact with the strong legs of the moi ‘ô’ ja ‘àrà is believed to impart its strength to the user. The name means ‘leaf-like’ krytkan˜et, referring to its protective coloration and leaf imitative wing veination.


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Table 10.2 Subgroupings of krytkañet (Orthoptera) with analogous scientific classifications Subgroupings

Common names

Scientific taxons

i) ii) iii) iv)

moi ‘ô’ ja ‘àrà chyrê-chyrê pàt-karoñ wêjaputchô

katydid grasshopper mantis walking stick

v) vi) vii) viii)

ngra-rêrêmex krytkañére krytkañet-ka-àk krytkañet-kumrenx

mole cricket cricket grouse locust ‘locust’

Tettigoniidae Acrididae Mantodea Phasmatidae (or Cheleutoptera) Gryllotalpidae Gryllidae Tetrigidae Acrididae

2

Chyrê-chyrê are the large grasshoppers of the family Acrididae. During the dry season these huge insects appear in great abundance. It is said that in the ancient days the Kayapó ate these as delicacies, but there is no evidence that they are still eaten today. Legs of the chyrê-chyrê are utilized for curing in the same manner as the legs of the moi ‘ô’ ja ‘àrà. The large rib vein of the upper wing is also removed from the rest of the wing and used in shamanistic ceremonies that are intended to cause or cure paralysis of victims. The name of this category is derived from the clicking flight sound made by a focal member of the category. Pàt-karoñ are the mantids (Mantodea), some of which reach six inches or more in length. The name means ‘anteater image’ and refers to the similarity perceived between the front legs of the mantis and those of the giant anteater. Indians say the mantis holds its prey in the same manner as the pàt (anteater). Wêjaputchô are the walking sticks (Phasmatidae or Cheleutoptera). The Kayapó say contact with these can cause blindness and shamans use the ground-up parts of certain species to inflict blindness. In many ways the walking stick is aberrant morphologically, particularly because of its wings. The body, head and legs, say the Kayapó, are those of krytkan˜et. I do not know the meaning of the name for this class. Ngra-rêrêmex are the mole crickets (Gryllotalpidae). Their name means ‘pretty paca’ and refers to their similarity in shape and coloration to the rodent ‘paca’. Because these crickets are heard and seen at night, they are associated with death and ghosts and are harbingers of disaster. Krytkañére are the true crickets (Gryllidae). These are distinguished by the Kayapó because of their songs and their distinctive wings. Crickets are common in Indian fields and are associated with good crops and abundant rains. They are favoured fish-bait for Indian boys, who spend hours chasing them for that purpose. Krytkañet-ka-àk are the grouse locusts (Tetrigidae). The morphological form of these is distinctive and easily recognized by the Kayapó as being ‘false’ krytkañet.

3

4

5

6

7

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8


Krytkañet-kumrenx are the true locusts (Acrididae). There are five unnamed (covert) subdivisions of this group: (i) those found in the grasslands (kapôt); (ii) those found in the transitional forest (bà-ràràra); (iii) those found in the high forest (bà-tyk); (iv) those found near rivers (ngô-kôt); (v) those found in or on the ground (pyka-kam).

No generic or specific scientific determinations were made for these subgroupings. It is interesting to note, however, that the Indians recognize certain forms (morphological types) as more ‘typical’ of the various ecological zones. There are five ecological zones recognized by the Kayapó that correspond to the five groupings of krytkañet-kumrenx listed above under 8. Informants made minimal grouping ‘error’ in sorting krytkañet-kumrenx despite the specimens being ‘out of ecological context’. The noted acridologist, Uvarov (1978: 371–444), has attempted to group grasshoppers and crickets into ‘life forms’ based on generalized morphological adaptations to particular ecosystems or ‘life zones’. Five basic ‘life zones’ recognized by Uvarov are: (i) ‘terricoles’, those living on the ground and feeding on herbs; (ii) ‘aquacoles’, those living in or on the water; (iii) ‘arboricoles’, those living on trees and woody shrubs; (iv) ‘herbicoles’, those living in dense thickets of shrubs and herbs; and (v) ‘grammicoles’, those living in grasslands. This attempt to account for phylogenetic relationships between morphological adaptation and the functional success of a species associated with ecological zones appears to coincide with the Kayapó system. The term ‘life form’ as used by Uvarov is confusing for ethnobiologists because of the current use of the same term as a general folk taxonomic unit. Perhaps ‘ecoform’ would be a less ambiguous word that could be adopted by ethnobiology. Whatever the term, I believe ethnobiologists need to follow lines of investigation that analyse native perceptions of adaptive associations between species morphology and ecosystem. Wewe – butterflies and kin The Basic Object Level category wewe could be considered as a collective form. Six orders of insects are subsumed under this one label: Neuroptera, Ephemeroptera, Plecoptera, Mecoptera, Trichoptera and Lepidoptera. The focus of the entire category is the giant morpho butterfly (Morphinae). Seven folk subgroupings occur within the basic category so that in the overall scheme the under-specialized category wewe becomes a focal category differentiated by the degree of morphological feature recognition. The subdivisions are as follows: 1

Wewe (kumrenx) are butterflies and moths (Lepidoptera). Wing scales are the distinguishing characteristic, and scales are used by shamans to treat diseases of lethargy. A covert differentiation within this category is found between night-flying and day-flying species. Moths and other night-fliers are considered omens of death or illness.


2

3

4 5

6

7

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Wewe-jaká are the mayflies (Ephemeroptera). The suffix ‘-jaká`’ (‘whitish’) is often used loosely as a descriptive affix. In this case, however, wewe-jaká labels a specific subclass of wewe. Although these appear at night, the Kayapó do not find them disturbing; on the contrary, they are always a sign of abundant fish and good fishing. Wewe-ja-àrà are the stoneflies (Plecoptera). The suffix ‘-ja-àrà’ denotes a translucent quality of the wing. This subclass defines the particular set of Plecoptera. Wewe-ka-àk are the ‘false wewe’. This category coincides with the scientific Order Mecoptera, scorpionflies. Ngôi-kam-wewe are the caddis flies (Trichoptera). The name refers to the affinity of this set of organisms for the water and areas surrounding lakes and rivers. Pingôkrã are the fish flies and Dobson flies (Corydalidae). The name literally means ‘worm head’ and refers to the sometimes elongated thorax and head of the family. Pi ´ô-ja-àrà are the lacewings and kin (all Neuroptera, except Corydalidae). The name literally means ‘leaf wings’ and is descriptive of the delicate, transparent veined wings for which the order is named.

Though generally oblivious to insect life cycles, the Kayapó are aware of the stages of metamorphosis of Lepidoptera. The eggs they call ‘ngrê’; the larvae ‘pingô’; the cocoon or chrysalis ‘krakà’ (‘child cover’). The stinging larvae of various unidentified Lepidoptera are incorporated into the rituals prescribed for warriors and are smashed on the bare chests of the young men. The intense pain is believed to impart strength and remove fear. Often the ordeal leaves scars on the chest that are sported proudly as though they were battle scars. Kokot – cicadas and kin There are only two basic subdivisions of kokot. The focus of the entire category is the large annual cicada (Cicadidae). The two subgroupings follow: 1

2

Kokot (kumrenx) are the ‘true’ kokot. This category coincides perfectly with the scientific family Cicadidae. The principal vein of the cicada’s front wing is used by shamans in sorcery. Kokot-kryre are the ‘tiny’ kokot. This category includes the treehoppers (Membracidae), froghoppers (Cercopidae), leafhoppers (Cicadellidae) and the plant hoppers (Fulgoridae). I know of no special use or significance of this subgroup.

The usual variety of non-fixed descriptive suffixes are evident: e.g. -krôre (painted), -pr˜ire (small), -tire (large), -kamrek (red), ngrãngrã (light-coloured), -tyk (black), and so on.

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Ngôire, pure and kopre – flies and kin The third sequence has three closely related Basic Object Level categories: ngôire, pure and kopre. The category ngôire is a collective one containing a myriad of small insects too small to be distinguished morphologically by the unaided eye. I did not make a collection of the insects in this category so I can only guess at the vastness of its inclusiveness. The category kopre is likewise a very nebulous category. Within this group are all flies (Diptera), except those contained in the category pure. All forms are known to have only two wings. There are no further subgroupings. The category pure is subdivided into three groups, all of which are blood-sucking and biting species: 1

2

3

Pure (kumrenx) are small blood-sucking flies. This includes the punkies (Ceratopogonidae), midges (Chironomidae) and black flies (Simuliidae). The Kayapó distinguish four types of pure kumrenx: (a) putykre black ones; (b) putire big ones; (c) pukrãkrôti spotted-headed ones; and (d) pukrãkamrek red-headed ones. Distinctions among the four are not only morphological but also biological, i.e. where they are found and the viciousness of the bites. Pute are the mosquitoes (Culicidae). There are four subdivisions of pute: (i) pute-jaká whitish ones with very painful bites; (ii) pute-pry-jaká greyish ones found in the forest along trails; (iii) putekamrek reddish ones found in open areas; and (iv) pute-tykre black ones found in the forest. Pumnuti are the deer and horseflies (Tabanidae). There are no further subdivisions of this category.

The overall relationship between kopre and pure is represented by line diagrams in Figure 10.5. The pumnuti (Tabanidae) are seen as being morphologically more similar to kopre than pure. Their fierce biting habits, however, cause Indians to place them in the category with other blood-sucking and biting species. There are more detailed subclassifications of mosquitoes and pium, but collections and analyses are yet to be made. (kopre)

kopre

pure

ngôire

pure

pute

pumnuti

Figure 10.5 Category relationships within flies and kin (kopre).


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Rorote – termites and kin Termites (Isoptera) are abundant in the Kayapó area, although the Kayapó pay relatively little attention to them. Four major subdivisions of rorote are found: 1 2

3 4

Rorot-tykre are termites that build nests in trees. These are the ‘black’ termites and are associated with the origins of black people on the earth. Rorot-krã-kamrek-ti are termites that nest in the wood of houses. These ‘redheaded’ termites are associated with the origins of other Indians (non-Kayapó) in the world. Rorot-jakare are termites that nest in the ground. These are the ‘white’ termites that are associated with the origins of Europeans in the world. Rorotire are termites that build large, greyish mounds. Termite mounds are numerous, especially on the campos, and all non-Kayapó (kub˜en-kakrit) emerged from the underworld to the earth through these mounds.

Whereas the Kayapó have a fascination and even admiration for other social insects, the termites are thought of as useless and helpless. They are weak and non-aggressive and therefore no more ‘true’ ñy (social insects) than kub˜en-kakrit (non-Indians) are ‘true’ people. True people (the Kayapó) originated above in the sky; not from below in the ground as did non-Indians. Termite nests are used in house construction, since their comb construction serves as an ideal natural insulation. Nests of Nasutitermes are also used as fertilizers, or mixed with organic mulch to create fertile planting mounds in savanna areas. On numerous occasions I observed the Kayapó eating the textured nest of ground-dwelling termites and ants. No explanation was offered other than in the ancient days the Kayapó say they ate this in place of farinha (toasted manioc flour). Geophagy is not commonly reported in indigenous cultures, but was certainly common with the Kayapó and is evident today to some extent. Mrum – ants and kin Ants (Formicidae) are a source of great interest to the Kayapó (see Chapter 9, this volume). Their social nature is thought to be similar to that of the Kayapó and, consequently, their ethology is important in classification. The major basis for subgroupings of ants is the type and location of their nests (˜ur˜ukwa). The following covert (unnamed) groupings were found: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Ants with nests in the ground. Ants with nests above ground (mound building). Ants with nests inside tree trunks. Ants with nests outside tree trunks (have visible nests attached to the tree trunk). Ants with nests inside tree limbs. Ants with nests attached to tree limbs or leaves. Ants that live with termites.

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8 9


Ants that live with bees. Ants that live alone (solitary forms).

The last grouping of solitary ants is often co-classified with wasps (amuh). These are called ‘velvet ants’ (Mutillidae), which are in fact wasps of the superfamily Scoliidae. A large ant with conspicuous winged males is likewise co-classified with rorote (Isoptera). These two examples represent set overlap between contiguous categories (rorote, mrum and amuh). Ants are often spoken of in terms of their ‘power’, or ability to inflict pain. The more potent the sting, the more powerful the ant. Some shamans specialize in ‘talking to’ powerful ant species and claim to manipulate their spirits to cause harm. The shamans have a special classification of ants based on the power of ant spirits (karõn), which is difficult to categorize in concrete terms. To date, 64 different ant folk species have been collected and described. The abdomen of the ‘saúva’ (mrum-tuti; Atta sexdens L.) is the only ant eaten. Its fat and juicy abdomen is mixed with manioc flour and baked, or whole ants may be roasted in banana leaves. Stinging ants are often collected by the Kayapó men. Ant bodies are pounded into a paste with red urucu (Bixa orellana) and painted on hunting dogs. This is supposed to cause the dogs to keep their noses to the ground and to hunt with the determination of the ants. Azteca sp. ants are thought to have a smell that repels saúva and their nests are actively distributed near fields and gardens to produce a protective barrier against saúva. Their nests are also planted with yams and taro to increase tuber yields (see Chapter 18). Amuh – wasps and kin Non-honey producing wasps and stinging bees are grouped into the category amuh. Subgroupings of amuh seem to be based on nest type (˜ur˜ukwa). Variation in identification of wasps ‘out of environmental context’ was found to be very high. Consultants were later brought to the Museu Goeldi to identify 120 wasp nests. Identification of wasp nests, however, was consistent with identifications made in the field, indicating that the Kayapó pay more attention to wasp nest construction than to wasp morphology. The principal dichotomy within the Basic Object Level category amuh is between (i) social species, and (ii) solitary species (those that do not live in u˜ r˜ukwa). Subgroupings of each of these are outlined in Table 10.3. Most social wasps are used in some form of hunting magic. Most commonly, wasp parts are mixed with urucu (Bixa orellana) and painted on the warrior. Certain wasp nests are even used to rub over the noses of hunting dogs to make them brave (akrê). To date, 85 folk species of wasps have been identified and described.


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Table 10.3 Subgroupings of amuh Subgrouping 1 Solitary amuh a amuh-poi-ti b prytumre c m`yt-te d ‘apiêt-ti e ajabamñy f pyka-õ-ñy g amuhre

h rop-krôre-karõn1 i kungont2 2 Social amuh a mingugu b mehnkamamuh c amuh (kumrenx) 1

Common names

Scientific correlate

ichneuman fly spider wasp sand wasp mud daubers thread-waisted wasps potter wasps an undifferentiated category of various families, including Symphyta velvet ant solitary bees

Ichneumonidae Pompilidae Sphecidae: Larrinae Sphecidae: Nyssoninae Sphecidae: Sphecinae Vespidae: Eumenidae

social bees honey wasps social wasps

Apidae: Apinae Brachygastra sp. Vespidae

Scoliidae, Mutillidae Xylocapinae

rop-krôre-karõn is cogrouped with mrum.

2

kungõnt is a transitional class between mehn and amuh; mehnkamamuh is a transitional class between honey-producing bees and wasps.

Mehn – honey-producing bees and kin Thus far, 56 folk species of stingless bees (Meliponinae) have been discovered for the Kayapó corresponding to 66 scientific species (Posey 1983a). Of this number, 11 species are considered to be semi-domesticated (see Chapter 12). Bees are grouped into 15 ‘families’ in addition to the 56 folk species. Criteria for determining these differentiations are complex and include the following: 1

2

Ethological characteristics: (i) flight patterns (how the bees fly when entering the nest); (ii) aggressive behaviour when the nest is disturbed (aggressive or docile); (iii) sound produced by bees in flight or by nocturnal behaviour inside nest; (iv) places bees visit, including types of flowers, dead animals, faeces, sand banks, dirt, etc. Nest structure and ecological niche: (i) substrate preferred (e.g. tree hollows, ant nests, termite mounds, inside earth, large trees, etc. In the case of trees, external nest form and position of the entrance structure is also important); (ii) ecological zone preferred (flood forest, humid forest, savanna, etc.); (iii) form, texture, colour and smell of the entrance structure (e.g. earth, resin, cerumen, vegetable fibres, etc.); and (iv) form and texture of the batumen.

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3

4


Morphological and biochemical characters: (i) shape of the bee’s body; (ii) colours of the bee; (iii) designs or markings on body; (iv) size and colour of wings; (v) size of the bee; (vi) smell of the bee (either its natural smell or when the bee is crushed); (vii) secretions produced for defence. Economic factors: (a) quality of honey; (b) quantity of honey; (c) quality of resins; (d) quality of wax and cerumen; (e) suitability of pollen for food; (f) suitability of larvae/pupae for food.

As this list of taxonomic characters indicates, the Kayapó also have a detailed knowledge of Meliponinae morphology, nest architecture, ontogeny and behaviour. Technologies and strategies for raiding nests and rearing bees are also well-developed (see Posey and Camargo 1984). The Kayapó use bee waxes, batumen, resin, pupae and larvae for a variety of purposes (Posey 1983f).

Superordinate groupings Of the 18 BOL categories found in the Kayapó system of Arthropod classification, only three show extensive differentiation at subordinate levels (amuh, wasps, with 85 folk species; mrum, ants, with 64 folk species; and mehn, bees, with 56 folk species). Following the hypothesis that such differentiation is indicative of emically significant cultural phenomena (cf. Posey 1983d), one would predict bees, wasps and ants to be of particular importance to the Kayapó. An additional indicator of the importance of these BOL categories is the named superordinate grouping of all social Hymenoptera, nhy (ñy), which includes all amuh, mrum and mehn.4 Nhy (ñy) is the only named, superordinate category in the entire domain of mrykati (animals with shells and no flesh). The phenomenon is explained by the epistemological importance of social insects to the Kayapó belief system. The Indians say that their social organization was conceived by an ancient shaman who specialized in the study of social Hymenoptera. Hoping to organize his defenceless, dispersed people against attacks from the wild beasts and enemies, the shaman had the idea to organize the Kayapó like nhy (ñy). This idea came while observing a hive of wasps (amuh-djà-kein) successfully defending themselves against an eagle (hàk) hundreds of times larger. Thus the Kayapó have long been interested in social insects as ‘natural models’. There are still specialists who study nhy (ñy) and the importance of social insects is symbolically represented in art, music and, most dramatically, ritual (see Chapter 12). The named category nhy (ñy), therefore, encodes epistemological significance in the Kayapó culture and is an indicator of symbolic cultural significance. In addition to the named, superordinate category of nhy (ñy), numerous loose, nebulous groupings can be found. These ‘cross-cut’ (cf. Gardner 1976) BOL categories recognize a variety of other characteristics held in common with other animals (Figure 10.6). Any given organism might be grouped with other organisms in numerous ways. A frog might be grouped with a water beetle because both are amphibious.


