Майн Рид
Odd People: Being a Popular Description of Singular Races of Man

The tatoo, with a few strings of shell-beads or necklaces, and bracelets of monkey and jaguar teeth, is all the dress which is permitted to the Mundrucu belle. In Mundrucu-land it is the reverse of what is practised among civilised people: the men are the exponents of the fashions, and keep exclusively to themselves the cosmetics and bijouterie. Not contented with being tatooed, these also paint their bodies, by way of “overcoat,” and also adorn themselves with the bright feathers of birds. They wear on their heads the beautiful circlet of macaw-plumes, and on grand occasions appear in the magnificent “feather dress,” so long celebrated as the peculiar costume of the tropical-forest Indian. These dresses their women weave and border, at a sacrifice of much tedious labour. They also ornament their arms and legs with rows of feathers around them, the tips turned upward and backward.

The tatooing is confined to the Mundrucus proper, – their allies, the Mahües not following the practice, but contenting themselves with a simple “coat” of paint.

It is difficult to say what motive first inducted human beings into this singular and barbarous custom. It is easier to tell why it is still followed, and the “why” is answered by saying that the Mundrucus “scarify” themselves, because their fathers did so before them. Many a custom among civilised nations, but little less ridiculous, if we could only think so, rests upon a similar basis. Perhaps our modern abominable hat – though it has a different origin – is not less ludicrous than the tatooed patterns of the savage. Certainly it is quite equal to it in ugliness, and is likely to rival it in permanence, – to our sorrow be it said. But even we deal slightly in the tatoo. Our jolly Jack would be nobody in the forecastle without “Polly,” in blue, upon his weather-beaten breast, and the foul anchor upon his arm.

But the Mundrucu baptises his unfortunate offspring in a still more savage fashion. The tattoo may be termed the baptism in blood, performed at the tender age of ten. When the youth – fortunately it does not extend to the weaker sex – has attained to the age of eighteen, he has then to undergo the tocandeira, which deserves to be called the baptism of fire!

This too merits description. When the Mundrucu youth would become a candidate for manhood, a pair of “gloves” is prepared for him. These consist of two pieces of a palm-tree bark, with the pith hollowed out, but left in at one end. The hollow part is of sufficient diameter to draw over the hands loosely, and so long as to reach up to mid-arm, after the fashion of gauntlets.

The “gloves” being got ready, are nearly filled with ants, not only the venomous red ants, but all other species, large or small, that can either bite or sting, of which tropical South America possesses an endless variety. With this “lining” the “mittens” are ready for use, and the “novice” is compelled to draw them on. Should he refuse, or even exhibit a disposition to shrink from the fiery trial, he is a lost man. From that hour he need never hold up his head, much less offer his hand and heart, for there is not a maiden in all Mundrucu-land that would listen to his softest speech. He is forever debarred from the pleasure of becoming a benedict. Of course he does not refuse, but plunging his hands into the “mittens,” into the very midst of the crawling host, he sets about the ceremony.

He must keep on the gloves till he has danced before every door in the village. He must sing as if from very joy; and there is plenty of music to accompany him, drums and fifes, and human voices, – for his parents and relatives are by his side encouraging him with their songs and gestures. He is in pain, – in positive agony, – for these venomous ants both sting and bite, and have been busy at both from the very first moment. Each moment his agony grows more intense, his sufferings more acute, for the poison is thrilling through his veins, – he turns pale, – his eyes become blood-cast, – his breast quivers with emotion and his limbs tremble beneath him; but despite all this, woe to him if he utter a cry of weakness! It would brand him with an eternal stigma, – he would never be suffered to carry the Mundrucu lance to battle, – to poise upon its point the ghastly trophy of the Beheaders. On, on, through the howling throng, amidst friends and relatives with faces anxious as his own; on to the sound of the shrill-piping reed and the hoarse booming of the Indian drum; on till he stands in front of the cabin of the chief! There again the song is sung, the “jig” is danced, both proudly prolonged till the strength of the performer becomes completely exhausted. Then, and not till then, the gloves are thrown aside, and the wearer falls back, into the arms of his friends, “sufficiently punished!”

