Kris Lane, College of William & Mary “Lost Colonies” Conference, March 26-27, 2004
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360 “From Gold Camp to Ghost Town: Bonanza Denied in the 16th-century Andean Piedmont” Kris Lane, College of William & Mary “Lost Colonies” Conference, March 26-27, 2004 (Please do not cite, quote, or circulate without written permission from the author) Abstract: It has been generally assumed that wherever mineral treasure was found in the Americas, permanent Spanish (or Portuguese, or other European) settlements soon followed, indigenous resistance notwithstanding. This was certainly true in a number of backcountry regions, but an important exception might be South America’s equatorial Andean piedmont, or Upper Amazonia. Here, in the eastern foothills of modern Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru, a number of early colonial gold-mining towns, some of them extraordinarily rich, were snuffed out by indigenous “rebels,” many permanently. The mines themselves had not worn out, but rather the foreign interlopers’ welcome. Bonanza was in fact so successfully denied that only recently -- with a relative rise in gold prices -- have many of these ghost town sites, and their treasures, been rediscovered. And as in colonial times, indigenous peoples are fighting back tooth and nail. “All gold is fool’s gold” -- Edward Abbey Few incidents in the early history of indigenous-European relations in South America have been as compelling, or as poorly understood, as the so-called Jívaro Revolt of 1599. According to the standard, 214-year-old account, a confederation of lowland Jivaroan peoples (the modern Shuar, Achuar, Huambisa, and Aguaruna of southeastern Ecuador and northern Peru) rose up to snuff out a series of Spanish gold camps and administrative centers after fifty years of ruthless exploitation. In the north Andean context, the contemporary Paezes and Pijaos of central New Granada, the Sindaguas of the Pacific Coast, and the Mocoas of the upper Putumayo (all in southern Colombia) rebelled in similar circumstances, but only the Jívaros completely foiled Spanish attempts at reconquest. While recognizing this unique achievement, this paper examines several potentially revealing fragments in the documentary record and reviews recent research challenging the standard account. (A substantial chunk of what follows is drawn from my book, Quito, 1599: City & Colony in Transition [University of New Mexico Press, 2002], but with different emphasis and substantial added and updated material.) 361 Michael Harner’s classic 1972 ethnography, The Jívaro: People of the Sacred Waterfalls, introduced a generation of North American anthropology students to organic hallucinogens and shamanic “journeys” in the jungles of southeastern Ecuador, for some a kind of South American complement to Carlos Castañeda’s popular Yaqui anthology. Harner’s vivid descriptions of the Untsuri šuarä shaman’s “hidden world”—not to mention an unblinking demystification of the practice of head shrinking—are still compelling after thirty-plus years, but there was also history in The Jívaro. Indeed, the introduction begins as follows: “Only one tribe of American Indians is known ever to have successfully revolted against the empire of Spain and to have thwarted all subsequent attempts by the Spaniards to reconquer them: the Jívaro…of eastern Ecuador. From 1599 onward they remained unconquered in their forest fastness east of the Andes, despite the fact that they were known to occupy one of the richest placer gold deposit regions in all of South America.”1 What an image: indigenous rebels free for centuries amidst rivers of gold! Furthermore, even casual readers tend to remember Harner’s lengthy translation of Padre Juan de Velasco’s 1790 recounting of “the great Jívaro rebellion of 1599.” This is what the Quito Jesuit had to say about the Jívaro, in summary: 1) in 1599 the corrupt governor of Macas, a small Spanish settlement in the rainforest east of Cuenca, set out to tax his subjects, claiming gold was needed to celebrate Philip III’s coronation; 2) though recognizing the injustice, the governor’s Spanish subjects and most indigenous subalterns submitted; 3) the Jívaro alone balked, but wisely followed instructions given by a cacique called Quirruba, who advised them to dampen suspicion by enthusiastically collecting gold “for the new king”; 4) when the governor visited the isolated mining town of Logroño, the Jívaros struck, massacring all but the women, who were taken as prizes, and 1 Michael J. Harner, The Jívaro: People of the Sacred Waterfalls, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984 [1972], 1. Harner wrote, he said, to correct some of the errors of Rafael Karsten’s monumental Head-Hunters of Western Amazonas: The Life and Culture of the Jibaro Indians of Eastern Ecuador and Peru (Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica, 1935). 