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Figure 10.6 Idealized hierarchical model showing superordinate and subordinate levels.

A turtle, an armadillo, and a lady beetle might be grouped together because all three have round, humped shells. A caterpillar might be grouped with a snake because it is long and wriggles on the ground. Stinging caterpillars might also be grouped with wasps and ants because of the nature of their stings. A flying ant might be classified with a certain hawk because both appear at the same time of the year (the hawk is migratory; the emergence of the winged ant seasonal). A type of cricket might be classified with a tapir because its front feet are seen as similar in form. The list can go on and on. In observations of superordinate groupings, I have observed four types of ‘cross-cutting’ mechanisms. Animals are grouped on the basis of: 1 2 3 4

Similar function (e.g. edibility, medicinal value, ceremonial importance, etc.). Behavioural characteristics (e.g. nocturnal animals, crepuscular animals, swimmers, etc.). Habitat (e.g. water animals, forest animals, ground-dwellers, etc.). Special cultural concerns. This type of grouping deserves some further explanation.

One of the major ways the Kayapó group animals is by the ‘power’ of their ‘spirits’ (karõn). This is an extremely difficult typology to analyse and describe, for the concepts of animal ‘power’ and ‘spirit’ are exceedingly complex. An animal’s ‘power’ is determined by the facility of the karõn in inflicting or curing illness. Every animal species has a ‘spirit’ and, theoretically, every animal can affect the human ‘spirit’ by causing or curing illness. Only the shamans, who ‘talk to’ the animal spirits, can cure a patient of the disease provoked by the spirit of that animal. Therefore, the ranking of animals based upon the ‘power’ of their ‘spirits’ is tantamount to ranking the power and prestige of shamans. Superficially certain groupings seem nonsensical. For example, the Kayapó group certain lizards, some snakes, grubs and small rodents into one category. This grouping appeared to defy reason until tribal elders were heard telling of the ancient days before the Kayapó had corn and manioc. The list of animals eaten in

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ancient times coincided with this grouping and is best glossed as ‘animals of potential use’ and offers a ‘back-up’ or emergency system that is encoded in the classification system and passed from generation to generation. Mythological principles of today can become facts of survival tomorrow.

Concluding remarks Classification of mrykati (Arthropods) by the Gorotire Kayapó offers several interesting insights into the overall patterns of folk biological classification. The 18 BOL categories grouped in morphological sequences show very little hierarchical differentiation except for the social insects (amuh, mrum and mehn), which are the only representatives to receive a named, superordinate grouping nhy (ñy). Certain BOL categories, especially krytkan˜et (Orthopterans) seem to be distinguished based upon perceived phylogenetic relationships between animal morphological form and ecological adaptation or niche. These ‘ecoforms’ merit study and offer ethnobiologists additional integrative paradigms for research. Specialization of Kayapó knowledge points to the difficulty of an overall evaluation of any complete biological/natural taxonomic system. This problem is accentuated when trying to determine the ‘utilitarian’ value of any given domain. The Kayapó data suggest that elaboration or differentiation of named subordinate (lower in hierarchical rank than BOL categories) categories, whether in the general knowledge system or only known by a few ‘specialists’, is an accurate indicator of ‘utility’ and cultural significance. No attempt has been made to determine if degree of difference is in direct proportion to significance or utility, but such a hypothesis seems feasible and deserves testing. Highly differentiated categories recognized by the society as a whole should be the strongest indicator of cultural utility or significance. ‘Utility’ is difficult to assess since it does not always include the obvious qualities of food, shelter or medicine. In the case of nhy (ñy) social insects, for example, only bees have the obvious utilitarian value of producing food, medicine and useful raw materials. Ants are utilitarian in the sense that they have qualities that are desirable to impart to hunting dogs via medicinal mixtures painted on the dogs. Wasps are important in a more abstract way as ‘natural models’ for Kayapó society, although certainly avoidance of stinging species may be considered utilitarian and influence classification. Such avoidance, however, is not the sole reason for wasp classification since only a small percentage are aggressive. The Kayapó data also suggest that categories of great symbolic or epistemological significance are not only differentiated and named at the subordinate level (usually only by ‘specialists’), but are also labelled in superordinate groupings (groupings of greater set inclusion than BOL categories). One can hypothesize, therefore, that the named superordinate groupings are indicators of symbolically significant domains.


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Kayapó classification of insects and related Arthropods is characterized by classification of ‘natural discontinuities’ in nature that produce morphologically determined Basic Object Level (BOL) categories. Organization of BOL categories is seen as a continuum of overlapping or contiguous sets called ‘morphological sequences’. Hierarchical structures emerge when any BOL category (or sequence) is of utilitarian and/or symbolic significance. Named subordinate differentiation is an indicator of ‘utility’; named superordinate groupings are indicators of symbolic significance. Thus parts of the folk taxonomic system that exhibit greater hierarchical qualities reflect recognition of ‘utility’ in its broadest sense (practical and symbolic). This resolves the apparent ‘contradiction’ between utilitarian and hierarchical models by pointing out the difference between process (essentially hierarchical) and purpose (essentially utilitarian) in folk taxonomy. Both are at work in any folk classification system and neither excludes the other in importance nor in explanatory potential.

Chapter 11

Additional notes on the classification and knowledge of stingless bees (Meliponinae, Apidae, Hymenoptera) by the Kayapó Indians of Gorotire, Pará, Brazil 1 Introduction In his initial research Posey (1983f) recorded 56 named folk species of stingless bees that are recognized and classified by the Kayapó Indians, of which nine species are considered ‘semi-domesticated’ or ‘manipulated’ by the Indians. Many of these meliponine bees are of economic importance to the Kayapó. Wax, cerumen and resin are used for artefacts; honey, pollen, and larvae are used for food; pupae are used for food and medicine; and pollen and bee parts are important in medicinal preparations (Posey 1983f). Even non-utilitarian species are known and classified by the Kayapó, who consider all social insects to be of epistemological importance. The Indians believe that an ancient shaman (wayanga), who studied social Hymenoptera behaviour, taught their ancestors how to live, work, and defend themselves like social insects (see Chapter 12). This ‘natural model’ for society is symbolically represented by the nests of Polybia spp. wasps (amuh) and ceremonially manifested in a special meliponine beeswax (cerumen) hat called m˜e kutôm (Posey 1983g, 1983d). This chapter presents additional data on the complex knowledge of the Kayapó Indians documenting further the folk science of these extraordinary experts on Amazonian biology and ecology. Our intent is not to compare our science with theirs, but rather to show how our own science can be enriched, and how insightful hypotheses can be generated through the study of ethnobiology.

Material and methods Previous research by Posey (1981a, 1983f, Chapter 12 this volume) was conducted in 1977–79 during 14 months of field research with the Kayapó. During that period, data were collected while accompanying the Indians to forests, savannas, and gardens during annual ceremonial and seasonal cycles. Two bee ‘experts’ served as principal cultural consultants, Kwyrà-kà and his son Irã. During the field period that resulted in this report (21 days during the months of August and September 1983), the original consultants were used and earlier materials were cross-checked by the oldest shaman of Gorotire, Beptopoop.

Additional notes on the classification and knowledge of stingless bees

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Although Posey’s previous fieldwork had met with few problems in acquiring data on bees, the presence of Camargo created unexpected complications. The Indians feared that his desire to collect bees would lead to the disturbance or destruction of their valued nests. Thus, it initially appeared that there had been a drastic drop in beekeeping, beekeepers, and bee nests in Gorotire since 1977–1979. However, this did not prove to be the case. In 1983, the Kayapó were simply distrustful of our curiosity about their stingless bees, and reluctant to provide information or show us their nests. Eventually, when we realized the source of complication, we were able to explain more specifically our intent and assure our hosts that their bee colonies would not be destroyed by our scientific efforts. Thereby, we were able to gain access to considerably more data, and receive more cooperative responses to our inquiries. A ‘generative methodology’ for eliciting was utilized; that is, formal questioning was held to an absolute minimum so as not to introduce our scientific paradigms into indigenous thought, thereby prejudicing responses. We simply communicated our interest in bees and let our consultants lead us to nests and tell us what they wished regarding bees and bee behaviour. When questions were necessary, the most general formulations possible were utilized: for example, ‘Tell us about the bee’s nest,’ or ‘Tell us about bee flight,’ and so on. The two major informants are fluent in Portuguese and routine conversation was carried out in that language. When consultants found difficulty in explaining any subject in Portuguese, communication shifted to Kayapó. New terms or concepts were recorded in the indigenous language and initial discussions of a new subject were carried out in Kayapó. In addition to the collection of biological materials, drawings of bee nests were made in the field. Internal architecture was sketched and photographed if nests were opened by the Indians. Ethnographic notation occurred during all phases of the field study. Drawings in this chapter are based on information provided by Kayapó consultants. Figure 11.1 is a replica of a drawing done in 1979 by Pedro Kayapó, a young Indian man (menononure) from Gorotire. Species encountered during this period of field research are listed in Table 11.1. Numbers preceding the species list refer to collection numbers in the Gorotire Kayapó collection now under the care of Professor João M. F. Camargo and stored at the Departamento de Biologia, Universidade de São Paulo, Ribeirão Preto, São Paulo, Brazil.

Results Taxonomic categories Bees (social Apidae) are grouped along with other social insects as nhy (ñy), which is the only superordinate (suprageneric) category found for Arthropoda (Posey 1984d). Adults of social insect colonies are denominated nhy – thus ants

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Figure 11.1 Reproduction of a drawing by Pedro Kayapó (made in Gorotire in 1979) showing the external form and internal structure of ku-krãi-ti (Trigona amazonensis).

Table 11.1 Species of meliponine bees encountered in the vicinity of Gorotire during the current study Collection numbers

Scientific name

Kayapó name

(303c) (304c) (305c) (306c) and (308c) (307c) (309c) (310c) (31lc) (312c) (313c)

Tetragona clavipes (Fabricius) Partamona cf. cupira Smith Melipona seminigra pernigra Moure & Kerr [Scaptotrigona nigrohirta Moure Ms.] Scaptotrigona polystica Moure Melipona melanoventer Schwarz Melipona rufiventris flavolineata Friese Tetragonisca angustula angustula (Latreille) Tetragona dorsalis cf. beebei Schwarz Trigona fulviventris Guérin

ikài-kà mytire, myre-ti, my-ti udjy imrê ñy kamrek imrê-ti menhirê ujdjà ngài kumrenx my krwàt tôtn my djô


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are called mrum-nhy, bees are called mehn-nhy, wasps are called amuh-nhy, and termites are called rorote-nhy. Apis mellifera (ngài-pere’y) is often classified with wasps (amuh-nhy) rather than stingless bees (mehn-nhy) because of its powerful sting. On the other hand, wasps that produce honey (Brachygaster spp.) are often classified with bees rather than wasps because of their honey production. Nests of social insects are given the same name as Kayapó houses, u˜ r˜ukwa. Likewise, traditional circular villages are said by the Kayapó to take the crosssectional form of conical nests of wasps and bees (see Chapter 9). Nests of Meliponinae (mehn nhy ˜u r˜u kwa) External characteristics Nests of Meliponinae are grouped by the Indians according to external structures perceived as ‘natural discontinuities’ or ‘natural’ morphological groupings (Hunn 1976). Although these groups are not linguistically labelled, their saliency as covert (unnamed) categories is easily demonstrated through field recognition and informant responses. Each nest-form group is typified by a ‘focal species’ that has idealized qualities characterizing the set. Each set may be identified or referred to by the name of the focal species (as described in Posey 1984d). Figure 11.1 illustrates the external form and internal structure of the focal species ku-krãi-ti (Trigona amazonensis). Similar drawings by various Indians were used to construct the basic focal forms of the major nest categories summarized in Figure 11.2. These focal forms are as follows: ●

A

●

B

●

C

●

D

●

E F

●

● ●

G H

●

I

●

J

Kukrãi-ti (Trigona amazonensis) constructs nests attached externally to large tree trunks or boulders Me-nô-rà-kamrek (Trigona cilipes) usually constructs nests in arboreal ant (Azteca spp.) colonies or termite (Nasutitermes sp.) nests Mehñy-tyk (Trigona branneri) prefers externally attached nests on various palm species Imrê-ñy-kamrek (Scaptotrigona nigrohirta) constructs nests in natural openings in tree trunks and builds entrance tubes of soft wax and resin (this is the largest category, encompassing a variety of genera and the species) Myti-re (Partamona cf. cupira) builds in arboreal termite nests Djô (Trigona fulviventris) prefers subterranean nests, often found in termite nests Puka-kam-mehn (Trigona recursa) a subterranean nest-building species Mykrwàt (Tetragonisca angustula) usually found in hollow trunks of dead trees lying on the ground Ngài kumrenx (Melipona rufiventris flavolineata) found in open tree hollows, with an entrance tube hidden inside Mehnô-djành (Frieseomelitta sp.) found in hollow vines or bamboo.

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Figure 11.2 Nests of Meliponinae focal species recognized by the Kayapó.

A limited number of species is found in any given habitat. Certain species are habitat specific, that is, found only in savanna, or flood forest, or high forest, and so forth. Thus when an Indian enters a specific habitat, he already knows which species might be found, thereby facilitating visual scanning for morphological nest types. Internal nest structure – architecture and entrance structure Terminology for structures of Meliponinae nests (˜ur˜ukwa) is quite complete. Two types of nests, based on internal structure, are recognized by the Kayapó: nests


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with horizontal, parallel combs (Figure 11.1); and nests with dispersed caches of combs (Figure 11.3). Figure 11.3 shows the principal architectural structures with associated Kayapó names. A glossary of Kayapó terms and their English or scientific equivalents is found on page 254. For the Indians, entrance structures (eijkwa) of meliponine nests are important diagnostic characters because each stingless bee species produces a specific structure. Shape, size, composition, colour, position and smell of the eijkwa are all characteristics used by the Indians for field identification. Figure 11.4 shows the major eijkwa focal categories. These are covert categories, but as with nest forms, they are frequently identified by referring to the name of the focal species that typifies the category.

Figure 11.3 Schematic structures of Melipona nests with Kayapó nomenclature: abu (batumen), me-ê-krê (honey pot), nhum-ê-krê (pollen pot), apynh-kra-djà (brood cell), kra kuni (brood comb), kupu-djà (involucrum), p˜i-ã-ari-a-djà (pillar), abu-krê-kryre (lower batumen with drainage channels), nhiênh-djà (pot opening), eijkwa (entrance structure), eijkwa-krê-krê (entrance gallery), kra-ku-pu-djà (cocoon), kuroro (shell of nest).

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Figure 11.4 Types of Meliponinae entrance tubes recognized by the Kayapó with their respective ‘focal species’: (A) imrê-ñy-kamrek (Scaptotrigona nigrohirta), (B) imrêti (S. polystica), (C) o˜ -i (Tetragona truncata), (D) ud`y (Melipona seminigra pernigra), (E) menire-ujdà (M. melanoventer), (F) ngài kumrenx (M. rufiventris flavolineata).

Ontogeny, life cycle, and castes of mehn-nhy (Meliponinae) The Kayapó believe that bees, like Indians, have a life cycle associated with the social space of their villages (kri-metx) and houses (˜ur˜ukwa). A bee’s life begins in ‘a growing up thing’ called apynh-kra-djà or ‘child sleeping place’ (kra-no-rodjà) (see Figure 11.5). Combs are called kra-`y-tr`y and are filled with various stages of life, including the egg (ngrê). According to the Indians, however, bees do not have ‘true eggs’ (ngrê-kumrenx) because they have no hard shell (kà).


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Figure 11.5 Ontogenetic stages of Meliponinae (represented in this figure by Melipona compressipes fasciculata, ngài-re) recognized by the Kayapó: apynh-kra-djà (brood cell); ngrê-kango (egg, egg liquid); kra-nu (larva of 1o instar); kra-ngri-re (larva of 2o instar); kra-rhyn (pre-defecant larva); kra-tum (post-defecant larva); kra-tytx (pre-pupa); kra-pôt (unpigmented pupa); kra-arup-ka-toro (pigmented pupa with movement; nhy-pô-nu (imago, emerging adult); nhy-jaká (newly emerged adult).

