Archaeology of the Afro-Ecuadorians in La Concepción, Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley (Carchi-Ecuador)

Home , Baltasar Maldonado, Ecuadorians, Mira Canton

by Daniela Catalina Balanzátegui Moreno

M.A., Simon Fraser University, 2012

Dissertation Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

in the Department of Archaeology Faculty of Environment

Name: Daniela Catalina Balanzátegui Moreno Degree: Doctor of Philosophy Title: Archaeology of the Afro-Ecuadorians in La Concepción, Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley (Carchi-Ecuador) Examining Committee: Chair: Dana Lepofsky Position

Ross Jamieson Senior Supervisor Associate Professor

Alejandra Bronfman Supervisor Associate Professor

Alexander Dawson Supervisor Associate Professor

Rudy Reimer Internal Examiner Associate Professor

Theresa Singleton External Examiner Associate Professor Anthropology Syracuse University

Date Defended/Approved: June 15, 2017

Ethics Statement

iii

Abstract

Historical Archaeology of the African Diaspora in the Americas urges for interdisciplinary, collaborative, and intercultural approaches to shed light on how the material culture reflects conditions of enslavement and racialization, but also process of resistance and historical reparation. This investigation is organized in five articles connected around the topic of the cultural construction of the African Diaspora identities in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley from the perspective of historical, collaborative, de-colonizing archaeology and anthropology. One article involves archaeological and historical analysis of ceramics associated with household contexts of enslaved people in the 18th century Jesuit Andean Hacienda of La Concepcion to reconstruct creativity in production/consumptions of ceramics. Two articles articulate the historical narratives and politics of memory of the Afro-Ecuadorians, mainly from Afro- Ecuadorian Women. The last article focuses on a collaborative approach to reconstruct an 18th century cemetery. Furthermore, this study involves a collaborative project with the African descendant community of La Concepción and CONAMUNE-Carchi (Coordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras / National Coordinating Committee of Black Women)

Keywords: Afro-Ecuadorian past, Collaborative Archaeology, Cimarronas, African Diaspora ceramics.

Dedication

Para la líder, maestra, hacedora de la palabra

y mujer cimarrona afroecuatoriana , Barbarita Lara

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to my supervisor Dr. Ross Jamieson for his continuous support during the last seven years, specially the last period of my Phd. study and research. His patience, motivation and knowledge encouraged me to explore my academic interests and continue my graduate education. I would also like to thank the two members of this dissertation committee, Dr. Alejandra Bronfman and Dr. Alexander Dawson. I will always remember Alejandra encouraging me to keep writing about the African-descendant women, and be confident to start changing the role of women archaeologists and historians. I thank Alec for his insightful comments, and suggestions on my research, for his inspiring conversations about critical thinking in history, for his academic support to contribute as a Latin-American researcher, but most important for his emotional support among these years. I also thank to Dr. Hugo Benavides for his comments on both articles, Narratives of the Afro-Ecuadorian past and Cimarrona Soy, but especially for our conversations and living experiences.

Thanks to the families, authorities and friends of La Concepción that opened their homes to our team and my family. We will always be grateful for your support at all levels, working with us as partners, thinking together about collaboration, experiencing multivocality, writing and speaking with us about the Afro-Ecuadorian history. I thank to Angel Chalá, president of GAD La Concepción, our team of collaborators Delgado family, Luis David Padilla, David Carcelén, and Bryan Carcelén. I thank to the two representatives of CONAMUNE-Carchi, Olguita Maldonado and Barbarita Lara. To Olguita, “19 de Noviembre” school principal, for being a bridge between our research, the children and youth.

I would like to offer my deepest thanks to Barbarita, who has been part of this thesis, as co-author and the mentor of our learning about the Afro-Ecuadorian history. She has taught us how to be active supporters of their continuous resistance to racism and gender violence. Thanks Barbarita for sharing “la palabra que esta suelta”, I am here to keep transmitting your voice and break historical silences.

Thanks to my hermandad, my sisterhood; my beloved daughter Rafaela, my sister of soul, colleague and friend, Ana María Morales; my aunts Anita and Elita, my sisters Eduarda and Salomé, and my mother Gabriela. Thanks to Rafaela, for your immense and unique love during this journey, for your patience, smiles, and conversations and support. This thesis is yours too.