This is the hour of congratulation. Girls gather round him, and fling their tatooed arms about his neck. They cluster and cling upon him, singing his song of triumph; but just at that crisis he is not in the mood for soft caresses; and, escaping from their blandishments, he makes a rush towards the river. On reaching its bank he plunges bodily in, and there remains up to his neck in the water, till the cooling fluid has to some extent eased his aching arms, and tranquillised the current of his boiling blood. When he emerges from the water, he is a man, fit stuff for a Mundrucu warrior, and eligible to the hand of a Mundrucu maiden.

It may be remarked that this terrible ordeal of the Mundrucus, though, perhaps, peculiar among South-American Indians, has its parallel among certain tribes of the north, – the Mandans and others, as detailed by Catlin, one of the most acute of ethnological observers.

The scalp trophy, too, of the Northern Indian has its analogy in a Mundrucu custom – that which distinguishes him most of all, and which has won for him the terrible title of “Beheader.”

This singular appellation is now to be explained.

When a Mundrucu has succeeded in killing an enemy, he is not, like his northern compeer, satisfied with only the skin of the head. He must have the whole head, scalp and skull, bones, brains, and all! And he takes all, severing the head with his knife by a clean cut across the small of the neck, and leaving the trunk to the vulture king. With the ghastly trophy poised upon the point of his lance, he returns triumphant to the malocca to receive the greetings of his tribe and the praises of his chief.

But the warlike exploit requires a memento – some token by which he may perpetuate its fame. The art of printing does not exist among the Mundrucus, and there is no friendly pen to record the deed. It has been done, – behold the evidence! much clearer than often accompanies the exploits of civilised heroes. There is the evidence of an enemy slain; there is the grim, gory voucher, palpable both to sight and touch – proof positive that there is a dead body somewhere.

Of course, such evidence is sufficient for the present; but how about the future? As time passes, the feat may be forgotten, as great deeds are elsewhere. Somebody may even deny it. Some slanderous tongue may whisper, or insinuate, or openly declare that it was no exploit after all – that there was no dead man; for the vultures by this time would have removed the body, and the white ants (termites) would have equally extinguished all traces of the bones. How, then, are the proofs to be preserved? By preserving the head! And this is the very idea that is in the mind of the Mundrucu warrior. He is resolved not to permit his exploit to be buried in oblivion by burying the head of his enemy. That tongue, though mute, will tell the tale to posterity; that pallid cheek, though, perhaps, it may become a little shrivelled in the “drying,” will still be smooth enough to show that there is no tatoo, and to be identified as the skin of an enemy. Some young Mundrucu, yet unborn, will read in the countenance of that grinning and gory witness, the testimony of his father’s prowess. The head, therefore, must be preserved; and it is preserved with as much care as the cherished portrait of a famous ancestor. The cranial relic is even embalmed, as if out of affection for him to whom it belonged. The brains and eye-balls are removed, to facilitate the process of desiccation; but false eyes are inserted, and the tongue, teeth, and ears, scalp, skull, and hair, are all retained, not only retained, but “titivated” out in the most approved style of fashion. The long hair is carefully combed out, parted, and arranged; brilliant feathers of rock-cock and macaw are planted behind the ears and twisted in the hanging tresses. An ornamental string passes through the tongue, and by this the trophy is suspended from the beams of the great malocca.

It is not permitted to remain there. In some dark niche of this Golgotha – this Mundruquin Westminster – it might be overlooked and forgotten. To prevent this it is often brought forth, and receives many an airing. On all warlike and festive occasions does it appear, poised upon the point of the warrior’s lance; and even in peaceful times it may be seen – along with hundreds of its like – placed in the circular row around the manioc clearing, and lending its demure countenance to the labours of the field.

It is not a little singular that this custom of embalming the heads of their enemies is found among the Dyaks of Borneo, and the process in both places is ludicrously similar. Another rare coincidence occurs between the Amazonian tribes and the Bornean savages, viz in both being provided with the blow-gun. The gravitana of the American tribes is almost identical with the sumpitan of Borneo. It furnishes a further proof of our theory regarding an original connection between the American Indians and the savages of the great South Sea.