Instead, bee eggs are composed of a liquid deposited in the cell. This liquid is called ngrê-kango (egg liquid) and becomes ‘new (bee) children’, kra-nu, that in turn grow into ‘small children’, kra-ngri-re. Subsequent stages of larval development are denominated by the Indians as follows: kra-rhyn (‘round, thick children’ that occupy the whole cell – known scientifically as pre-defecating larvae); and kra-tum (‘old children’ that stand up vertically in the cell – known scientifically as post-defecating larvae). When the shells (kà) of the ‘children’ (kra) harden (aruptytx), the bee child is thought to be fully grown and is called kra-tytx (‘tough’, or, in this context, ‘grown children’ – scientifically known as pre-pupae). When the bee child takes on the appearance and size of an adult, it is called a kra-pôt (‘grown child’ that still cannot walk or move like an adult [kra-pôt-ket-rã-ã]). This is the primary pupa, just prior to eclosion. When the grown child begins to walk like an adult (kra-arup-ka-toro) after leaving its cell, the bee is known as

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nhy-pônu. Newly emerged adults are called nhy-jaká (unpigmented or ‘white’ bees) or nhy-rêrêk (‘weak bees’). As pigmentation begins to appear in the newly emerged adults, they are then called nhy-ngrire (‘small’ or ‘callow’ bees). According to informants, adult bees have different activities and functions in the nest and are given different names. These types, based upon behavioural differences, are: 1 2

3 4

5

6

7

Mehn akrê – ‘warrior bees’ that defend the nest (aggressive bee species have more warriors than non-aggressive species). Mehn-ôkabin-djwynh – ‘scout bees’ that search for food, water or mud, as well as for new nest locations should the colony need to move or divide; these also help guard the nest and alert the ‘warriors’ should there be any threat of danger. Mehn-ô-petx-djwynh – ‘worker bees’ that collect pollen (a-˜u), nectar (rãkangô), and resins (kunõ), as well as other materials necessary for the colony. Benadjwyrà-ratx – this is the ‘principal chief’, who lives in the centre of the comb. He is always larger than the rest and is said to eat differently than other bees (he eats pollen, nhum, and honey, rã-kangô, whereas other bees eat only honey). He is responsible for coordinating and ordering all of the activities of the colony. In times of danger, he always hides in the interior of the nest at a safe distance from the brood comb. (The benadjwyrà-ratx corresponds to the physogastric queen known to our science.) Benadjwyrà – these are the subchiefs whose duty it is to transmit the orders of the principal chief. Each of these (there may be several to many, depending on the size of the nest) is in charge of a group of bees made up of individuals from each of the categories (or ‘castes’). (These correspond to virgin queens in bee biology literature.) Benadjwyrà-pron – these are the wives of the chiefs and are in charge of the egg-laying and care of children. These bees remain close to the combs and have a slightly enlarged abdomen, thereby giving the impression that they are larger than other worker bees. (Scientifically these are known as nurse bees.) Benadjwyrâ-nhõ-kra – these are the young children of the chiefs. They receive special food and are always found in the periphery of the comb. (These are queen larvae and pupae.)

Food and feeding Pollen (a-˜u ) The Indians say that pollen (a-˜u) is collected from selected flowers (depending on bee species’ preferences) and carried to the nests (˜ur˜ukwa) where it is stored in special pots (nhum-ê). To obtain the a-˜u, bees rotate their back legs (mêtê) near the flower, sometimes having previously put resin (kunõ) on their legs to assist in securing the pollen grains to the body (tê’a-ma). The process of obtain-


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ing and carrying pollen to the hive is called mêtê kam ami tê o wai ri. When the a-˜u actually reaches the hive, it is mixed with drops of water from the bee’s mouth and stored in the nhum-ê; the pollen now receives another name, nhum, signifying its transformation by the water mixture. Nhum is the food for larvae (kra) in general; a special mixture with honey (mehn-kangô) is used to feed the chiefs and their children. Pollen of some species is eaten by the Kayapó (see Chapter 12). Honey (mehn-kangô) Mehn-kangô is formed from nectar of flowers (pidgo-rã-kangô, or ‘flower water’). It is carried by the bees in their mouths to be stored in special pots, mehnê-krê. The Indians say that honeys from different flowers have different tastes and consistencies and must be mixed by the bees to produce a uniform honey (mehnkangô-aben-kôt). Watery honey is said to be new honey, not yet properly mixed. When a proper mixture is completed, the honey is said to be ‘ready’ or ‘already good’ (arup-metx) and the openings to the honey pots (nhiênh-djà) are closed with cerumen (ãn-jê). Honey is the principal food of adult bees (mehn-nhy). Honeys of many species are valued as human food and as medicinals; some honeys are dangerous and can cause stomach ache and diarrhoea (see Chapter 12). Some bee species (for example, i-kài-kà, T. clavipes) are said to throw out their old honey at the end of the dry season to make room for the new honey of the wet season. This honey; or any honey that is considered old or acid (fermented), is called mehn-kangô-kaigo (‘honey that serves for nothing’).

Bee morphology Morphological structures of bees receive names that, for the most part, are analogous to parts of the human body. Some names, however, are used specifically for insect morphology. Figure 11.6 shows most of the major morphological structures named by the Kayapó. Names were given in the field when Kayapó collaborators were shown live specimens.

Family groupings and specific determinations The superordinate (suprageneric) grouping of social insects (nhy) and various covert (unnamed) categories with focal species based on idealized nest and entrance structure morphology have already been discussed. Data are incomplete to outline fully the Kayapó notion of relatedness between folk species of bees. However, several groupings made by the Indians (ombiqua) can be elaborated – for example, imrê (corresponding to the genus Scaptotrigona), kangàrà (corresponding to the genus Oxytrigona), and ngài (various genera related in a system as yet undescribed). Family groupings and specific determinations are based on the following characteristics.

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Figure 11.6 Major morphological structures recognized and named by the Kayapó: araabatyx (fore-wing), ara-ngrire (small, hind wing), ara’i (veins), ara-kratx (wing joint), krã (head), no-kà-i (simple eyes, ocelli), no (compound eye), h˜i-ja-krê-ô (antenna), kaingàrà (segments of antenna), inhot (end point – distal), kukõ (base of antenna), kratx (joint), wai-krã (labrum), wa (mandible), wa-nhot (teeth of mandible), o˜ -to-pra (proboscis), o˜ -to (tongue), mut (prothorax), ibum (thorax/mesotherax), pa (front legs), tê (back legs), h˜i (abdomen), te’`y (point of abdomen).

1

2

Ethological characteristics (i) Flight patterns (how the bees fly when entering the nest); (ii) degree of aggressive behaviour when the nest is disturbed (aggressive to docile); (iii) sound produced by bees in flight or by nocturnal behaviour inside nest; (iv) places bees visit, including types of flowers, dead animals, faeces, sand banks, mud and other sites. Nest structure and habitat niche (i) Substrate preferred (for example tree hollows, ant nests, termite mounds, inside earth, large trees; in the case of tree nests, nest form and position of the entrance structure is also important); (ii) preferred habitat (flood forest,


3

4

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humid forest, savanna); (iii) form, texture, colour, and size of the entrance structure; (iv) material utilized to construct the entrance structure (for example mud, resin, cerumen, vegetable fibbers, excrement); and (v) form and texture of the batumen (nest cavity boundaries or covering). Morphological and biochemical characters (i) Shape of the bee’s body; (ii) colours of the bee; (iii) designs or markings on body; (iv) size and colour of wings; (v) size of the bee; (vi) smell of the bee (either its naturally occurring smell or when the bee is crushed); (vii) secretions produced for defence. Economic factors (i) Quality of honey; (ii) quantity of honey; (iii) quality of resins; (iv) quality of wax and cerumen; (v) suitability of pollen for food; (vi) suitability of larvae/pupae for food.

Oxytrigona (kangàrà) are grouped into one family because of a liquid produced from glands in the mandibles for the purpose of protection. This liquid blisters and burns the human skin after a period of about 24 hours, unless introduced subcutaneously, when blisters appear immediately. Texture and form of the nest entrance is also a unifying characteristic of this group, which makes long slender slits lightly lined with cerumen, as in nest entrances. It is interesting to note, however, that Partamona vicina is named kangàrà-kàk-ti (the ‘big false kangàrà’) because it is similar in size and colour to other kangàrà. It is also a very aggressive species, although it exudes no defence liquid. At the superordinate level, Melipona may only be grouped in covert categories, because no named groupings seem to unite the genus despite similarity in morphology. Apis mellifera is sometimes grouped with Melipona because of its size and colour, although it is also frequently grouped with wasps (amuh) because of its sting. Other ‘functional’ groupings include aggressiveness, as well as honey or cerumen types. Arboreal nesting Trigona are always grouped together as ku-krãi (for example, ku-krãi-re, T. dallatorreana, and ku-krãi-ti, T. amazonensis). Scaptotrigona (imrê) are grouped into the same family on the basis of similarity in honey, cerumen, and, principally, by their similar smells. Summary of species collected The species described below were collected in Gorotire in 1983. They are presented with a summary of important diagnostic characteristics utilized by the Kayapó. (Note: these are some of the species most commonly mentioned by the Indians; other species can be found in Posey 1983a:156). Order of characteristics is: (a) flight pattern when entering nest; (b) preferred habitat; (c) nest site; (d) smell of the bee; (e) form, texture, smell and material utilized for entrance structure; (f) size and colour of body and wings; (g) defence behaviour.

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Tetragona clavipes (i-kài-kà, ‘blade of knife’) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

Smooth, circular flight before entering nest forest where light penetrates (bà-kamrek/bà-ràràra) tree hollows (usually high up) characteristic smell large entrance tube of cerumen yellow body, large wings, lightly coloured not aggressive (do not attack or bite); deposit resins.

Observations: throws out old honey at the end of the dry season to prepare for new, wet season honey. Partamona cf. cupira (myti-re, ‘big penis’) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

Rapid flight, direct entrance/exit pattern savanna and forest termite nests (rorote, Nasutitermes) smell not distinctive earth and resins black body, white wings very aggressive (bites and attacks).

Observations: quantity of honey small, but very important for medicine. Melipona seminigra pernigra (udjy, ‘witchcraft’) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

No information (not discussed by the Indians) high forest (bà-tyk) hollows of big trees no information entrance tube long, made of mud and resins big bee with black thorax (ibum-tyk) not aggressive.

Observations: this is a ‘semi-domesticated’ species that returns to the nest when a portion of the brood comb with honey and pollen pots are left in the old hive; this bee is also kept near the house simply to observe as a curiosity; honey is good year-round; bees are used in witchcraft. Trigona amazonensis (ku-krãi-ti, ‘like a mountain ridge’) a) b) c) d)

No information high forest and mountains (krãi) attached externally to tall trees and large rocks no information


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e) large lower structure made of same material as nest cover f) large black body, clear wings g) very aggressive (attacks and bites). Observations: honey of large quantity and good taste, taken mostly in the dry season; bees are crushed and mixed with urucu (py) to paint dogs so they will be aggressive and have no fear of hunting (akrê). Fire, smoke and kangàrà-kanê (see following section) used to extract honey and wax. Honey pots are placed over banana leaves and mashed to release honey. Larvae and pupae are crushed and rubbed on hunting dogs to make them strong (tytx). Scaptotrigona nigrohirta (imrê-nhy-kamrek, ‘red imrê’ – a Kayapó proper name) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

No information várzea forest (imô) and light-penetrating forest hollows of medium to large trees distinctive smell tube of yellow cerumen when new; turns dark when old yellow body, white wings very aggressive (attacks and bites); attacks other bees by biting their wings.

Observations: honey good all year; combs with larvae are utilized for food and said to taste like ‘cookies’; pollen also eaten, but only if yellow, which indicates it is sweet; it is believed that this bee has more than one principal chief (benadjwyrà-ratx); cerumen is used to make the ceremonial hat, m˜e-kutôm. Method of bee’s aggressiveness, attacking others by breaking their wings, may be related to Kayapó idea of aben ta`k (traditional ceremonial sword fight aimed at breaking long bones of arm); only descendants of chiefs said to receive the proper name of imrê. Scaptotrigona polystica (imrê-ti, ‘big imrê’ – a family of bees and Kayapó ceremonial name) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

No information várzea forest (imô) hollows of medium to large trees characteristic smell long, tough black entrance tube, pointed downward next to the trunk black body, clear wings not aggressive (wajabóre)

Observations: large amounts of honey taken in dry season; lesser amounts of honey taken in wet season; cerumen used to attach feathers and coat cotton thread, as well as to make mê-kutôm; for other qualities, see imrê-nhy-kamrek.

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Melipona melanoventer (menire-udjà, ‘vagina’) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

No information várzea forest (imô) hollows of medium to large trees no information shaped like a vagina; made of earth and clay; opening for one bee only thorax (ibum) yellow not aggressive.

Observations: produce a very distinctive noise at night that helps to locate and identify the bee; both honey and pollen are eaten; one of the ‘semi-domesticated’ species. Melipona rufiventris flavolineata (ngài-kumrenx, ‘true ngài,’ a family of bees) a) Direct flight when entering b) light-penetrating forest (bà-ràràra/bà-kamrek) c) tree hollows close to the ground (always less than one metre), frequently in dead tree trunks d) strong smell; easily detectable when colony is swarming (abem-o-watõ); odour trail of swarm followed by Indians to locate new bee colony e) mud (ng`y) and bark fibbers (piã-õm); hidden inside tree hollow f) yellow body g) not aggressive. Observations: honey very sweet and taken all year; ‘semi-domesticated’ in village and old gardens (puru-tum, ibe-tum); distinctive sound at night used to locate hive; bees followed from sides of rivers and igarapés when collecting water, mud, and other materials. Tetragona dorsalis (tôtn m`y re, ‘penis of armadillo’) a) b) c) d) e)

Circular, smooth flight before backing off to enter in a direct flight high forest (bà-tyk) hollows of trees distinct smell from resins carried by bees small entrance tube of resin; strong smell from resin; shaped like penis of armadillo f) yellow body, white wings g) not aggressive. Observations: honey good all year; bees produce distinct noise when swarming; odour trails of swarm followed by Indians to locate new nest; when new nest is located, Indians wait five to ten years before opening to take honey; division of


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nest by bees occurs only in wet season; smoke from strong-smelling resins (collected by bees) used to purify houses and body to expel spirits and sickness; resins burned as incense; cerumen and batumen also burned and smoke inhaled to cure ‘dizziness’ or ‘craziness’ (eijbam). Nest located in forest by listening for call of a bird (tô-wa-pêtê, Hypocnemis cf. candator) known to prey upon adult bees near nests. Tetragonisca angustula angustula (my-krwàt, ‘ridged long penis’) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

Slow flight, circles, then retreats before entering in direct flight pattern widespread, prefers light-penetrating forest hollows of dead trees lying on ground no information thin tube of yellow cerumen small, yellow not aggressive (wajabore).

Observations: honey highly appreciated and taken all year; larvae and pollen eaten; sound of colony at night not loud, but distinctive; bees caught in rain hide under leaves for protection; if they cannot return to hive at night they die; worker bees fly in straight lines from resources to nest and can be followed to find nest; ‘semi-domesticated’ near houses and old gardens; resin used to attach arrow points. Trigona fulviventris (djô, significance of name unknown) a) b) c) d) e) f) g)

No information margin of forest (bà-kot) and savanna (kapôt) subterranean, often in termite nests (rorote) no information black tube with pieces of bark fibre black not aggressive.

Observations: honey taken all year, but of small amount; wax used for artefacts and to produce medicinal smoke. Collection, exploitation and social significance of Meliponinae Honey, cerumen and other products associated with Meliponinae are important economic elements in Kayapó society (Posey 1983f, Chapter 12 this volume). One of the principal reasons men give for going to hunt is to procure honey. Bee specialists in Gorotire are all shamans (wayanga), which is not surprising because it was the ancient shamans who conceived the ‘natural model’ for Kayapó social organization based upon social Hymenoptera studies (Posey 1981a,

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1983d). One of the shamans’ secrets of finding bees is to walk at night listening for the distinctive sounds of colonies ventilating their nests. Most Indians are afraid to leave the village at night for fear of spirits (karõn); shamans, however, do not fear karõn. They mentally mark, spatially and temporally, the nests heard at night, then return in the day to observe the colonies. Of the colonies described in this chapter (see preceding section), seven were located during night hunting trips. Indians also locate nests by observing flight patterns of bees returning from collection visits at river and stream margins. Indians have been observed (by Posey) running quickly behind a bee to locate its colony. Trails of odour (mehnnhy-pry) of bee swarms are followed as though they were trails of game, such as wild pig or tapir. Bees are believed always to fly upwind toward their nest when leaving a food or water source. An Indian may observe for hours the flight patterns and activities of bees near flowers or margins of water. Presence of a bee’s nest, once found by a Kayapó individual, is generally announced in some public place (the Men’s House, ngà, or river landing, ngô kà) so as to advise others of its discovery and intent by the finder to exploit the colony at some future time. This is done by describing the nest’s habitat and geographical location, as well as identifying the bee itself. The finder then has usufruct rights to the colony. If another person raids the claimed colony, misunderstanding and anger can result. Tirades against poachers are sometimes heard in the Men’s House. Usufruct claims are strongest when bee colonies are located in the old gardens (puru-tum and ibe-tum) of the finder. A variety of technologies is used to exploit colonies, depending on the nest site, habitat and aggressiveness of the species. Nests of non-aggressive species (wajabore) are simply opened with axes when the tree is not too large nor the nest too high. With large trees, or extremely high nests, the Indians build a special platform with ladders to get to the colony. This platform can be quite elaborate, with several stages, all carefully constructed from poles tied together with vines. In large trees or trees of very hard wood, holes are opened only large enough to insert the hand and arm to pull out the brood and honey pots. Nests high in trees of less than one metre circumference are taken by cutting down the tree. The opening in the forest produced by the fallen tree (bà-krêti) is later utilized for planting medicinal and food plants (see Posey 1983c, 1983e, 1984a). These forest openings also attract game and birds for hunting. Thus exploitation of bees figures prominently in the overall system of forest management practised by the Kayapó and leads to the diversification of floral and faunal species that occur in the forest (Posey l984a). Aggressive bees (akrê), such as Trigona amazonensis, Oxytrigona tataira and Apis mellifera, are taken with fire and smoke. Dry leaves of palms and wild banana are attached to long limbs and are set on fire. The burning, smoking mass is held near the entrance of the nest to expel the bees. Sometimes trees are then felled and fires built near the opening of the nest. Another effective method of expelling aggressive bees is to put the shaving of a highly toxic vine called kangàrà-kanê (Tanaecium nocturnum) into the nest