362 the unlucky governor.2 His fate is what most readers, casual and otherwise, remember most vividly: “They stripped him completely naked, tied his hands and feet; and while some amused themselves with him, delivering a thousand castigations and jests, the others set up a large forge in the courtyard, where they melted the gold. When it was ready in the crucibles, they opened his mouth with a bone, saying that they wanted to see if for once he had enough gold. They poured it little by little, and then forced it down with another bone; and bursting his bowels with the torture, all raised a clamor and laughter.”3 Having taken their revenge on the greedy governor, the Jívaros then moved on to attack the neighboring gold camp of Sevilla de Oro. On the point of repeating their success at Logroño, Quirruba and his followers, apparently due to some disagreement with temporary allies, suddenly withdrew. According to Velasco, the few survivors of this and a series of related attacks retreated to the highlands, never to return to the golden land of the Jívaro. Today it would be considered sloppy even for a field anthropologist to rely so heavily on a two hundred year-old history written in Italy and peppered with obviously embroidered if not wholly fabricated moral tales. But Harner, like Velasco, had an eye for a good story, and the anthropologist did not want to give this one up. Desperately searching for an indigenous counterpoint to the Jesuit’s tale, Harner questioned an elderly Shuar man about past encounters with whites, hoping for a breakthrough. Only the following enigmatic fragment was proffered: “A very long time ago there were the ai apacï [“ai” white men]. They were many. They were all of bone to their elbows and to their knees. They could move their arms and legs only beyond their elbows and knees. They had shirts and pants. They were fierce and tall. There were many, many of them, and they had women and children. All were the same in not being able to move except for their forearms and lower legs. They didn’t have hats but wore something like the helmets of the [present-day Ecuadorian] soldiers. These men had machetes of iron that they used for killing. They carried their machetes on the left hip. The machetes were somewhat yellow. These machetes had handles of human bone. They said that they had killed many whites with their machetes. They also had shoes. These whites had machu…they rode on top of these. I think these must 2 Juan de Velasco, Historia Moderna del Reyno de Quito y Crónica de la Provincia de la Compañía de Jesús del mismo Reyno, tomo I: 1550-1685 (Quito: Reyes y Reyes, 1940 [1790]). 3 Harner, Jívaro, 21. 363 have been horses. The šuarä were scared of them. These whites also had mua. I do not know what they were.”4 Harner suggests the bonelike articulations that so fascinated his Shuar informant were pieces of body armor (he was further told they resembled turtle shell), the left-hip-borne “yellow” machetes, swords, and the machus and muas, he-mules (machos) and she-mules (mulas). All these details hint at early colonial Spanish entradas, but even when pressed the old man made no mention of fighting between whites and Jívaros, much less memorable acts like pouring molten gold down a governor’s throat. Had the 1599 uprising been entirely forgotten by the Shuar in the 350-year interim, or had it perhaps not happened in the way described by Velasco? Or both? Like his stories of the Inka general Rumiñahui’s hidden ransom and of the rise and fall of the ancient Quiteño Kingdom of the Shyris, this tale by Velasco has remained enormously influential for over two centuries despite the absence of corroborating evidence in either the written colonial or archaeological records. But like most legends, at the heart of the Jívaro rebellion tale is a kernel of truth. The objective of this paper is not to debunk the legend -- that has already been done, though with very little fanfare, by other historians -- but rather to examine the kernel, really a series of fragments of stories that may shed light on the early neo-feudal mining economy of southeastern Ecuador and how exactly the Jívaros ultimately managed to snuff it out when so many others failed in similar circumstances. How exactly was this particular colony, or string of colonies, lost? I’ll end with some reflections on Spanish gold camps in general as a “lost colony” type. The French historian Anne Christine Taylor, along with her ethnographer husband Philippe Descola and Ecuadorian anthropologist Cristóbal Landázuri, have recently shown that the Jívaros and neighboring groups, not to mention rebellious Spaniards, mulattos, and mestizos, had in fact made the southeastern Audiencia of Quito unstable from the opening of the goldfields around 1549; the better-remembered attacks from the 4 Harner, Jívaro, 26. 364 turn of the seventeenth century were simply the death rattle of a long-sick colonial fringe.5 What led Taylor, Descola, and Landázuri to challenge the Velasco/Harner story in the first place was their growing collection of colonial documents painting a far messier and perhaps more interesting chain of events.