The Mundrucu is rarely ill off in the way of food. When he is so, it is altogether his own fault, and chargeable to his indolent disposition. The soil of his territory is of the most fertile kind, and produces many kinds of edible fruits spontaneously, as the nuts of the pupunha palm and the splendid fruits of the Bertholetia excelsa, or juvia-tree, known in Europe as “Brazil-nuts.” Of these then are two kinds, as mentioned elsewhere, the second being a tree of the genus Lecythys, – the Lecythys ollaria, or “monkey-pot” tree. It obtains this trivial name from the circumstance, first, of its great pericarp, almost as large as a child’s head, having a movable top or lid, which falls off when the fruit ripens; and secondly, from the monkeys being often seen drawing the seeds or nuts out of that part of the shell which remains attached to the tree, and which, bearing a considerable resemblance to a pot in its shape, is thus very appropriately designated the pot of the monkeys. The common Indian name of the monkey-pot tree is sapuçaia, and the nuts of this species are so called in commerce, though they are also termed Brazil-nuts. They are of a more agreeable flavour than the true Brazil-nuts, and not so easily obtained, as the Lecythys is less generally distributed over the Amazonian valley. It requires a peculiar soil, and grows only in those tracts that are subject to the annual inundations of the rivers.

The true Brazil-nuts are the “juvia” trees of the Indians; and the season for collecting them is one of the harvests of the Mundrucu people. The great pericarps – resembling large cocoa-nuts when stripped of the fibres – do not open and shed their seeds, as is the case with the monkey-pot tree. The whole fruit falls at once; and as it is very heavy, and the branches on which it grows are often nearly a hundred feet from the ground, it may easily be imagined that it comes down like a ten-pound shot; in fact, one of them falling upon the head of a Mundrucu would be very likely to crush his cranium, as a bullet would an egg-shell; and such accidents not unfrequently occur to persons passing imprudently under the branches of the Bertholetia when its nuts are ripe. Sometimes the monkeys, when on the ground looking after those that have fallen, become victims to the like accident; but these creatures are cunning reasoners, and being by experience aware of the danger, will scarce ever go under a juvia-tree, but when passing one always make a wide circuit around it. The monkeys cannot of themselves open the great pericarp, as they do that of the “sapuçaia,” but are crafty enough to get at the precious contents, notwithstanding. In doing this they avail themselves of the help of other creatures, that have also a motive in opening the juvia shells – cavies and other small rodent animals, whose teeth, formed for this very purpose, enable them to gnaw a hole in the ligneous pericarps, hard and thick as they are. Meanwhile the monkeys, squatted around, watch the operation in a careless, nonchalant sort of way, as if they had no concern whatever in the result; but as soon as they perceive that an entrance has been effected, big enough to admit their hand, they rush forward, drive off the weaker creature, who has been so long and laboriously at work, and take possession of the prize.

Neither does the Mundrucu nut-gatherer get possession of the juvia fruit without a certain degree of danger and toil. He has to climb the tallest trees, to secure the whole crop at one time; and while engaged in collecting those upon the ground, he is in danger of a blow from odd ones that are constantly falling. To secure his skull against accidents, he wears upon his head a thick wooden cap or helmet, – after the fashion of the hats worn by our firemen, – and he is always careful to keep his body in an upright attitude, stooping as seldom as he can avoid doing so, lest he might get a thump between the shoulders, or upon the spine of his back, which would be very likely to flatten him out upon the earth. These Brazil-nuts furnish the Mundrucu with a portion of his food, – as they also do many other tribes of Amazonian Indians, – and they are also an item of Indian commerce, being collected from among the different tribes by the Portuguese and Spanish traders.

But the Mundrucu does not depend altogether on the spontaneous productions of the forest, which at best furnish only a precarious supply. He does something in the agricultural line, – cultivating a little manioc root, with, plantains, yams, and other tropical plants that produce an enormous yield with the very slightest trouble or attention; and this is exactly what suits him. A few days spent by the little community in the yam patch – or rather, by the women and children, for these are the agricultural labourers in Mundrucu-land – is sufficient to ensure an abundant supply of bread-stuff for the whole year. With regard to flesh-meat he is not so well off, for the domestic animals, and oxen more especially, do not thrive in the Amazon country. In Mundrucu-land, the carnivorous jaguar, aided by flies and vampire bats, would soon destroy them, even if the Indian had the inclination to raise them, which he has not.