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opening (Kerr and Posey 1985). In a short time (one to four minutes) the volatile components of the vine stun or kill enough bees so that the nest can be safely opened. Leaves of the same plant are chewed, and the saliva–plant mixture is passed over the body to prevent stings or bites from the bees. The Indians say that the use of kangàrà-kanê is only to stun the bees, not to kill the colony; thus it is left in the colony for only a short time. We had the opportunity to observe the use of kangàrà-kanê by Kwyrà-kà with Melipona rufiventris flavolineata. After a small ball (10 centimetres diameter) of the shaving was put into the opened nest, bees began to die in only one and a half minutes. Within four minutes the entire colony was dispersed or dead. Nests of some species, including M. seminigra pernigra, M. melanoventer, M. rufiventris flavolineata, Scaptotrigona nigrohirta and S. polystica, are exploited year after year in the fields and forests. This is possible because after opening the colonies and taking a portion of its contents, parts of the brood comb, honey, pollen and cerumen are returned to the nest. The Kayapó say this is to keep Bepkôrôrôti happy. Bepkôrôrôti is the spirit of an ancient shaman who becomes angry if food is not shared (he has a particular penchant for honey) and will send lightning and thunder to destroy those who are greedy (see Chapter 12). Thus, Bepkôrôrôti not only functions to encourage sharing in the tribe, but he also becomes the protector of bees and ensures the preservation of bee colonies. Nests of other species, for example Tetragonisca angustula, Trigona dallatorreana and T. cilipes, are taken to the village in their natural substrates or put into special baskets called kangri that are made of banana and wild banana leaves. We observed one colony of T. angustula being carried to the house of Kwyrà-kà in a kangri to be ‘kept’ (õ-krit) in a cool, dark place in his house in Gorotire. ‘Semi-domesticated’ bees are considered õ-krit species and are listed in Table 11.2. General observations and notes The Indians recognize many ecological relationships between bees and other ecosystem components. Plants that produce flowers that attract bees are left to grow, or are even planted, in gardens and alongside forest trails. The Kayapó say that when there are many bees, there are abundant crops. The relationship between bees and crop production, as well as the folk concept of pollination, is yet to be studied in detail. Relationships of bees with other animals are also recognized. For example, T. chanchamayonensis is known to frequently nest with an ant called mrum-gogo (still unidentified); Trigona cilipes likes to nest with another ant called mrumkudjà (Azteca sp.). Certain bees are also frequently found cohabiting in the same tree or nest site, including Scaptotrigona polystica, T. clavipes, S. nigrohirta, S. favisetis and T. truncata. Other bee species are always found alone, such as M. compressipes fasciculata, M. rufiventris flavolineata, T. angustula, M. seminigra

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Table 11.2 Bee species semi-domesticated by the Kayapó Indians Kayapó name

Scientific name

imrê-ti imrê-ñy-kamrek ku-krãi-re mehnô-rã-kamrek mehnô-rã-tyk menhire-ujdà *my-krwàt ngài-kumrenx ngài-pêrê’`y ngài re *udjy

Scaptotrigona polystica (Moure) Scaptotrigona nigrohirta Moure Ms. Trigona dallatorreana (Friese) Trigona cilipes pellucida (Ckll.) Scaura longula (Lep.) Melipona melanoventer Schwarz Tetragonisca angustula angustula Latreille Melipona rufiventris flavolineata Friese Apis mellifera Linn. Melipona compressipes cf. fasciculata (Smith) Melipona seminigra pernigra Moure and Kerr

*These names represent revisions (corrections) in names used in previous publications (that is, Posey 1983f,Table 3; and Posey 1983b,Table 2).

pernigra and M. melanoventer. Two wasps are known to be predators of bees; these are amuh-kamrô-tyk and kukryt-anhoroti (identifications not yet made). Certain bees of the imrê family (Lestromelitta limão Prov.) are known by the Indians to rob honey, pollen and other nest materials from other colonies. Some species of Scaptotrigona are likewise known to pillage nests of other bees. A bumblebee, kungont (Bombus transversalis), is famous as a robber of pollen (Weaver 1978). The mammal called krok-krok-ti (irará, Eira barbara) is despised because it destroys the nests of the semi-domesticated species when searching for its favourite food, honey. The small bird tõ-wa-pêtê (Hypocmenis cf. cantator) helps the Indians locate bee hives because it sings when successful in its attack on adult bees. Another interesting phenomenon observed by the Indians is the coexistence of commensal acarines inside the bee colonies. These acarines are called nhure and are believed to be the property of the bees – each bee has its own nhure that it raises (õ-krit) just as Indians raise dogs. The nhure are said to eat the trash left by the bees (mehnõ-ja’um) just as village dogs clean up after the Indians. In relation to the Africanized honey bee (Apis mellifera, generally known as the ‘Brazilian bee’), the Kayapó are keenly aware of its presence and effect in the region. They say that this bee (ngài-pere’y) arrived during the full moon in February 1966. The Indians report that this bee began to attack and pillage ( `y rwai-djà) the nests of Meliponinae. Likewise, the ngài-pere’y are so aggressive as to attack other bees at flowers, particularly the flowers of inajâ (Maximiliana regia), as well as at water sources near the margins of rivers and streams. Bees that are particularly vulnerable to Apis mellifera are imrê-ti (S. polystica), imrênhy-kamrek (S. nigrohirta), udjy (M. seminigra pernigra), tôtn-my (Tetragona dorsalis), my-krwàt (Tetragonisca angustula), among others. Currently the aggressiveness of the ngài-pere’y is said to have diminished, thereby allowing the


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native bees to gather pollen and nectar peacefully and therefore to produce more honey. The Kayapó do not like the Apis honey as well as that of the Meliponinae. Apis honey is usually traded or sold, whereas meliponine honey is kept for local consumption.

Discussion The purpose of this study is not to compare indigenous knowledge of Meliponinae with that of Western science, but to report indigenous knowledge to aid our search for new ideas about stingless bees and bee behaviour. To this end, we feel our work, although only in its beginning phases in relationship to the complexity and sophistication of Kayapó knowledge, has helped to define some important and interesting areas for further biological research. Characteristics used in Kayapó meliponine taxonomy are indeed similar to that of Western science, although the reliance upon chemical qualities (odours) of species needs to be further investigated. Likewise, bee behavioural groups recognized by the Indians (mehn-akrê, mehn-ôkabin-djwynh, mehn-ô-petx-djwynh) could represent actual divisions of labour in addition to those currently accounted for by age variations (see Kerr and Neto 1953; Hebling et al. 1964; Bassindale 1955; Sakagami 1982; Wille 1983). Research to date documents communication by odour trails only for Trigona, whereas in Melipona sound is thought to be the principal means of communication (Lindauer and Kerr 1960; Lindauer 1967; Esch et al. 1965; Kerr and Fales 1981; Kerr 1960; Kerr et al. 1963). The Kayapó, however, insist that other bees have trails of odour as well, including M. rufiventris flavolineata, which has an especially distinctive odour during swarming. Is there a chemical component in communication and orientation of Melipona? Acarine mites that live with Meliponinae are little studied until now (Flechtmann and Camargo 1974; Rosa and Flechtmann 1983; Delfinado-Baker et al. 1983) and are considered commensal. The Indians, however, believe the species to be symbiotic. Can Indian knowledge give insights into this little-known subject? Ecological zones and microzones preferred by specific species of Meliponinae is one of the specialities of the Kayapó, but these have not been systematically studied. However, factors affecting the tendency of certain species to share or not share habitats, as observed by the Indians, is of significance to ecological research (Roubik 1979a, l979b, 1983). Impact of the invasion of the Africanized Apis mellifera into new ecological zones is also little known (Roubik 1979b, 1980, 1981, 1983), yet it has been carefully observed by the Kayapó and deserves further study. Another important subject that must be considered in future research is to what extent the Kayapó knowledge of biology is reflected in their social and cultural systems. Are their beliefs about social bee behaviour (including social division of

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labour, moving of colonies, aggressiveness and attacks, pillaging, defence, differential food distribution and other behaviour) really only anthropomorphic explications of observed biological phenomena? Or, as the Kayapó insist, were these social and cultural patterns really intentionally developed based upon ideas and knowledge by an ancient shaman of social insect behaviour? Was Kayapó society created upon an intentional ‘natural model’ or is it simply explained by a ‘natural reality?’ These are questions rarely raised by anthropologists or biologists, but should no longer be avoided.

Concluding remarks This and other published works on Kayapó knowledge of meliponines represent still only superficial treatment of a much larger and more complex body of indigenous information about stingless bees. Further investigation of this knowledge will have to proceed with care and perseverance to ‘discover’ the more intricate aspects of Kayapó folk science. Frequently the most interesting and revealing cognitive structures and their logical constructions lie submerged in the non-verbal realm of indigenous thought. The noted bee expert of the GorotireKayapó, Kwyrà-kà, for example, was able to separate for us quickly and accurately numerous closely related Trigona species, but was unable to verbalize the reasons for such decisions. This is because his knowledge of nature comes from silently observing, rather than verbally analysing. Observations are registered in a gestalt manner along with a myriad of information regarding niche, habitat, ecological zone, geographic coordinates and associated elements of the same ecosystem. Nonliterate societies depend upon symbols transmitted orally for the dissemination of knowledge. Myth, therefore, functions as a compact vehicle for the transmission of ecological concepts (Posey 1983e). To understand myth and what it really communicates to the people who understand its symbols, the scientist must understand the symbolic language that generates and interprets the secrets of oral tradition. Until this is done, the ethnobiologist can never evaluate the validity of indigenous ideas about nature. Judgements of ideas as being ‘absurd’, ‘impossible’, ‘mere superstition’ or just ‘quaint, with no true scientific value’, must be purged from the self-proclaimed superiority of ethnocentric western science. In the true spirit of scientific inquiry, however, hypotheses can be generated, stimulated by indigenous ideas, and subsequently tested with proper scientific rigour. In this manner, ethnobiological research offers an unequalled philosophy and methodology for the enrichment and advancement of a world science. One of the most valuable results of the investigation of Kayapó knowledge of meliponines is the understanding of how stingless bees are seen by the Indians as an integral part of a complex natural system. Clearings produced by trees felled to take honey, for example, serve as garden openings where medicinal and edible plants are planted and transplanted. Fruit trees and leafy vegetation also provide


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food for wildlife, with some species actually planted by the Indians to attract desirable game animals (Posey 1985b). Thus management of bees is part of an overall strategy for the conservation and exploitation of secondary forest. It is precisely this type of integrated knowledge, based upon intricacies of indigenous science, that offers many new ideas for those persons and institutions interested in long-term, ecologically and socially sound plans for development and conservation in the humid tropics (Parker et al. 1983; Posey, Frechione et al. 1984). Thus specific studies such as this one on Kayapó knowledge of meliponines represent only initial stages of a truly comprehensive model of ethnobiological research. It is our hope that these notes will help to stimulate other ethnobiological studies that will, in turn, expedite the creation of the larger model, founded upon respect for other scientific systems and the urgency of their systematic study.

Chapter 12

Keeping of stingless bees by the Kayapó Indians of Brazil 1

Introduction Previously I have pointed out the widespread use of insects by indigenous peoples in the lowland tropics of the New World (Posey 1978, 1979e, 1980). Inevitably stingless bees (Meliponinae) are one of the most valued insect resources. Beekeeping for the Maya of Mesoamerica, for example, was an elaborate science (Schwartz 1948). For the Kayapó Indians of the middle Xingu region of Brazil, bee-keeping is not as complicated as that of the Maya; however, knowledge and utilization of stingless bees is well developed. As an anthropologist with entomological training, I was initially attracted to the role of bees in the Kayapó culture by the elaborate semantic domain of social insects and by the extensive mythological corpus collected about social insects (Posey 1981a). Social communities of Hymenoptera are thought to mirror Kayapó communities; indeed, it is believed that Indians learned how to live as social beings from an ancestral wise man (wayanga), who gained his knowledge from the study of bee, wasp and ant behaviour (Posey 1979c, 1979e). This belief serves as a social charter to the Kayapó to continue their observations of nature in general and of Hymenoptera in particular, and accounts for their reputation as keen ethologists (Posey 1981a, 1981d).

The social and ecological context The Kayapó recognize three major ecological zones (see Table 8.1, page 61), and native consultants (informants) were able to group stingless bees under these ecological zones with consistency, reflecting the various habitats frequented by the specific folk species of bees. A morphological taxonomic system also exists (Chapters 9, 10, 11 this book), but the ability of the Indians to identify most bees out of their habitats is unreliable. A few species are widely known by men and women and can even be identified away from their nests (e.g. Apis mellifera, Melipona rufiventris flavolineata, and Trigona dallatorreana). These are recognized by general morphological features such as body colour, markings and relative size. Out of a village population of approximately 600, I found only two bee ‘experts’ who are

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reasonably consistent in identifying folk species from morphological characteristics alone. Both bee specialists were males. Women know little about bees since the collection of honey and wax rests within the male social domain. During the dry season, groups of men often go off for days to procure honey. Honey is constantly sought on hunting trips and is highly prized. Meat and gathered foods are generally brought to the village and given to the wife or wife’s mother (the eldest female of the household). She then distributes the meat or produce as she pleases among relatives. This is not the case with honey: a man is free to distribute honey as he pleases. Rarely does any honey ever reach the village, however, for it is usually drunk at the collection site. The Indians make honey containers on the spot from multiple layers of banana leaves. The leaves are folded upward to form a collection vessel. When no honey remains in the vessel, the leaves are licked to glean the last drops that may have escaped through the leaf cracks. The Kayapó masticate the thick bases of stalks of wild ginger until an absorbent brush-like object is produced. This is dipped into the honey and pulled through the mouth. This is an efficient way for several people to consume honey at the same time. Some Kayapó dispense with any proprieties and drink the honey like water. I have no data on how much honey is consumed by the average Kayapó in a year, however I have seen a single Indian boy drink a half-litre of honey in one sitting. The Kayapó men like to drink honey until they feel light-headed (Posey 1981d). Often sections of the nest combs that are filled with larvae, pupae or pollen are also eaten. These have a very light, wafer-like texture and taste and are excellent when eaten with the honey, and are as highly prized as the honey itself (see Table 8.7, page 75). When honey is removed from the hive, a portion of the brood comb and honey is always left behind for Bepkôrôrôti, a powerful shaman who was taken into the sky in a flash of lightning. Functionally this secures the perpetuation of certain species that will return to re-colonize. He resides in the clouds, or rather is the clouds, and sends lightning, thunder and rain. Anyone who does not share with Bepkôrôrôti and his fellow Kayapó risks being struck by lightning. Honey, wax and bees are associated with the heavens and rains because of Bepkôrôrôti’s penchant for honey. Beeswax is burned to produce a smoke that is believed to attract storm clouds and rains. The smoke is also believed to repel evil spirits, purge houses from lingering ancestral spirits, and protect children from witchcraft. Beeswax is also used for many Kayapó artefacts. In most cases I was unable to ascertain if the beeswax had special ceremonial importance in artefact production, or if it served purely functional purposes. Feathers and bow points are cemented into arrows with beeswax. Wax is also used to strengthen and lubricate bow strings. Black wax is used to darken cotton string that is used in making various wooden and bone artefacts (Posey 1979e). The most impressive article made from beeswax is the me˜-kutôm, a hat worn by young men about to receive ceremonial names. The beeswax for these hats is

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inherited and stored as a ball in a hole in the earthen floor of the family’s house. At the time of a name-giving ceremony, the wax ball is exhumed and formed into the me˜-kutôm by a male relative of the boy. The form of the me˜-kutôm is highly symbolic (Figure 12.1). The front point of the me˜-kutôm is called the ‘morning sky pole’ (kàikwa kratx); the rounded back is the ‘evening sky pole’ (kàikwa-not). These poles represent the beginning and ending points of the sun’s path across the sky. The two ‘legs’ (pa) are equivalent to north and south cardinal directions. There are painted patches on the pa that represent the idealized geographical relationships between village and fields. The village is the nhi-pôk, or centre circle. The circle also represents the sun. The smaller circle inside the nhi-pôk represents the moon superimposed over the sun. The painted paths from the sky poles indicate the paths of the sun and moon through the sky (kàikwa) and over the earth (pyka). From a side view (Figure 12.2), the me˜-kutôm represents another plane and the relationship between sky and earth. The wax hat itself is seen as a floating, somewhat concave, disc with small ‘feet’ (pa). The circle ( nhi-pôk) as seen from above is really an elevated hump into which is inserted a thin stick. Onto the stick is woven an arch of bamboo and cotton. Macaw feathers are inserted into the bamboo to produce a radiating arc of red and blue feathers. This represents the sky (kàikwa). The Kayapó believe they once lived above the sky and lowered themselves to the earth by means of a woven cotton rope that was dropped through an armadillo hole. The stick represents the cotton string that once brought the Kayapó from the upper world to the earth (Posey l98lb). It is said that the wax used for the me˜-kutôm is the same as that brought by the ancient Kayapó from the sky. It is a direct and highly valued link with the very origins of Kayapó culture. It is the one material continuity the Kayapó of today have with their most ancient ancestors.

Beekeeping The Kayapó recognize six species whose nests can be raided and, if the queen and part of the brood chamber are returned to the nest, the bees will return to re-estab-

Figure 12.1 An overview of the m˜e-kutôm, showing major symbolic components.

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Figure 12.2 A lateral view of the m˜e-kutôm, showing the symbolic relationships between earth (pyka) and sky (kaìkwa).

lish the colony. Thus there are trees known by, and in a sense owned by, certain Kayapó men that are consistently raided year after year. The Kayapó also ‘keep’ several species in or nearby their houses. For example, when nests of certain species of Trigona (T. dallatorreana and one unidentified species) are found in the forest, they are brought back still attached to their limbs and the complete nests erected from an eave of the house. Yet other species (Trigona amalthea and Melipona rufiventris flavolineata) are brought with the nest intact in a hollow log and placed at the margin of the forest near the village or field clearing. Other species (Trigona cilipes and Scaura longula) tend to prefer building sites in exposed rafters of houses and are allowed to coexist with the household residents. The nests of all of these ‘kept’ species are raided at prescribed times when the honey cache is known to be optimal. The Kayapó also encourage the establishment of bee nests in their fields. To do this, they sometimes dig large holes or utilize existing armadillo holes. Into these holes they place logs, which attract several Trigona species (including T. fuscipennis Friese). T. fulviventris guinae Ckll. nests directly in the earthen walls of the hole. The presence of bees is associated by the Kayapó with crop success, although there is no clear notion of pollination per se. I do not know about the actual role of pollination by these species. In my collection of bees from Gorotire, 56 folk species were discerned. J. M. F. Camargo, Universidade de São Paulo, Riberao Preto, kindly inspected and identified the Gorotire collection.2 He found 66 scientifically recognized species of which 11 were unknown or as yet not described (one species of Frieseomelitta;

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two of Partamona; one of Tetragona; two of Centris; three of Megachile; one of Mesoplia; and one of Tetrapedia). In a normative comparison between folk and scientific species, therefore, we find that there is approximately an 86 per cent correlation. Such high correlative quotients are not uncommon (Berlin 1973; Hunn 1975).

Chapter 13

Ethnopharmacological search for antiviral compounds: treatment of gastrointestinal disorders by Kayapó medical specialists 1

Known antiviral compounds still present significant drawbacks, such as a narrow spectrum of activity, limited therapeutic usefulness and variable degrees of toxicity (Van den Berghe et al. 1978). On the other hand, the prevalence of virally related diseases is of growing concern; therefore, the development of new and better antiviral compounds is desirable. It has been shown that viruses respond differently to plant extracts, and suggested that natural products are preferable to synthetic compounds as sources of new antiviral agents (Van den Berghe et al. 1978; Vlietinck and Van den Berghe 1991). The study of flora in general, and medicinal plants in particular, has been considered a fruitful approach in the search for new drugs (Svendsen and Scheffer 1982; Samuelson 1989; Farnsworth 1990). Plant collections for drug discovery can follow different approaches, including the random collection of plants, collections guided by chemotaxonomy, and collections based on ethnopharmacological data. Because medical systems as products of particular cultures are enormously varied in terms of health practices and beliefs, detailed ethnography is needed to select plants that may be sources of cross-culturally effective drugs. It is through the correlation of traditional therapeutic practices with Western biomedical concepts that species can be selected and scrutinized for particular pharmacological activities (Elisabetsky and Setzer 1985). Selection of species that are claimed by humans to have a given clinical activity may constitute a valuable short-cut for drug discovery. Ethnopharmacologically based strategies have been applied to several therapeutic areas, such as cancer (Duke 1986; Cordell et al. 1991), immunomodulators (Labadie, Van der Nat et al. 1989), allergy (Elisabetsky and Gély 1987; Wagner 1989), contraceptives (Xiao and Wang 1991), analgesics (Elisabetsky and Castilhos 1990), antimalarial agents (Phillipson and Wright 1991; Brandão et al. 1992), antidiarrhoeal/antimicrobial compounds (Caceres et al. 1990; Heinrich et al. 1992a, 1992b) and antiviral agents (Vlietinck and Van den Berghe 1991). Gastrointestinal disorders are frequently associated with viral diseases: rotavirus is responsible for at least 50 per cent of infections that lead to acute diarrhoea (Krej 1988). We offer in this chapter an analysis of Kayapó treatment of gastrointestinal disorders, which might be useful for the selection of plant species as potential sources of antiviral compounds.

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Intellectual, cultural and scientific property The authors of this chapter embrace the principles of the Covenant on Intellectual, Cultural and Scientific Property developed by the Global Coalition for Biological and Cultural Diversity (for the full text of the Covenant, see Posey and Dutfield 1996: 175–8. See also Elisabetsky and Posey 1993: 227). The data were obtained with full consent of the Kayapó people. The chapter is published in the spirit of joint partnership with the Kayapó to advance knowledge for the benefit of all humanity. Any information used from it for commercial or other ends should be properly cited and acknowledged: any commercial benefits that should accrue directly or indirectly should be shared with the Kayapó people.

Methodology Research for this chapter was carried out in Gorotire where D. A. Posey has conducted ethnobiological research since 1977. This chapter is based on a collaborative effort with E. Elisabetsky, who made two trips to the village (one month each) in November 1983 and April 1984. Plant collections during these trips were made by Dr Anthony Anderson; these are currently deposited in the Herbarium of the Museu Paraense Emílio Goeldi, Belém, Pará, Brazil. Additional visits to the village by E. Elisabetsky in 1985 and 1986 provided complementary data and concepts. Our principal informants were Kwyrà-kà, Beptopoop (two shamans or wayanga) and José Uté and Tereza (noted medicinal plant knowers or m˜ekute pidjà mari). Basic ethnobotanical information was collected by E. Elisabetsky and D.A. Posey in the field, with subsequent ethnopharmacological interviews in the project house. Additional sessions were held to discuss the more general concepts of Kayapó diseases, their symptoms and cures. Both concepts and plants were discussed with these four key informants, as well as with members of the village in general. Between 1987 and 1989 contacts with Kayapó Indians, both in Belém and at the FUNAI Hospital in Icoaraci, were frequent. Time spent with Paiakan and his family, at that time living in Belém, was used for clarifying concepts on Kayapó life in general and their medical system and practices in particular.

Kayapó medical system It is beyond the purpose of this chapter to describe fully the intricate medical system and practices of the Kayapó (Bamberger 1967; Elisabetsky and Posey 1988, 1991). Points relevant to understanding medical uses of species dealt with in this chapter are discussed. Disease epidemics often preceded by months or years what was considered ‘first contact’ with indigenous groups (see Chapter 2). Trade routes and extensive travelling brought remote indigenous peoples into contact with groups already

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infected with kuben kan˜e (non-Indian diseases) (see Chapter 2). Traders or raiding parties then spread the diseases and/or brought them back to their villages. ‘Permanent contact’ with the Kayapó was not established until 1936. Missionaries and FUNAI (the Brazilian Indian Agency) routinely used Western medical treatment to secure contact with Indian groups. According to Horace Banner, one of the first Protestant missionaries to live with the Kayapó, the inhabitants of Gorotire had little choice but to establish peaceful relations with the White Man, because they were weak from kuben kan˜e and had been reduced to only 250 people; within a year that number had fallen to only 85. Such a demographic collapse obviously had profound effects on all aspects of Kayapó society, especially their health and medical beliefs. Medicines brought into the region by the Unevangelized Fields Missions were attributed with saving entire Kayapó villages (such as Kub˜en-krã-kein and Kokrajmoro) in the 1950s. Such ‘miracles’ convinced the Kayapó that kuben medicine was powerful, although they never abandoned their traditional cures. The Kayapó are unanimous in insisting that prior to the arrival of kuben kanê, Indians died only from old age or accidents, not from diseases. With the arrival of white people, however, deadly new diseases appeared along with a general weakening (m˜etykdjà) of the Indians that permitted their own diseases to become more powerful and deadly. Today, there is generally a clear distinction between what is a non-Indian disease (kuben kan˜e) treated with non-Kayapó medicine and what is an Indian disease (mêbengôkre kan˜e) treated with traditional medicine.

Sociological considerations Medical specialization must be viewed within the sociological (emic) context of local concepts of life, death, illness and curing (Fabrega 1975). Curers amongst the Kayapó can be classified into two basic categories: me˜ kute pidjà mari (medicinal plant knowers) and wayanga (shaman). The former deal only with non-spiritual diseases, while the latter also manipulate spirits in their curing methods; both cure with a variety of plants and plant concoctions. Our survey of the village in 1984 showed that five per cent of the population were considered as wayanga, with 26 per cent of the population being considered as practitioners in one or more disease specialities. To understand the nature of the power of the wayanga to cure, one must understand how a person can become a shaman. This transformation was explained to D.A. Posey by Beptopoop in Gorotire in 1978 (see Chapter 6). A wayanga is capable of leaving his/her body (kà) and being transformed into other physical forms. The energy (karõn) can be stored temporarily in rocks, but inevitably gets transformed into armadillos, doves or bats. The spider’s web represents the barrier between the visible and invisible worlds. Armadillos are persistent animals that know how to burrow under the web; doves are powerful fliers and can break through the barrier; while bats are such skilful fliers that they can manoeuvre through the strands.

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The most powerful shamans can transform themselves into not just one of the animals, but all of them. Once on the other side of the spider’s web, after passing through the endless dark chasm, they enter into the spectral frequency for each animal (mry-karõn). Some shamans learn the secrets of only one or a few animals and their energies, while others ‘know all’ (in the words of the myth). They have learned about all of the spectral frequencies and their respective animal energies. Upon return to their bodies, the wayanga begin to ‘work with’ (nhipex) the animal energies encountered in their transformations. There are literally dozens of different specialists (Elisabetsky and Posey 1985, 1991). The basis of the ‘work’ is to maintain a balance between animal energies and human energies (see Chapter 4). Eating the meat of, coming in contact with, or even dreaming about animals can cause an imbalance in these energies, as can a well-elaborated list of antisocial actions. Wayanga use a great variety of techniques for restoring balance, but plants are the most common ‘mediators’ (Elisabetsky and Posey 1991). Plants have qualities that can either harm or help the balance between human and animal energies – indeed, most Indians say that all plants have curative values. In any case, the Kayapó respect both plants and animals, because their energies are keys to the health of the Kayapó society. Permission is asked when taking the life of an animal, and songs of appreciation are offered to the spirits of the dead animals. Likewise, annual rituals extol the importance of plants and instill a great sense of respect for their overall role in the socioecological balance (see Chapter 4). The Kayapó have no question about their existence and future health being dependent upon plants and animals and the forces of nature.

Kayapó diseases that include gastrointestinal disorders Hàk kanê (bird disease) and tep kanê (fish disease) are two major classes of diseases that include gastrointestinal symptoms as important markers. Hàk kanê is associated with dizziness and diarrhoea. Tep kanê is associated with diarrhoea, yellow body and generalized pain. Gastrointestinal disorders, with or without diarrhoea, can have both spirit and non-spirit causes. Spirit-related diseases are difficult to evaluate in ethnopharmacological research, because cultural factors are too complex to be easily interpreted. All Kayapó diseases, however, include some treatment practices that lend themselves to field and laboratory evaluation. For the Kayapó, gastrointestinal disorders can have spirit-based sources transmitted by the wrong food that is eaten by a child’s father or some other relative. Food taboos help differentiate age grades and lineage groups. Dietary infringements cause a spiritual/social imbalance that, in turn, causes the child to become sick without any direct contact with the relative. Sometimes food can be improperly hunted, collected, cleaned or prepared and, through eating the food, the person gets sick; a mother can contaminate her child through her milk. All circumstances are common with hàk and tep kanê. Whether a disease is spirit related or not is not always obvious to the specialist (me˜ kutê pidjà mari). Frequently, the illness is considered to be spirit based when


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Table 13.1 Plant species used to treat hàk kanê and tep kanê Plant species used to treat hàk kanê No.

Species

Family

Part of plant

Route

884 776 893 631 755 873

Apocynaceae Apocynaceae Aristolochiaceae Asclepiadaceae Asclepiadaceae Bignoniaceae

Flower, leaf Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Leaf, sap Whole plant

Oral Oral Oral Oral External, oral Oral

Burseraceae Combretaceae Compositae Connaraceae Euphorbiaceae Euphorbiaceae

Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Leaf

Oral, sniff External, oral External External External, sniff Sniff, stuff nose

780

Mandevilla cf scabra K. Schum M. tenuifolia (Mikan) Wood. Aristolochia sp. Barjonia sp. Blepharodon sp. Arrabidaea cf. cinnamomea (DC) Sandw. Protium unifoliolatum Engl. Terminalia sp. Wulffia baccata Kunt. Rourea induta Planch. Sapium poeppigii Hemsl. Sebastiania corniculata Muell.Arg. Coutoubea ramosa Aubl.

Gentianaceae

Whole plant

667 634 751 923

Olyra latifolia L. Cassia sp. Desmodium adscandens DC Periandra heterophylla Bentz.

Gramineae Leguminosae Leguminosae Leguminosae

Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant

721

Phaseolus sp.

Leguminosae

Whole plant

689

Spigelia anthelmia L.

Loganiaceae

Whole plant

1010 Utricularia oliverana Steyerm.

Lentibulariaceae

662 666 659

Byrsonima aerugo Sargot. Diplopterys pauciflora Niedenzo Miconia barbigera DC

Malpighiaceae Malpighiaceae Melastomataceae

Ashes of whole plant Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant

External, eye drops, nose drops External External External, oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose, mouth; oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose and mouth; sniff Eye drops, nose drops Oral

774 675 691

Cissampelos tropaeolifolia DC Heliconia psittacorum Sw. Ouratea hexasperma var. planchonii Baill. Oxalis barrelieri Willd. ex Zucc.

Menispermaceae Heliconiaceae Ochnaceae

Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant

Oxalidaceae

Whole plant

656 678 690 651 752 760

685

Oral Oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose and mouth; external, oral External, oral External Eye drops, nose drops, oral External

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Table 13.1 Continued No.

Species

Family

Part of plant

Route

775 635

Desmoncus sp. Borreria sp. G.F.W. Mey

Palmae Rubiaceae

Whole plant Whole plant

684 949

Faramea egensis M.Arg. Geophila gracilis DC

Rubiaceae Rubiaceae

Whole plant Whole plant

623

Palicourea quadrifolia (Rudg.) Steyerm. Psychotria sp. Spiranthera odoratissima St. Hil.

Rubiaceae

Whole plant

Rubiaceae Rutaceae

Whole plant Leaf

Eye drops Eye drops; drops in eyes, ear and mouth Oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose and mouth Eye drops, nose drops, oral Oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose, mouth

979 754

Plant species used to treat tep kanê No.

Species

897 564 618 524

Family

Part of plant

Route

Acanthaceae Annonaceae Annonaceae Apocynaceae

Whole plant Fruit, flower, bark Seeds Whole plant

External, oral Oral External External

Aristolochiaceae Balanophoraceae Capparidaceae Compositae Euphorbiaceae Gentianaceae Leguminosae Ochnaceae Passifloraceae

Tuber Whole plant Leaf Tuber Leaf Fruit, stem Whole plant Whole plant Whole plant

Ruellia sp. Annona coriacea Mart. Annona crassifolia Mart. Mandevilla tenuifolia (Mikan) Wood. 724 Aristolochia sp. 767 Helosis cayenensis Spreng. 766 Cleome gulanensis Aubl. 796 Vernonia herbacea Rusby 1003 Croton aff. agraphilius M.Arg. 727 Coutoubea ramosa Aubl. 655 Arachis sp. 649 Sauvagesia erecta L. 788 Passiflora alata Dryand

731 695 782 745 679

Piper snethlagei Yucker Polypodium phyllitidis L. Psychotria lupulina Benth. Anemia oblongifolia Sw. Zingiber officinale Rosc.

Piperaceae Polypodiaceae Rubiaceae Schizaeaceae Zingiberaceae

911

Xyris sp.

Xyridaceae

Oral Oral External, oral External, oral Oral External, oral Oral Oral Drops in eyes, ears, nose and mouth; external, oral Leaf External Whole plant Oral Whole plant Oral Leaf, whole plant External, oral Whole plant External, oral sniff Whole plant Oral


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normal cures are unsuccessful or symptoms worsen after treatment. Simultaneously occurring sicknesses also complicate diagnosis and usually wayanga are called in for evaluation and treatment. A series of wayanga may be consulted before the correct specialist is found.

Kayapó pharmacy The Kayapó are precise in regard to their traditional pharmacological technique and posology. Modes of preparation of medicines include: plants prepared with cold or warm water, plants mixed with cold water then left to boil, plant sap extracted by squeezing, plants heated over fire, plants crushed and mixed with Genipa americana (genipapo) and charcoal or with Bixa orellana for body painting. The principal ways to administer a medicine are: cold tea, hot tea, topical baths of specific parts or the whole body, external topical application (heated leaf or sap) over affected areas, drops in eyes, nose or ears, rubbing on the face or affected areas, wrapping bark around affected parts of the body, sleeping on top of a plant, sniffing, inhaling the smoke and stuffing in the nose. Each treatment includes the time of day a medicine will be given, almost always between one and five times daily. Times are indicated by pointing to the sky, with the temporal points being: sunrise, mid-morning, noon, mid-afternoon and sunset. A specific number of days is prescribed, depending upon the diagnosis by the curer. Most treatments require medication for between one and five days, although some are indicated for ‘use as long as needed’. Dosage is adjusted for each patient, especially infants and children. Certain curers have preferences for modes of preparation and application of their medicines.

Results and discussion Plants used for tep kanê include 19 species, distributed among 18 genera and 18 families (see Table 13.1); most treatments are internal. Plants used for hàk kanê include 34 species, distributed among 33 genera and 21 families (see Table 13.1); most of these treatments are also internal. Plants used for diarrhoea include seven species, distributed among six genera and five families (Table 13.2); all species are given orally. All the plants listed are prepared in water. Several classes of natural substances such as alkaloids (e.g. castanospermine, lycorine and papaverine), polyphenolic compounds, phenolic glycosides, tannins, lectins, protein polysaccharide complexes, sulphated polysaccharides, mixtures of sugars, proteins and inorganic elements, flavonoids, flavones and saponins are reported to posses antiviral activity (Ieven et al. 1982; Van Hoof et al. 1984, 1989; Vlietinck and Van den Berghe 1991). Flavones, a class of flavonoids, are of special interest because they have attractive antiviral mechanisms of action, a pronounced and broad spectrum of activity and do not show induction of resistance.

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Table 13.2 Plant species used to treat diarrhoea1 Collection Species no.

Family

Part of plant

961 969 537 555 603 617 540

Loranthaceae Loranthaceae Myrtaceae Rubiaceae Selaginellaceae Vochysiaceae Vochysiaceae

Leaf Whole plant Fruit, root Flower, leaf Sap, whole plant Leaf Leaf

Psittacanthus biternatus Blume Struthanthus marginatus (Desr.) Don Eugenia punicaefolia DC Palicourea cf. crocea Schlecht. Selaginella penniformis (Lam.) Hieron Qualea grandiflora Mart. Q. multiflora Mart.

1

All plant extracts are given orally; those of S. penniformis may also be applied externally.