Instead of beef, therefore, he contents himself with fish, and occasionally a steak from the great tapir, or a griskin of manati. Birds, too, furnish him with an occasional meal; but the staple article of his flesh diet is obtained from the quadrumana, – the numerous species of monkeys with which his forests abound. These he obtains by shooting them down from the trees with his bow and arrows, and also by various other hunting devices.

His mode of cooking them is sufficiently peculiar to be described. A large log fire is first kindled and permitted to burn until a sufficient quantity of red cinders are produced. Over these cinders a grating is erected with green saplings of wood, laid parallel to each other like the bars of a gridiron, and upon this the “joint” is laid.

Nothing is done to the monkey before its being placed on the gridiron. Its skin is not removed, and even the intestines are not always taken out. The fire will singe off the hair sufficiently to content a Mundrucu stomach, and the hide is broiled and eaten, with the flesh. It is thus literally “carne con cuero.”

It may be observed that this forest gridiron, or “barbecue,” as it is properly termed, is not an idea exclusively confined to South America. It is in use among the Indians of the north, and various uncivilised tribes in other parts of the world.

Sometimes the Mundrucu does not take the trouble to construct the gridiron. When on the march in some warlike expedition that will not allow time for being particular about the mode of cooking, the joint is broiled upon a spit over the common fire. The spit is simply a stick, sharpened at both ends, one of which impales the monkey, and the other is stuck into the ground. The stick is then set with a lean towards the fire, so as to bring the carcass over the blaze. While on the spit the monkey appears in a sitting position, with its head upward, and its long tail hanging along the sapling, – just as if it were still living, and in one of its most natural attitudes, clinging to the branch of a tree! The sight is sufficiently comical; but sometimes a painful spectacle has been witnessed, – painful to any one but a savage: when the young of the monkey has been captured along with its dam, and still recognising the form of its parent, – even when all the hair has been singed off, and the skin has become calcined by the fire, – is seen rushing forward into the very flames, and with plaintive cry inviting the maternal embrace! Such an affecting incident has been often witnessed amid the forests of Amazopia.

We conclude our sketch of the Mundrucus, by stating that their form of government is despotic, though not to an extreme degree. The “tushao,” or chief, has considerable power, though it is not absolute, and does not extend to the taking of life, – unless the object of displeasure be a slave, and many of these are held in abject bondage among the Mundrucus.

The Mundrucu religion resembles that of many other tribes both in North and South America. It consists in absurd ceremonies, and appeals to the good and evil spirits of the other world, and is mixed up with a vast deal of quackery in relation to the ills that afflict the Mundrucu in this life. In other words, it is a combination of the priest and doctor united in one, that arch-charlatan known to the North-American Indians as the “Medicine-man,” and among the Mundrucus as the “Puge.”

Chapter Six.
The Centaurs of the “Gran Chaco.”

I have elsewhere stated that a broad band of independent Indian territory – that is, territory never really subdued or possessed by the Spaniards – traverses the interior of South America, extending longitudinally throughout the whole continent. Beginning at Cape Horn, it ends in the peninsula of the free Goajiros, which projects into the Caribbean Sea, – in other words, it is nearly 5,000 miles in length. In breadth it varies much. In Patagonia and a portion of the Pampas country it extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and it is of still wider extent on the latitude of the Amazon river, where the whole country, from the Atlantic to the Peruvian Andes, – with the exception of some thinly-placed Brazilian settlements, – is occupied by tribes of independent Indians. At either point this territory will appear – upon maps – to be interrupted by tracts of country possessing civilised settlements. The names of towns and villages are set as thickly as if the country were well peopled; and numerous roads are traced, forming a labyrinthine network upon the paper. A broad belt of this kind extends from the Lower Parana (La Plate) to the Andes of Chili, constituting the upper provinces of the “Argentine Confederation;” another apparently joins the settlements of Bolivia and Brazil; and again in the north, the provinces of Venezuela appear to be united to those of New Granada.