Most genera employed by the Kayapó for the treatment of gastrointestinal disorders include species that contain classes of compounds relevant to antiviral activity, or are related to species used by other peoples for viral diseases or gastrointestinal troubles. Among medicinal species used by several Amazonian Indians, for instance, Ruellia colorata is used by the Kofán as a vermifuge and vomitive and Ruellia aff. malacosperma is used for diarrhoea, measles and fever (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Among the Annonaceae, Heinrich et al. (1992a, b) report that Annona muricata is used in Mexico for diarrhoea; Caceres et al. (1990) report that Annona cherimola, A. muricata and A. reticulata are used in Guatemala for diarrhoea; and Grenand et al. (1987) found that Annona ambotay and Annona haematantha are used in French Guyana as febrifuges. Also in French Guyana, Aristolochia staheli is used as a febrifuge; Aristolochia leprieurii is used for diarrhoea; and Aristolochia trilobata for hepatitis and malaria (Grenand et al. 1987). Ieven et al. (1979) report that Aristolochia elegans and Aristolochia forckelii have antibacterial activity against Escherichia coli, Staphylococcus aureus and Pseudomonas aeruginosa. Helosis guyanensis is used for diarrhoea and dysentery. Among the Bignoniaceae, Arrabidea chica is used by the Tikuna for common conjunctivitis (especially in children), whereas they use Arrabidea xanthophylla for serious conjunctivitis (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Several Protium species are used for relieving nasal congestion associated with colds (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Wulffia baccata is used in Guyana for colds, nausea and as a febrifuge (Grenand et al. 1987). Byrsonima species are rich in tannins and Byrsonima ciliata is used by the Kubeo for diarrhoea and is said to be very effective (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Several species of Eugenia (like Eugenia uniflora) are used in Brazil for diarrhoea; their effect is usually attributed to the high tannin content of many species of this genus. Eugenia florida and Eugenia patrissi are used by Indians for treatment of respiratory problems (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Heinrich et al. (1992b) report antibacterial and antifungal activ-


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ity for Eugenia acapulcensis, used orally to treat diarrhoea and dysentery by the Mixe in Mexico. Among the Gentianaceae, Grenand et al. (1987) report that Coutoubea ramosa is used as a vermifuge and febrifuge. Miconia barbigera is used in Guyana to treat dysentery (Grenand et al. 1987). Cissampelos pareira is used in Mexico for diarrhoea and dysentery (Heinrich et al. 1992a) and in Guatemala for diarrhoea, dysentery, stomach pains and worms (Caceres et al. 1990). Ieven et al. (1979) report that Heliconia psittacorum has activity against S. aureus, E. coli and Pseudomonas aeruginosa. Very little is known about the chemistry of Ochnaceae, but tannins and flavonoids were reported in Sauvagesia species; Sauvagesia erecta is used by the Siona for stomach-ache and other Sauvagesia species are used by the Kofan for stomach pains (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). According to Grenand et al. (1987) S. erecta is used in French Guyana as a febrifuge. Species of Passifloraceae are known to contain alkaloids, phenols and tannins. Passiflora cumbalensis and Passiflora killipiana are used for treating fever, whereas Passiflora phaeocaula is used for conjunctivitis and Passiflora serratodigitata for eye inflammation (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). According to Caceres et al. (1990), Passiflora ligularis is used for diarrhoea, dysentery, stomach pains and indigestion in Guatemala. Passiflora edulis is active against Pseudomonas aeruginosa (Ieven et al. l 979) and devoid of antiviral activity (Van den Berghe et al. 1978). Grenand et al. (1987) report the use of Passiflora coccinea for conjunctivitis and Passiflora laurifolia as a vermifuge. Species of Piperaceae are commonly used in many medical systems. Ethereal oils, mono- and sesquiterpenes, phenyl propanoids, polyphenols, lignans and alkaloids were reported to be present in the family and alkaloids are common in the genus Piper. Piper arboretum is used to treat stomach poisoning; Piper augustus and Piper caudatum are used as carminatives; Piper futuri is for ‘sick stomach’ and Piper macerispicum for stomach pains (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Faramea (Rubiaceae) are little known chemically but alkaloids were found in two Brazilian species: Faramea anisocalyx is used to treat food poisoning; Faramea glandulosa and Faramea saliafolia are used for fever (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). Palicourea species are known to be bioactive and sometimes highly toxic: Palicourea buntigii is used for respiratory problems, Palicourea corymbifera for persistent cough and chest ailments, Palicourea crocea as an emetic after food poisoning from fish or meat, and Palicourea guianensis as a vermifuge (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). The genus Psychotria is rich in bioactive alkaloids: Psychotria brachiata is used for problems in breathing, Psychotria capitata for severe colds, Psychotria egensis as an emetic, Psychotria poeppigiana for pulmonary ailments and Psychotria rufescens for dysentery. Psychotria lupulina is reported to yield strong positives in alkaloid tests (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990). From the relatively unknown Vochysiaceae, deoxyflavones were isolated; Qualea acuminata is used as a vermifuge (Schultes and Rauffauf 1990).

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Therefore for at least 18 genera there is additional evidence for biological activity and/or related use relevant to Kayapó treatment and usage. Interestingly, for the Kayapó nearly all plants take their names from the diseases they are used to treat. Thus the plant ‘families’ of tep kanê and hàk kanê are based not on morphological characteristics, but rather on functional similarities that cover a wide range of Western taxonomic botanical families.

Conclusion In the search for plant-derived antiviral agents, the screening of a relatively low number of randomly selected plants has afforded a remarkably high number of active leads in comparison with screening of synthetic compounds. Comparing different approaches of plant collecting, Vlietinck and Van den Berghe (1991) showed that folk-based collections give a five times higher rate (circa 25 per cent) of active leads, whereas random collections offer fewer leads but more novel compounds. It is noteworthy that natural substances interfere with a range of viral targets, which can mean that they show mechanisms of action complementary to those of existing antiviral drugs. Because natural products are known to yield prototypic drugs, with innovative mechanisms of action, the end-points of screens must be carefully selected and interpreted in order to avoid false negatives. In vivo assays continue to be the stepping-stone between in vitro evaluation and human trials. Too often, the therapeutic ratio of active compounds is inadequate. This may be in part because the concentrations in target tissues are not sufficient under dosing conditions owing to species-specific characteristics of absorption, tissue distribution, metabolism and excretion (Vlietinck and Van den Berghe 1991). As a result, election of species claimed by humans to be therapeutically useful in the treatment of viral conditions might be a very significant gain in the research and development of antiviral drugs. The Kayapó have great faith in their medicines for treatment of ‘their’ diseases. They offer us an interesting list of candidates as potential sources of antiviral compounds. The diversity of genera and species included in these lists is unlikely to be obtained by following any chemotaxonomy based strategy. These species should be considered with the seriousness deserving of the original discoverers, because their medical concepts are still the best guides to biomedical evaluation and understanding of the parameters of their diseases.

Chapter 14

Use of contraceptive and related plants by the Kayapó Indians (Brazil) 1

Introduction Contraceptive drugs are widely used today, but they still present a series of undesired side-effects. Safer contraceptives are becoming increasingly important in countries where there is a growing consciousness of the benefits of family planning, both in individual and social contexts. Natural products as a whole, and medicinal plants in particular, have historically contributed ‘prototype drugs’ (Malone 1983) to the medical sciences. Such drugs have completely different chemical structures to existing agents, and entirely different medical applications. The discovery of each new prototype drug has resulted in major changes in medical practices, and evidence of the interest in plant sources for prototypic contraceptive agents has been provided by a World Health Organization programme devised specifically for this purpose (WHO 1977) and numerous investigations (see Farnsworth et al. 1975 for review). Traditional medical systems view illness, curing and human physiology as a series of interrelationships between nature, supernature, society and the individual (Fabrega 1975). Research projects aiming to evaluate the pharmacological effects of traditional medicines would have a significantly better success rate if native medical concepts were taken into account in the generation of working hypotheses (Wassen 1979; Davis and Yost 1983; Elisabetsky and Setzer 1985). If ethnopharmacological information on the use, preparation and posology of ethnomedicines is not carefully analysed from a culturally relativistic perspective, then the selection of plants to be evaluated by biomedical methods will inevitably include those used to treat diseases not recognized by western medicine. This could limit the cross-cultural application of prototype drugs. The purpose of this chapter is to present ethnopharmacological data on concepts of fertility and conception held by the Kayapó Indians of Brazil’s Amazon Basin. It is hoped that such data can promote and improve design of scientific investigations aimed to test for cross-cultural effectiveness of drugs affecting fertility.

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Chronology and methods The results reported in this chapter are based on general data on the Kayapó collected by Posey since 1977, and specific botanical and ethnomedical data were collected during three visits of approximately one month each, by Elisabetsky and Posey in November 1983, March 1984 and October 1985. The botanical field collections were made with the assistance of Dr Anthony B. Anderson and his assistant Carlos Rosario, Department of Botany, Museu Paraense Emílio Goeldi, Belém, Pará, where the material is deposited in the Murça Pires Herbarium. Collection numbers (CN) listed in Table 14.1 refer to the filed numbers of voucher material, and those with an ‘S-’ prefix refer to specimens collected as sterile material. Ethnopharmacological data were collected from informants during the botanical survey and collecting trips. Additional ethnographic data were subsequently recorded in the village using dried specimens, which also served to cross-check informants’ responses in the field. At least three informants were consulted for each plant, with additional random information acquired from approximately 40 men and women.

The Kayapó medical system The Kayapó Indians maintain a complex and active traditional medical system despite several decades of contact with Western missionaries, medical and paramedical professionals (Elisabetsky and Posey 1985). They make a distinction between their own diseases (mêbengôkre kanê) and those brought by white people (kuben kan˜e). Since the introduction of white people’s diseases, to which they have no acquired immunity, their general health has become increasingly poor, and the Kayapó state that this weakness accentuates the negative effects of native diseases. Disease almost caused the complete disappearance of the Kayapó in the middle of the twentieth century (Verswijver 1985; Posey 1987c). The appearance of diseases unknown to the Indians defied native curers, shook their confidence in their traditional medicines, and opened a ready door for Western medicine. Today, both traditional and Western systems have their own niches in Kayapó society. Within the traditional Kayapó system there are two major classes of diseases: those caused by spirits (karõn) and those of non-spiritual origin (karõn ket). These appear to correspond to what Foster (1976) calls naturalistic/personalistic diseases. In general, spiritual diseases are regarded as more difficult to treat and, therefore, more dangerous. As with other aspects of Kayapó classification, systems boundaries are frequently obscured by overlapping elements (Posey 1983c); thus, a disease may have both physical and spiritual causes. The Kayapó recognize two major kinds of medical professionals: wayanga, the ‘true shamans’, who are able to deal with physical as well as spiritual diseases; and the me˜ kutê pidjà mari (literally, ‘the ones who know medicines’), who prescribe medicines for diseases caused by non-spiritual agents. Both are paid for

Use of contraceptive and related plants by the Kayapó Indians

151

their services. Most wayanga are specialized, i.e. each shaman has specific knowledge about a certain disease family or families. The spiritual aspect of this knowledge is acquired through a shamanistic flight into spiritual realms, where the shaman ‘becomes a friend’ with a certain animal(s) spirit(s) to which he learns to ‘speak’ (mry karõn kaben) (see Chapter 6). Some shamans are specialized in the diagnosis and treatment of non-spiritual conditions or diseases, such as shaman Aibi of Gorotire who specializes in fertility modification, which may or may not include spiritual elements.

Kayapó pharmacotechnique Today it should seem obvious to us, that, as Evans-Pritchard long ago pointed out (1937: 448), ‘medicines are not natural objects but human artifacts’. Thus, modes of preparation of medicines are extremely important for complete ethnopharmacological analysis (Elisabetsky and Setzer 1985). Native curers can describe in detail these procedures when explaining plant collections and their therapeutic preparations. There are many traditional ways to prepare remedies, each of which significantly alters the quality and quantity of the active principles absorbed. The principal method of preparation used by the Kayapó includes water extraction, which varies with the temperature chosen, from cold (kryx) to warm (kangro ngri) to hot (kangro). The time needed for the extraction can vary from a few minutes to three or more days. Preparations are determined to be ready when colour, smell and taste are judged to be correct. Examples of various methods of preparation can be found in Table 14.1. It is interesting to note that tubers, bulbs, false bulbs and leaves may be consumed in their natural states, and leaf sap is frequently squeezed out for consumption in its pure, fresh form. For fertility-related remedies the Kayapó use teas, baths, the ingestion of crude plant parts, sleeping on leaves (e.g. Barjonia sp.), wrapping body parts with vines (e.g. Bauhinia guianensis), and rubbing or massaging plant parts onto the body, usually on the stomach (e.g. Hippeastrum equestre, Mandevilla cf. scabra, Helicteres guazumaefolia, Zornia virgata). Topical treatments can also take the form of body paints, made from mixtures of plant ashes or charcoals and masticated green fruits of Genipa americana varieties. When curing is desired, medicinal plant(s) are added to this mixture. Banner (1961) reports that another body paint, made from Bixa orellana seeds, is believed to give protection from the evil influences of spirits (m˜e karõn).

Plants used to manipulate sexual activities Sexual activity among the Kayapó is regarded as a natural and desired part of life. At an early age children engage in sexual games and often paint their bodies with designs of enlarged sexual organs. Rules regarding sexual activity and taboos are complex, and vary between sex and age-grade groups (see T. Turner 1965; J.B.

Vernonia Deianira Episthephium Episthephium Bauhinia

Bowdichia Byrsonima Sida Kouriria Cybianthus Coussarea

869 820 879 733 859 S-8

Genus

796 S-11 536 536 602

CN

Asclepsias Phthirusa Cissampelos Polygala Amasonia

2516 2514 2515 908 758

5

Barjonia

Genus

2513

CN

5

7

virgilioides crassifolia cordifolia cf. dumetosa sp. paniculata

herbacea sp.7 aff lucidum aff sclerophilum guianensis

Species

cf. candida paniculata7 sp. longicaulis campestris

sp.

7

Species

Standl.

H.B.K. H.B.K. L. Cogn.

Cong. Lindl. Aubl.

Rusby.

Author

H.B.K. Moldenke

Vell. Macb.

Author f wp r f, fr r wp f

Part used6

Leguminosae Malpighiaceae Malvaceae Melastomataceae Myrsinaceae Rubiaceae

Compositae Gentianaceae Orchidaceae Orchidaceae Leguminosae

Family

wp wp wp

l l, r fb, s fb, s s s wp

Part used6

Plants used as kukryt kanê

Asclepiadaceae Loranthaceae Menispermaceae Polygalaceae Verbenaceae

Asclepiadaceae

Family

Plants used as m˜em`y rerek djà

Table 14.1 Plants used as m˜em`y rerek djà1; kukryt kanê2; m˜e tu jaro djà3; and me kra ket djà4

Oral Oral Oral,Topic Oral Topic Oral Topic Oral Oral Oral Oral Oral

Route

Oral Sleep on it Oral Oral Oral Oral Oral

Route

Crude (sap) Cold tea Cold tea Cold tea Around belly Hot tea Cold bath Cold tea Cold tea Cold tea Cold tea Hot tea

Mode of preparation

Hot tea Crude Hot tea Crude Crude Cold tea Cold tea

Mode of preparation

Hippeastrum Mandevilla Helicteres

Genus

Burmannia Icthyothere Vernonia Eupatorium Stomatanthes Deianira

Schultesia Hyptis Zornia

Cuphea Utricularia Epistephium Notylia

CN5

901 648 796 975 2507 S-11

902 2502 722

912 910 536 856

Genus

710 S-4 646

CN

5

Table 14.1 Continued

sp. cf. subulata lucidum sp.

pohliana crenata virgata

bicolor cunanbi herbacea squalidum sp. sp.

Species

equestre cf. scabra guazumaefolia

Species

L. Cogn.

Frog. Pohl. Moric.

Mart. Mart. Rusby. DC

Author

Herb. K. Schum. Pilger

Author r

Part used6

Lythraceae Lentibulariaceae Orchidaceae Orchidaceae

Gentianaceae Labiatae Leguminosae

Burmanniaceae Compositae Compositae Compositae Compositae Gentianaceae

Family

fb, l fb

wp r r

l

wp wp r l

Part used6

Plants used as me kra ket djà

Amaryllidaceae Apocynaceae Sterculiaceae

Family

Plants used as m˜e tu jaro djà

Oral Oral Oral Topic Oral Oral Oral Oral

Oral Oral Oral Oral Oral Oral

Route

Topic Topic Topic

Route

Crude Cold tea Cold and hot tea Crude Cold tea Crude Cold tea Warm tea Hot tea Crude Massage Crude Crude Crude Crude

Mode of preparation

Crude Crude Crude

Mode of preparation

Polygala var. Polygala

906

M˜emy` rerek dja` lit.‘the penis weak stuff’

Kukryt kanê lit.‘the tapir disease’ – abnormal menstrual flow

M˜e tu jaro dja` fertility medicine

Me kra ket dja` contraceptive medicine

CN = collective numbers

l = leaves; s = stem; fb = false bulbs; r = roots; wp = whole plant

Also considered contraceptive

3

4

5

6

7

Steyerm. H.B.K.

Author

2

monyicola brizoides longicaulis

Species

1

1004

Genus

CN5


Polygalaceae Polygalaceae

Family wp f, s

Part used6 Topic Oral

Route Body Crude

Mode of preparation


155

Turner 1965; Vidal 1974). Although infringement of these rules can lead to conflict, sexual fidelity seems to be more a matter of individual choice than strict social requirement. As stated by Kwyrà-kà: ‘There are those men who do not like their women to be with someone else; there are the ones who do not bother. There are some women who do not like their men to be with other women; there are those who do not bother. Those who don’t mind stay together. Those who mind break apart.’ Many Indians get married, separate and remarry several times. Some Indian men, specially chiefs, may have several sexual partners. During the advanced stages of pregnancy, a woman ceases to have sexual intercourse. After this point, her husband is permitted to seek another woman for sexual activities known as prõn kaàk, or ‘false wife’ (T. Turner 1965). Some women, known as menire kuprã, choose not to have a husband, but prefer to be sexual partners of several men of a men’s society (Verswijver 1985). Menire kuprã have been described by Werner (1984) as sexual specialists, paid for their services. According to informant Paiakan, however, menire kuprã refers to adult women who have never married, have separated from their husbands, or have become widows. Special places in the forest are reserved for courtship and love-making. Islands of forest in the campo-cerrado, called apêtê, for example, are used for this purpose (Posey 1984b). Traditionally, group sex (paja’ô) is included in certain ceremonial events (see T. Turner 1965; Verswijver 1985). Basically, plants used to manipulate sexual activities are divided into two groups: (a) those that stimulate male activity, called m˜em`y tyx djà (literally, ‘the penis hard stuff’) and (b) those that diminish male performance, called m˜em`y rerek djà (literally, ‘the penis weak stuff’). The latter were described by informant Kudjare as medicines that women give to men ‘when a man does not allow the woman to sleep’. As J.B. Turner (1965: 60) noted, and our fieldwork confirms, payment for sexual medicines often involves ‘exorbitant fees’ (pajnh rax). Knowledge of sexually manipulative plants is frequently secret and is said to be controlled by men. Knowledge of these plants is usually guarded and highly valued. Table 14.1 lists plant species used as m˜em`y rerek djà.