All this, however, is more apparent than real. The towns upon the maps are in general mere rancherias, or collections of huts; some of them are the names of fortified posts, and a large proportion are but ruins, – the ruins of monkish mission settlements long since gone to destruction, and with little else than the name on the map to testify that they ever had an existence. The roads are no roads at all, nothing more than tracings on the chart showing the general route of travel.

Even across the Argentine provinces – where this nomenclature appears thickest upon the map – the horse Indian of the Pampas extends his forays at will; his “range” meeting, and, in some cases, “dovetailing” into that of the tribes dwelling upon the northern side of these settlements. The latter, in their turn, carry their plundering expeditions across to the Campos Parexis, on the headwaters of the Amazon, whence stretches the independent territory, far and wide to the Amazon itself; thence to the Orinoco, and across the Llanos to the shores of the Maracaibo Gulf – the free range of the independent Goajiros.

This immense belt of territory, then, is in actual possession of the aborigines. Although occupied at a few points by the white race, – Spanish and Portuguese, – the occupation scarce deserves the name. The settlements are sparse and rather retrograde than progressive. The Indian ranges through and around them, wherever and whenever his inclination leads him; and only when some humiliating treaty has secured him a temporary respite from hostilities does the colonist enjoy tranquillity. At other times he lives in continual dread, scarce daring to trust himself beyond the immediate vicinity of his house or village, both of which he has been under the necessity of fortifying.

It is true that at one period of South-American history things were not quite so bad. When the Spanish nation was at the zenith of its power a different condition existed; but even then, in the territory indicated, there were large tracts circumstanced just as at the present hour, – tracts which the Spaniards, with all their boasted warlike strength, were unable even to explore, much less to subdue. One of these was that which forms the subject of our sketch, “El Gran Chaco.”

Of all the tracts of wild territory existing in South America, and known by the different appellations of Pampas, Paramos, Campos Parexis, the Puna, the Pajonal, Llanos, and Montanas, there is none possessed of a greater interest than that of El Gran Chaco, – perhaps not one that equals it in this respect. It is interesting, not only from having a peculiar soil, climate, and productions, but quite as much from the character and history of its inhabitants, both of which present us with traits and episodes truly romantic.

The “Gran Chaco” is 200,000 square miles in extent, or twice the size of the British Isles. Its eastern boundary is well-defined, being the Paraguay river, and its continuation the Parana, down to the point where the latter receives one of its great western tributaries, the Salado; and this last is usually regarded as the southern and western boundary of the Chaco. Northward its limits are scarcely so definite; though the highlands of Bolivia and the old missionary province of Chiquitos, forming the water-shed between the rivers of the La Plata and the Amazonian basins – may be geographically regarded as the termination of the Chaco in that direction. North and south it extends through eleven degrees of latitude; east and west it is of unequal breadth, – sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting, according to the ability of the white settlers along it borders to maintain their frontier. On its eastern side, as already stated, the frontier is definite, and terminates on the banks of the Paraguay and Parana. East of this line – coinciding almost with a meridian of longitude – the Indian of the Gran Chaco does not roam, the well-settled province of Corrientes and the dictatorial government of Paraguay presenting a firmer front of resistance; but neither does the colonist of these countries think of crossing to the western bank of the boundary river to form any establishment there. He dares not even set his foot upon the territory of the Chaco. For a thousand miles, up and down, the two races, European and American, hold the opposite banks of this great stream. They gaze across at each other: the one from the portico of his well-built mansion, or perhaps from the street of his town; the other, standing by his humble “toldo,” or mat-covered tent, – more probably, upon the back of his half-wild horse, reined up for a moment on some projecting promontory that commands the view of the river. And thus have these two races gazed at each other for three centuries, with little other intercourse passing between them than that of a deadly hostility.