Plants used to control menstruation It is assumed that a girl has had sexual experience before her first period. Since the bride is very often a teenager, the Kayapó would not distinguish between blood from the first menses and blood from first sexual intercourse. During menstrual periods women do not go to their plantations, but remain near rivers and streams and bathe frequently. According to J.B. Turner (1965: 63), Kayapó women seem to have quite irregular menses, ‘for many women pass months without a period’. However, in contrast to Turner’s conclusion that the Kayapó do not look upon menstruation as ‘a normal organic function, but rather as a disease’, we found menstruation to be regarded as a normal part of female physiology (menire kamrô). If the menstrual period is heavy, with abnormally profuse flow (menorrhagia) and painful spasms, it is considered to be a disease. Depending upon the

156


intensity of the episode, the following names are used: kukryt kanê (literally ‘the tapir disease’) or kamrô kanê (literally, ‘the blood disease’). Kukryt kanê is the stronger, recurrent form of the two, considered the more difficult to treat. Women with this disease can suffer debilitating pain, weakness and very intense bleeding. It is common in the Kayapó medical system to name diseases after animals (Elisabetsky and Posey 1985). In this case the Kayapó say that the strong blood flux is similar to the jet-like nature of the tapir’s urine stream. Since Kayapó contraceptives are said to ‘dry the women’s body’, leading to no menstruation, milk or pregnancy, this may account for Turner’s observation of irregular menses. Referring to Kayapó contraceptives, Banner (1961: 13) states that ‘it is at least possible that these interrupt the menstrual cycle’. Plants used to restore menstrual flux to normal levels or to stop it entirely, and eliminate pain, are listed in Table 14.1. It is interesting to note that two of the kukryt kanê plants are also considered contraceptives (mekraketdjà, see Table 14.1). Use of the same plants varies depending upon the part of the plant used and the dose. It is interesting to note that compounds used in some Western contraceptive pills may also be used, depending on dosage, to control menstrual cycles. Thus, there is an interesting parallel between Kayapó and Western fertility management methods.

Plants used to promote fertility The relation between sexual acts and pregnancy is not easily defined for the Kayapó. On the one hand, contraceptive plants (mekraketdjà) are thought to have sufficient force to protect a woman from pregnancy despite having had sex with one or more men. As one chief said in testimony to the plant’s effectiveness, ‘a woman can go with as many men as she wants and will not get pregnant’. On the other hand, some plants (m˜e tu jaro djà) are considered to be sufficiently effective to cause pregnancy even without having any sexual relations whatsoever. In this case, according to informant Uté, the plant itself is the ‘source’ of the child. This is corroborated by another informant, Pykatire, who offered the following observation: ‘Just look at my son. Isn’t he beautiful? Now, look at me. See, the reason he is beautiful like this is because my wife was treated with the plant and, therefore, he is the plant’s son.’ It may be difficult for a woman to get pregnant when her body is considered dirty. The following cleansing treatment was described by shaman Kwyrà-Kà: ‘The husband should go to the forest to collect and prepare the medicines (m˜e tu jaro) to be used. Early in the morning, both husband and wife should go together to a stream and there the man covers the wife’s body with river mud mixed with already prepared medicines. The waters of the river are then allowed to wash away the mixture covering the woman’s body along with the dirtiness that is preventing her from getting pregnant. The best season for this treatment is after the dry season, when small rivers start to receive new clean water. At night the husband should sleep with an eye on his sleeping wife. Whenever he ‘sees’ that she


157

is dreaming, he should wake her up and listen to her report. If she has been dreaming of a child, then she is already pregnant.’ Dreams are frequently used by the Kayapó to predict events and diagnose diseases. Dreams in this case are thought to be provoked by qualities inherent in the m˜e tu jaro djà. This belief is related to the Kayapó idea of energy (iprê-re) that must be ‘sung’ into a woman to create a child (opex djà mengrere). According to the informant Pykatire, it is the singing of the shamans that transfers the iprê-re of the plant spirit (karõn) into the woman. These special shamans are called me kute m˜e tu jaro mari and are said to have special plants that determine the sex of children. Plants used to ‘produce’ male children are called mekra my djà; plants for female children are called mekra nire djà. Table 14.1 lists plants used as fertility medicines, some of which are specific as to the sex of the child (Hippeastrum equestre for female children; Helicteres guazumaefolia for male children). Mandevilla cf. scabra is a general fertility medicine that does not affect sex determination. All the listed medicines are applied topically.

Plants used during pregnancy Plants known as meprire kin djà are slept on or bathed with in order to ensure the birth of healthy and strong children. One such plant, Piper marginatum Jacq., is said to produce children with desirable jet-black hair (ka krã tyk). Table 14.1 lists some of these plants. Helicteres guazumaefolia Pilger, according to shaman Beptopoop, is also used to ensure male children; the same plant collected on another occasion (CN 646) was said by the same shaman to be used as post-partum medicine.

Plants used during and after labour Birthing ideally takes place in the home and in the presence of the woman’s close female relatives. Only under certain circumstances, such as when the child is in an abnormal position, is a male shaman (m˜e kra-o pôx djà mari) allowed to be present. At the onset of labour pains the woman’s relatives massage her stomach with Bixa orellana leaves. A mixture of the seeds of Dipterix cumaru and the apex of the operculum of the fruits of Bertolletia excelsa HBK are used to prepare a tea that is then drunk. If control of post-partum bleeding is necessary this is achieved through the use of the heated seed of Bixa orellana. When a child is born, latex of the Hymatanthus aff. obovata (Muell.-Arg) Woodson (CN 561) is used to paint a stripe between the eyes, over the nose and as a collar. This is said to protect the new born child from diseases that will result if his father kills a snake. The stem of the Helicteres guazumaefolia (CN 646) is then wound about the mother’s wrist to make her sleep. The wrist is the preferred location because ‘it stays near the face’. Medicines used in this way are said to be so strong that just smelling them is enough.

158


Plants used as contraceptives and abortives Contraceptive plants are known as m˜e kra ket djà (‘the no child stuff’); abortives are called m˜e pari djà (‘killing stuff’). It is important to emphasize that m˜e kra ket djà is not a single plant, but rather a group of plants considered to have the same therapeutic properties. It is common in the Kayapó system of plant classification to find large family groupings based upon related therapeutic effects (Posey 1987c). Dreyfus (1963) reports only externally applied contraceptives, whereas Banner (1961) reports the use of oral contraceptives as well. Neither author provides scientific names of plants used. J.B. Turner (1965: 60) reports the use of the pseudobulb of the orchid Rodriguesia secunda (Dunsterville and Garay 1979), which is crushed and rubbed over the woman’s body. Based upon our specimen (CN 536) however, this orchid has been determined to be Epistephium aff. lucidum (Martius and Eichler, 1896), and is used both topically and orally. Contraceptives are said to be taken only once in order to ‘never have children’. According to some, but not all, specialists, m˜e tu jaro djà (‘fertility medicine’) can be subsequently taken to reverse the effects of the contraceptives. This is said to be very hard to attain. If undesired pregnancy occurs, a woman may take m˜e pari djà to abort the pregnancy. This latter practice appears to be most common among young women who have never had children (m˜e kurerere) and has already been reported by Banner (1961). Although male specialists collect and prepare fertility-related drugs, women recognized our drying specimens and confirmed multiple use. One unconfirmed report indicates that collective abortion occurs before festivals, ‘in order to allow the woman to dance freely’. The only positively identified specimen used as an abortive is Tanaecium vulgare (kangàra-kanê), which is drunk in a single dose as a strong tea. It is known that this species contains cyanogenic alkaloids (Kerr and Posey 1988), which may account for the described action. It is interesting to note that 59 per cent of the m˜e kra ket djà plants described to date fall into only three botanical families: Compositae (33 per cent), Orchidaceae (13 per cent) and Polygalaceae (13 per cent). Out of the 15 collected plants, 12 are orally ingested.

Discussion and conclusion The Kayapó have great faith in the effectiveness of their fertility and contraceptive medicines. It is interesting to note that in 1979, according to Indian Bureau (FUNAI) and missionary census, the Kayapó women had an average of only 2.3 children (Posey 1979b). During this period, the Gorotire Kayapó had a general policy of limiting reproduction because several old shamans had had visions that the Kayapó lands would be overtaken by ranchers; therefore, it was not desirable to raise children under such conditions. In the mid-1980s, promise of land demarcation and protection of indigenous rights generated new hope and a change in the


159

village elders’ policy toward an increase in children. Today, for example, women are discouraged from using m˜e kra ket djà. According to a missionary census done in 1985, 20–30-year-old women have on average 5.2 children. These data are inadequate to generate sophisticated demographic analyses. Furthermore, various historical factors have influenced fertility rates, including pacification, inter-village migration, and complex changes in nutritional and social patterns (Werner 1983; Verswijver 1985). As Newman (1986: 11) points out ‘determinants of fertility behaviour often derive from values or perceptions that have little to do with conception and contraception themselves’. As Kayapó concepts relating sexual acts to procreation are culturally complex, evaluation of the effectiveness of fertility-related medicines is further complicated. However, the variety of plants used for fertility control by the Kayapó, their detailed knowledge about preparation, administration and dosage, and their faith in the effectiveness of these methods, are sufficient to justify evaluation procedures. Since the screening process is expensive and time consuming, it is necessary to optimize selection for both species and methods to achieve the highest possible success rate. Natural products research aimed at the discovery of new therapeutic compounds has two main instruments available for this selection: chemotaxonomy and ethnopharmacology (Elisabetsky and Gély 1987). Chemotaxonomy indicates plant families with a higher likelihood of containing certain classes of compounds, and is specially useful in the discovery of new sources of known (or closely related) compounds. Ethnopharmacology identifies species through information provided by native users, perhaps pointing out sources of prototypic compounds. Some uncertainties inherent to ethnopharmacological data may be minimized by comparing uses of the same plant species by various ethnic groups. If several species from a given plant genus or family are used by different ethnic groups for related therapeutic effects, these plants are probably more likely to have relevant pharmacological actions. In other words, if the same species is used for the same purpose by several groups, these species have a higher likelihood of cross-cultural effectiveness. The analysis of preparation methods and routes of administration can give insights to better plant selection. For instance, taking into account that water-soluble compounds are poorly absorbed through skin, it can be suggested that topical treatments are effective only if the mode of preparation is such that the remedy contains absorbable compounds. In this context, a leaf that is heated and applied to an affected area or a massage with a medicinal oil, is more likely to be effective than a bath with a cold-water preparation. Cold baths could be effective if there is a volatile active compound that might be inhaled. Table 14.2 shows those Kayapó plants (or related species) that are similarly used by other societies. It is noteworthy that 48 per cent of the species used by the Kayapó as medicines to interfere with sex or fertility are also used by other cultures for related purposes.

160


As for the fertility promoting plants, it should be noted that all species collected to date are used topically. Moreover, the whole concept of fertility promotion, along with treatment description, suggest that these are culturally bound medicines. Species of Mandevilla are used by other groups as treatments for venereal diseases and also fertility promoters. Mandevilla vellutina has shown anti-inflammatory and bradykinin-antagonist activities (Calixto et al. 1985, 1987). Regarding the contraceptives, it is noteworthy that Polygala monyicola var. brizoides Steyerm and Polygala longicaulis H.B.K. are used by both Kayapó and Chinese for the same purpose. P. longicaulis seems especially interesting since it is used orally. Another relevant aspect of these two species is that they come from cerrado (savanna) rather than forest. Our field data suggest that the savanna plants are the most popular contraceptives in Gorotire. Werner (1983: 239) reports that the Mekranoti Kayapó state that contraceptives obtained from the forest are not effective; they ‘insisted, however, that certain contraceptives found in the cerrado regions of Brazil were effective’. It is conceivable that the difficult environment of the cerrado leads these species to metabolic pathways that generate biologically active compounds (Janzen 1974). Eupatorium squalidum DC is used orally as a contraceptive by Kayapó. E. inulaefolum is used as a contraceptive in Paraguay; E. laevigatum, E. macrocephalum are used in Argentina as abortives and E. polyanthum is used in the same region as emmenagogue. Vernonia herbaceae, another Composite, is also used orally, either to control menstruation or as a contraceptive, with different modes of preparation. Both E. squalidum and V. herbaceae are found in cerrado. The orchid Epistephium lucidum Cogn. deserves mention, since it is used orally and is elsewhere reported for other Kayapó groups (Turner 1965). It appears to be the most popular in Gorotire. We were unable to identify the species of Cuphea used orally by the Kayapó. Nonetheless, the genus seems to be interesting since C. glutinosa, C. longiflora and C. racemosa are all used as emmenagogues in Argentina. The latter is also reported in the region as an abortive. Hyptis crenata is used orally by Kayapó. In Argentina, H. floribunda and H. mutabilis are used as abortives. All of these species are found in the cerrado. Therefore, the most promising of the Kayapó contraceptives for ethnopharmacological research are those belonging to the genera Polygala, Eupatorium, Cuphea and Hyptis, and the orchid E. lucidum. Since these contraceptives are said to have permanent effects, screening experiments should check for possible actions upon the pituitary gland. The relationships between ethnomedical practices and remedies with physiological processes can perhaps be better understood through spirit (karõn) relationships. What has generally been ignored as being ‘non-scientific’ can, after all, be a highly codified and symbolic manner of recognizing – and streamlining for the sake of efficient oral transmission of cultural information – a wide range of related observations through accumulated years of cultural history by native groups. Studies of such symbolic systems requires a long-term commitment to learning language and culture, but may in the long run offer the greatest breakthroughs in medical knowledge.

Brazil Argentina

Argentina Paraguay

Syphilis Emmenagogue

Abortive Contraceptive

Contraceptive Anti-aphrodisiac Fertility promoter

Contraceptive

Contraceptive

Cissampelos sp. Mandevilla cf. scabra

Bauhinia guianensis Bowdichia virgilioides Sida cordifolia Polygala monyicola var. brizoides Cuphea sp.

Eupatorium squalidum

Menses control Menses control Menses control Contraceptive

Contraceptive Emmenagogue Venereal disease Fertility promoter Venereal disease Syphilis Abortion Contraceptive

Anti-aphrodisiac

Polygala longicaulis

China Argentina Yucatan Venezuela Trinidad Brazil China China

Yucatan Guatemala China China

Venereal disease Leucorrhoea Irregular menses Irregular menses

Anti-aphrodisiac

Region

Asclepias cf. candida

Group 2 use

Kayapó use

Species

Table 14.2 Uses of related species by Kayapó and other groups1

Crovetto (p.284) Arenas (p.299)

Morton (p.512) Crovetto (p.284)

Kong (p.32) Crovetto (p.283) Morton (p.674) Morton (p.553) Morton (p.279) Morton (p.280) Kong (p.26) Kong (p.32)

Morton (p.687) Morton (p.687) Kong (p.33) Kong (p.32)

Reference

C. carthagenensis C. glutinosa C. longiflora C. racemosa C. racemosa E. inulaefolia

S. szechuensis

C. pareira M. subsagittata M. subsagittata B. excisa

P. arillata P. aureocauda P. japonica P. telephioides

Related species

Region Argentina Argentina Argentina

Group 2 use Abortive Emmenagogue Abortive

Crovetto (p.285) Crovetto (p.285)

Crovetto (p.285)

Reference

Related species are listed whenever species used by Group 2 are not identical to the species used by the Kayapó.

Contraceptive

Hyptis crenata

1

Kayapó use

Species


E. laevigatum E. macrocephalum E. polyanthum H. floribunda H. mutabilis

Related species

Part III

Kayapó land management

Chapter 15

Preliminary results on soil management techniques of the Kayapó Indians 1

Amazon soils issues in context The grisly history of the Amazon is one of conquest, disease, slavery, persecution and displacement of the natives, leading to dizzying demographic collapses (cf. Hemming 1987). More than just colourful rituals and quaint folkways were lost in the attrition and extinction of native populations. The science constituting the material base of these societies was often partially or completely destroyed, including their soil knowledge and management techniques. The Kayapó certainly suffered from contact, but they were never formally dominated or enslaved (Bamberger 1967). To the contrary, they routinely terrorized other groups of the upper Xingu and Araguaia River Basins. They have been able to maintain and reproduce their sciences of agronomy and pedology thereby providing hints of forms of intensive agriculture which might have permitted the growth of larger regional populations. This study addresses two theoretical issues in current Amazonian anthropology: the soil limitation hypothesis in its various incarnations (Gross 1983; Meggers 1957, 1971; Roosevelt 1980), and the significance of concentric ring agriculture (Beckerman 1984; Stocks 1983) which is found in several Amazonian groups (Candoshi, Bari, various Jê groups such as the Kreen Akrore, Xikrin, Mekronotí and Kayapó among others). The data we present are preliminary, and at this stage we make no final claims, but suggest that the topic of indigenous soil management can recast the substance of these debates. Soil limitation hypothesis The limitations of soil fertility on crop productivity and agricultural potential have been used in the anthropological literature to argue that in pre-Columbian Amazonia there were low human population densities in the uplands, and to explain a variety of social and cultural features of some Amazon populations (Carneiro 1970), ranging from trekking, migration dynamics and particular rituals, to the absence of complex states (cf. Gross 1975, 1983; Meggers 1957, 1971; Roosevelt 1980). The evidence of large populations, complex social organization

166


and large chiefdoms indicated by the riverine Santarém and Marajó cultures are explained by Meggers as an outcome of Andean migration rather than the result of a flourishing local culture. Roosevelt’s (1980) work incorporates several points of Meggers’s analysis (1957), but argues that on the floodplains, complex cultures were not the result of Andean migrations, but developed in response to better soils. The decisive feature for cultural development was that the relatively nutrient rich várzea (floodplain) soil permitted the cultivation of maize, a far more nutritionally complete (and storable) foodstuff than upland staples. The types of surpluses that could be produced in the floodplain environment with intensive maize cultivation, and the structural and managerial complexity necessary to organize, store and distribute the harvest, allowed the development of complex societies based in the várzeas with hegemony or tribute exaction over upland hinterland areas. Roosevelt’s hypothesis remains essentially an environmental determinist position (or at least an environmental possibilist one, viz. Ellen 1983). Her model, however, underestimates the agricultural potential of the uplands by oversimplifying the nature of the agricultural base of Amazonian upland environments, and ignoring the diversity of agriculture, cultivars and agricultural techniques which may have been able to support far larger populations. It assumes, like virtually all other environmental models, that soils are static, immutable features of nature, instead of highly malleable ecosystem attributes. Whether upland populations were as depauperate as Meggers (1957) and others claim (cf. Chagnon 1973; Chagnon and Hames 1979; Gross 1975, 1982) is the subject of some debate (cf. Bamberger 1979; Beckerman 1979; Denevan 1976). Recent studies of subsistence patterns of upland non-native and indigenous populations (cf. Almeida 1988; Anderson and Anderson 1983; Denevan et al. 1984; Posey 1984a, 1985c; Schwartzman 1988) and ethnohistorical data, suggest that indigenous populations could have been far larger than original estimates. In the terra firme of the Upper Amazon, the Jivaraon uprising in 1599 talks of the mobilization of more than 25,000 warriors (Harner 1984). In the case of the Kayapó, both the chronicle records and ethnohistorical reports indicate settlements numbering in the thousands (Bamberger 1979; Coudreau 1897b). Concentric ring agriculture The rationale behind segmented planting patterns such as concentric ring swiddens has also been a subject of speculation. Stocks (1983) advanced four hypotheses to explain this agricultural architecture: 1 2 3 4

It minimized shading and thus reduced plant diseases It maximized the dispersal of a single crop to reduce pest/disease problems It located plants most vulnerable to insect predation furthest from the forest It placed the most nitrogen-demanding crops closest to nutrients in leaf fall from the surrounding forest.

Preliminary results on soil management techniques

167

Beckerman (1984), expanding from point (3), suggests that this concentric structure limits incursions of mammalian pests. We present an alternate hypothesis that argues that soil-crop management, particularly the manipulation of fertility gradients within the swidden, may be another rationale for this type of agronomic structure. Current settlement In the contemporary context, soil nutrient decline is viewed as one of the central forces behind deforestation processes. When productivity declines, both smallscale farmers and large-scale ranchers seek new areas to clear in order to maintain production (Nicolaides et al. 1985; Sanchez et al. 1982). Soil factors, and the related carrying capacity issues, are often viewed as major causes in colonist failure (Fearnside 1986, 1987; Maxwell 1982; Moran 1981a). The underlying factors pushing deforestation and colonist attrition are a good deal more complex than soil dynamics (cf. Browder 1987; Coy 1987; Hecht 1985; Hecht et al. 1988; Mahar 1979), but declines in productivity certainly contribute to land use instability. In an attempt to reduce ‘soil driven’ deforestation, national and international research organizations working in Amazonia have devoted a large proportion of their budgets to soil research as a response to the problems of maintaining soil fertility after forest has been converted to other land uses. The approach adopted by such organizations has tended to focus on the use of purchased inputs to maintain production, whilst ignoring indigenous knowledge systems.

Human agency and soil properties The human modification of the soil base of agriculture for both good and ill is a characteristic of human agricultural history. In Latin America several land techniques that have important effects on soil properties and agricultural productivity are well documented. The raised-field agriculture of Ecuador, Peru and Colombia (Denevan 1976; Erickson 1988); the chinampas of Mexico; and irrigation and terrace systems of Peru, Ecuador and Bolivia (Treacy 1988) are but a few of the larger infrastructure systems that substantially modified soil bases for local production systems. These kinds of agricultural infrastructures have often persisted long after the cultures that produced them disappeared. These structures were physical, and have analogues in our own cultures. They have been far more visible to researchers than ‘soft technologies’ such as mulching systems, successional manipulations, soil protection and tillage practices, and burning techniques which were incorporated into indigenous agricultural systems. These techniques, along with the genetic materials of the cultivars, the knowledge of how they are integrated into agricultural systems, and their effect on local environments, constitute an agronomic ‘tool kit’ whose subtler aspects have often been overlooked by many agricultural analysts. The relative ‘invisibility’ of such agricultural technologies

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should not cloud the recognition of their sophistication, or their importance in maintaining and sustaining agricultural systems. The preliminary results we present in this chapter indicate that land manipulation by the Kayapó is far more complex than has been generally recognized in the literature. This is expressed in the types of soil manipulation practised, and their outcomes on soil properties. We feel that indigenous soil management is an under-researched area with enormous implications for understanding native Amazonian settlement and for developing stable land-use systems for the region. Ethnopedology Researchers in ethnobiology have demonstrated that indigenous and traditional communities possess an impressively comprehensive, and scientifically accurate knowledge of their environments (Alcorn 1983; Berlin and Berlin 1983; Berlin et al. 1974; Conklin 1957; Moran 1981a; Posey 1984a, 1985c). Systematic emic analysis of soils or ethnopedology remains extraordinarily under-represented in studies of indigenous science, which is rather surprising given the central role of soil resources in subsistence. Amazonian research reflects this general deficiency although there are several studies that incorporate useful soil insights (Behrens 1988; Flowers et al. 1982; Gross 1983; Hill and Moran 1983; Johnson 1983; Moran 1981a). This oversight is all the more curious in that edaphic data is a powerful tool, and the results, if used carefully, can generate powerful comparative analyses because: 1 2 3

Soil properties can be more precisely specified than vegetation processes Edaphic data from one site can illuminate the probabilities of land-use outcomes on other sites Soil data are useful instruments for evaluating the effects of land management over time.

In the following section we outline some features of Kayapó subsistence and land management that illustrate the importance of human intervention in manipulating soil fertility for agriculture in upland Amazonia. The changes we document suggest that the soil limitation hypothesis and explanations of concentric ring agriculture can be usefully informed by analysis of indigenous soil management techniques. Moreover, these results suggest that the principles of Kayapó soil management could provide useful directions for management techniques of value for small farmers.

The Kayapó: site and subsistence The Gorotire Kayapó inhabit a region in southern Pará on the Rio Fresco that is both vegetationally and geologically heterogeneous. The Kayapó have well-developed land differentiation systems based on general geomorphic, soil and


169

vegetational features, although vegetation is usually the main topic. Table 15.1 outlines the regional diversity of vegetation formations, and the Kayapó classification. These include discrimination of eight forest types, eight cerrado types, lowland and montane formations, and the transitions between these formations. The Gorotire Reserve falls within the Grande Carajas formation, and includes geologic materials of acid (granites, andesites and rhyolites) and basaltic origins. The complex geomorphology and relief (Precambrian shield formations contacting granitic and basaltic extrusions, and recent sedimentary formations) result in a great deal of soil heterogeneity over relatively small distances. Oxisols, ultisols, alfisols, entisols and inceptisols – more than 90 per cent of the soil types found in Amazonia – are located within very short distances of each other. Entisols and inceptisols are usually associated with riparian depositional or hill erosional features, and include both high and low base status forms, depending on the parent material. High base status alfisols, the terra roxa estructurada soils, are found in the reserve. The red oxisols of the area (orthoxes) or latosolos vermelhos of the Brazilian classification system, are often transitional between the alfisols and other ultisol and oxisol formations. The red oxisols appear to be derived from the Uatuma volcanic material of

Table 15.1 Kayapó natural vegetation classification Forest – Bà Bà-kumrenx Bà-epti Bà-katí Bà-ràràra Bà-krêtí Bà-kam Bà-tyk Bà-kot

‘True’ forest Liana forest High forest Forest in which light penetrates to the ground Forest gaps Gallery forest High dark forest Forest transition zone Grassland – Campo

Kapôt kêin Kapôt kumrenx Kapôt mêtx Kapôt punu Kapôt jajôre Kapôt imôk krê pôk re Kapôt kam imo Kapôt imo noi pok Kapôt no kra Kapôt krã nhi môk

Open campo with few trees Open campo with numerous forest patches Low grassy campo Closed scrubby campo Open campo with small scrub patches Small open areas surrounded by scrub forest near large campos Seasonally inundated campo Campo openings on the tops of mountains Campo forest transition Campo rupestre

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the Sobreiro formation, and are of moderate fertility. Table 15.2 outlines the dominant soils of the region. Because of the varying parent materials, relief, and inundation patterns, the soil types have several textural variants and catenas. It is also for this reason that Kayapó soil taxonomy is quite detailed (see Chapter 16). This environmental background serves as the canvas on which Kayapó subsistence is painted. The Kayapó site their villages with environmental heterogeneity as an important dimension, and for both philosophical and practical reasons, prefer zones that incorporate many types of ecosystems.

Subsistence The subsistence base of the Kayapó is outlined in detail in several different sources (cf. Bamberger 1967; Kerr and Posey 1984; Posey 1983e, 1984a). Resource use and management patterns are complicated by the obligations of kin and non-kin sodalities, and mobile and sedentary forms of exploitation, of both animals and plants. The primary sources of carbohydrates in the Kayapó diet are sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas, Convolvulaceae), manioc (Manihot esculenta Kranz., Euphorbiaceae), yams (Dioscorea, Dioscoreaceae) and various Musa species (Musaceae). The Kayapó protein resources include fish, mammals, insects, reptiles, amphibians, birds, brazil nuts (Bertholletia excelsa, Lecythidaceae), piquí nuts (Caryocar villosum, Caryocaraceae), palm fruits (such as Orbignya phalerata, Palmae), and a variety of minor extractive products, as well as maize and vegetable protein derived from various legumes in the cultivation systems.

Table 15.2 Dominant soil orders of the study area USDA classification

Brazilian classification

Oxisols Haplorthoxes Eutrothox Ultisols Hapudults

Latosolo vermelho Latosol vermelho distrofico Latosol vermelho Podzolico vermelho-amarelo Podzolicos vermelho-amarelo distrofico (argilloso) Podzolicos vermelho-amarelo alico (cascalhente) Terra roxa estructurada distrofico Terra roxa estructurada eutrofico Cambisol distrofico Solos alluviais Glei pouco humico, Solos alluviais (distrofico. eutrofico)

Plinthudults Transition ultisols Alfisols (paleudalfs, hapudalfs) Inceptisols (dystropepts, humaquents) Entisols Tropaquents

Source: Field data, Sudam 1979. Reconhecimento Pedologica na Area do São Felix.


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Table 15.3 outlines the activities that the Kayapó classify as agriculture, and which involve conscious manipulation of the flora for human purposes. These activities represent a gradient of intervention from total ecosystem transformation, which occurs in the swidden plot, to transplanting or planting in existing vegetation formations, to merely protecting spontaneous, valuable species via weeding, etc. This gradient of manipulation is well documented for Amazonian caboclos at the mouth of the estuary, and for other indigenous groups (Alcorn 1983). These planting processes can also involve soil manipulation. This diversity of agricultural systems relates to the requirements of a society that has members periodically absent from the swidden gardens, and where, for the convenience of trekkers, hunters and travelling war parties, plantings and vegetational manipulation are carried out at distances (sometimes 100 kilometres or more) from the village to supply medicinals, oils, protein, calories, poisons and ritual plants. Since treks can last for weeks and months, carrying root crops or manioc cakes is not feasible. Far more efficient is ‘ground’ and ‘environmental’ storage. How far flung Kayapó plantings can be is suggested by Werner’s (1983) report that the Mekronotí (Kayapó) frequently raided distant Kayapó plantings for root crops. The nearest Kayapó village in this case was about 150 kilometres away. Moreover, the Gorotire Kayapó themselves report transferring planting material in an area roughly the size of Western Europe (Posey 1985c). The trekking pattern of the Kayapó has several consequences for the structure of agriculture and resource management. Because men are often periodically absent, ‘nomadic agriculture’ plantings, such as those along trails, in forest gaps, and resource islands, are more likely to be under their aegis, and to be characterized by plantings with long harvest times – such as the starch, kupa (Cissus gongylodes, Vitaceae), or brazil nuts – or species with game-attracting qualities. Other groups of plants are associated with certain age cohorts, kin groups and nonTable 15.3 Agriculture formations of the Kayapó Village gardens

Forest planting

1 2 3 4 5

10 Natural ecosystem gaps (bà-krêti) 11 Manmade gaps 12 Plantations in mature forest (viz. Euterpe, Bertholletia)

Household gardens Swidden plots (puru) Successional plots from swiddens Grave sites Marantaceae gardens on hill slopes (krãi kam puru)

‘Nomadic agriculture’ 6 7 8 9

13 Fruit groves ‘in memory of the dead’ Cerrado planting

Trails between villages and gardens 14 Medicinal, fibre, edible, and varied useful plants in apêtês (forest patches in the savanna Trails between villages and grass lands) Hunting/trekking trails Planting around old camp sites

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kin sodalities, so vegetation management requires a more detailed analysis than can be presented here (Anderson and Posey 1989; Appendix, this volume). ‘Ownership’ of agricultural land follows female lines because the women often stay in the village whilst the men are on trek, and there is a rich women’s tradition in the ‘classic’ agronomic disciplines: plant breeding, plant protection, propagation, agricultural management, soil science, and specialized horticultural systems such as the Marantaceae gardens (krãi kam puru). The agriculture of the Kayapó is based on: sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas) of which they have 22 cultivars; manioc, both sweet and bitter (Manihot esculenta Kranz.) of which at least 22 cultivars have been described (Kerr and Posey 1984); some 21 cultivars of yam (Dioscorea sp.); 21 varieties of maize; and 13 types of Musa sp. The Kayapó also plant pineapples (three types), squashes (eight types), cotton, arrowroot, rice, two varieties of fava bean (Vicia faba, Leguminosae), four varieties of Phaseolus sp. (Leguminosae), two types of bush bean (Vigna sp., Leguminosae), three kinds of tobacco, four varieties of papaya (Carica, Caricaceae), and three types of peanuts (Arachis, Leguminosae). At least 46 types of fruit and nut trees are planted. These have specific planting ‘niches’ and are generally planted in the successional agriculture (ibe), along trails (pry), in home gardens (ki krê bum), in the forest (bà), in forest gaps (bà kre-tí), or in various savanna sites (apêtê). Because of the complexity of Kayapó agricultural systems, this chapter concentrates primarily on Kayapó soil management in the swidden plot through the manipulation of site fertility and planting strategy.

Soil fertility management In much of the literature on indigenous Amazonian swiddens, one has the impression that soil properties remain static, however soils are extremely malleable features of ecosystems. Soil characteristics can be modified through management, and these manipulations affect crop productivity and the overall sustainability of production systems. In this section we outline how the Kayapó manipulate and modify soil properties by burning, mulching, direct nutrient additions and fallowing. These management techniques create a pattern of soil microdiversity that is an important factor in Kayapó cropping patterns both in space and time. The foremost tool used by the Kayapó for modifying soil properties is fire. They use fire in a variety of ways ranging from burning savanna, forming the swidden plot, and as a means of soil management within the swidden plot. This ‘in-field burning’ involves setting small localized fires in the swidden plot throughout the cultivation cycle for roughly the first three years of agricultural production. The control of the biomass volume, seasonal timing, diurnal timing, and temperature of the burn can be manipulated, and this influences the solubility, quantity, and timing and quantity of nutrient release. The species burned can further affect fertility characteristics. How important ash is to the range of land-management techniques is suggested by the numerous linguistic descriptors that exist for ash, as well as the large body of songs pertaining to burning. Ash


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also has important ritual and medicinal functions, and there are shamans who specialize in burning methods. While burning is a critical factor in creating in-field microdiversity within Kayapó swidden fields, mulching is also an important activity in crop-soil management. Favoured mulches include the leaves of the inaja palm (Maximiliana maripa Corr. Serr., Palmae), banana leaves, urucu husks (Bixa orellana L., Bixaceae), and some crop residues such as rice straw, bean vines, sweet potato vines and chopped weeds. Some of the mulch materials, mainly the crop residues, are derived from the agricultural field itself. The larger-leaved mulches, such as the palm fronds and banana leaves, often come from outside the field representing a net nutrient input which can compensate for, or exceed, nutrients lost when crops are consumed away from the garden. Mulches protect the soil from raindrop compaction, reduce weed germination, reduce soil temperatures and provide a slow release of nutrients. Direct nutrient additions applied to particular crops, or mixed into the planting medium of particular trees, are also used by the Kayapó. These direct nutrient additions tend to be applied to longer-lived species, such as the various Musa, long-lived yams, Marantaceae, urucu, genipap (Genipa americana, Rubiaceae), pineapple (Ananas sp., Bromeliaceae), and other minor crops that are planted at the perimeter of the swidden garden. The sources of nutrients range from ashes of particular species to plants, termite nests, bones, Azteca ant nests and shredded leaf mulches. Table 15.4 shows the chemical content of the more common additions. The manipulation of fallows by indigenous groups is well documented (Alcorn 1983; Denevan et al. 1984). This manipulation includes the addition of perennial Table 15.4 Fertility elements of planting additions used by the Kayapó

Maximiliana ash Maximiliana ash Maximiliana ash Ki (field hearths) Ki (field hearths) Ken po ti ash (ash from ritual rock outcrop) Mrum kra ti* Rorot tyk+ Rorot tyk+ Rorot tyk+ Planting mix apêtêo

pH

OM (%) N (%)

P (ppm) K (ppm) Ca (meq/ 100 g)

Mg (meq/ 100 g)

10.20 10.48 7.00 11.10 10.68 7.85 10.52 4.90 4.80 5.90 5.25 5.50

4.39 6.23 13.84 1.04 5.91 – – 0.48 n.d. 11.43 9.38 14.56

163 560 543 547 428 80 52

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