The surface of the Gran Chaco is throughout of a champaign character. It may be described as a vast plain. It is not, however, a continuation of the Pampas, since the two are separated by a more broken tract of country, in which lie the sierras of Cordova and San Luis, with the Argentine settlements already mentioned. Besides, the two great plains differ essentially in their character, even to a greater extent than do the Pampas themselves from the desert steppes of Patagonia. Only a few of the animal and vegetable productions of the Gran Chaco are identical with those of the Pampas, and its Indian inhabitants are altogether unlike the sanguinary savages of the more southern plain. The Chaco, approaching many degrees nearer to the equator, is more tropical in its character; in fact, the northern portion of it is truly so, lying as it does within the torrid zone, and presenting the aspect of a tropical vegetation. Every inch of the Chaco is within the palm region; but in its northern half these beautiful trees abound in numberless species, yet unknown to the botanist, and forming the characteristic features of the landscape. Some grow in forests of many miles in extent, others only in “clumps,” with open, grass-covered plains between, while still other species mingle their graceful fronds with the leaves and branches of dicotyledonous trees, or clasped in the embrace of luxuriant llianas and parasitical climbers form groves of the most variegated verdure and fantastic outlines. With such groves the whole surface of the Chaco country is enamelled; the intervals between being occupied by plains of rich waving grass, now and then tracts of morass covered with tall and elegant reeds, a few arid spots bristling with singular forms of algarobia and cactus, and, in some places, isolated rocky mounds, of dome or conical shape, rising above the general level of the plains, as if intended to be used as watch-towers for their guardianship and safety.

Such are the landscapes which the Grand Chaco presents to the eye – far different from the bald and uniform monotony exhibited in the aspect of either Prairie or Pampa; far grander and lovelier than either – in point of scenic loveliness, perhaps, unequalled on earth. No wonder, then, that the Indian of South America esteems it as an earthly Elysium; no wonder that the Spaniard dreams of it as such, – though to the Spanish priest and the Spanish soldier it has ever proved more of a Purgatory than a Paradise. Both have entered upon its borders, but neither has been able to dwell within its domain; and the attempts at its conquest, by sword and cross, have been alike unsuccessful, – equally and fatally repulsed, throughout a period of more than three hundred years. At this hour, as at the time of the Peruvian conquest, – as on the day when the ships of Mendoza sailed up the waters of the Parana, – the Gran Chaco is an unconquered country, owned by its aboriginal inhabitants, and by them alone. It is true that it is claimed, both by Spaniard and Portuguese; and by no less than four separate claimants belonging to these two nationalities. Brazil and Bolivia, Paraguay and the Argentine Confederation, all assert their title to a slice of this earthly paradise; and even quarrel as to how their boundary lines should intersect it!

There is something extremely ludicrous in these claims, – since neither one nor other of the four powers can show the slightest basis for them. Not one of them can pretend to the claim of conquest; and far less can they rest their rights upon the basis of occupation or possession. So far from possessing the land, not one of them dare set foot over its borders; and they are only too well pleased if its present occupants are contented to remain within them. The claim, therefore, of both Spaniard and Portuguese, has no higher title, than that some three hundred and fifty years ago it was given them by the Pope, – a title not less ludicrous than their kissing the Pope’s toe to obtain it!

In the midst of these four conflicting claimants, there appears a fifth, and that is the real owner, – the “red Indian” himself. His claim has “three points of the law” in his favour, – possession, – and perhaps the fourth, too, – the power to keep possession. At all events, he has held it for three hundred years against all odds and all comers; and who knows that he may not hold it for three hundred years more? – only, it is to be hoped, for a different use, and under the influence of a more progressive civilisation.

The Indian, then, is the undoubted lord of the “Gran Chaco.” Let us drop in upon him, and see what sort of an Indian he is, and how he manages this majestic domain.

After having feasted our eyes upon the rich scenery of the land, – upon the verdant plains, mottled with copses of “quebracho” and clumps of the Caranday palm, – upon landscapes that resemble the most lordly parks, we look around for the mansions and the owners. The mansion is not there, but the owner stands before us.

We are at once struck by his appearance: his person tall, and straight as a reed, his frame muscular, his limbs round and well-proportioned, piercing coal-black eyes, well-formed features, and slightly aquiline nose, – and perhaps we are a little surprised at the light colour of his skin. In this we note a decided peculiarity which distinguishes him from most other tribes of his race. It is not a red Indian we behold, nor yet a copper-coloured savage; but a man whose complexion is scarce darker than that of the mulatto, and not at all deeper in hue than many a Spaniard of Andalusian descent, who boasts possession of the purest “sangre azul;” not one shade darker than thousands of Portuguese dwelling upon the other side of the Brazilian frontier.