Thanks to Ana María, this thesis is also part of our dialogues, actions, and learning from la palabra and la hermandad. Thanks to my wonderful friends who supported me in many ways during these last years, contributed to my research and life, Gretchen, Katie, Sarah, Silvia, and Ruth.

I would like to thank to Ivan, my lovely husband and best friend who has been supporting my research, my beliefs, my feminist position, and our work with the Afro- Ecuadorian community. I also thank my son who gave me the light from inside to write the final lines of this thesis. Thanks to my father Byron for his support and kindness.

My immense gratitude goes to my wonderful brother, Leonardo, who has helped me as an assistant, as a friend, and has brought happiness and strength to my daughter and me during these last years.

Furthermore, thanks to all women and men who support Latin-American hermanas, compañeras, feministas to study and be respected as academic, as leaders, as humans.

vii

Table of Contents

Approval ...... ii Ethics Statement ...... iii Abstract ...... iv Dedication ...... v Acknowledgements ...... vi Table of Contents ...... viii List of Tables ...... x List of Figures ...... xi Glossary ...... xiii

Chapter 1. Introduction ...... 1

Chapter 2. Ceramics, Practice and Creolization: Enslaved African- descendants in the Eighteenth-Century Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción, Northern Andes of Ecuador ...... 4 Abstract ...... 4 Introduction ...... 5 Historical Background ...... 9 The enslaved population in La Concepcion ...... 11 Colonial ceramics ...... 12 Ceramics from the Teresa Montero Site ...... 14 Colonial Vessels ...... 18 Wheel-made Unglazed Coarse Earthenware ...... 18 Glazed Coarse Earthenware Vessels ...... 21 Colonial Pasto Ceramics ...... 25 African Diaspora Ceramics ...... 26 Pipes ...... 27 A Special object with a Bakongo cosmogram ...... 29 Figurine ...... 32 Coarse earthenware fragments with incised decoration ...... 33 Discussion ...... 36 Conclusions ...... 39

Chapter 3. Collaborative Archaeology to Revitalize a Historic Afro- Ecuadorian Cemetery, La Concepción, Chota-Mira Valley (Carchi-Ecuador) ...... 41 Abstract ...... 41 Introduction ...... 42 Historical Background ...... 45 Articulation within La Concepción ...... 48 CONAMUNE-Carchi ...... 50 Minka for the Archaeological Survey ...... 52 Proposal “Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo” ...... 55

viii

1. Commemoration of Freedom ...... 55 2. Archaeological interventions ...... 57 3. Diffusion of Results ...... 58 Reviewing the Proposal ...... 59 Multi-community dialogues ...... 60 What is learned and what is left… ...... 63

Chapter 4. Narratives of the Afro-Ecuadorian Historial Landscape in La Concepción (Carchi-Ecuador) ...... 66 Abstract ...... 66 Introduction ...... 67 Preserved, Destroyed and Abandoned Landscapes ...... 69 Heritage Landscapes ...... 75 Landscapes of Historical Reparation ...... 76 Discussion: The Other Landscapes… ...... 79 Conclusion ...... 85

Chapter 5. “Cimarrona Soy”, Historical Strategies of Resistance from Afro-Ecuadorian Women ...... 86 Introduction ...... 87 The basis for the actions is historical memory ...... 89 Historical memory and women ...... 91 Action as a product of transmitted words ...... 93 Decolonialism and Marronage ...... 97

Chapter 6. Conclusions ...... 100

References Cited ...... 107 Appendix A. Ceramic Analysis: Methodology ...... 126 Appendix B. Ceramic Analysis: Summary Tables of Groups of Ceramic Fabric ...... 132 Appendix C. Ceramic Analysis: Tables of Morphological Analysis ...... 150 Appendix D. Ceramic Analysis: Illustration of Vessel Forms ...... 158 Appendix E. Catalog of Ceramics, Teresa Montero Site, La Concepción (Carchi-Ecuador) ...... 178 Appendix F. Inventory of Enslaved Population in Haciendas del Colegio Máximo de Quito de la Compañía de Jesús, Chota-Mira Valley, 1767 ...... 201

List of Tables

Table 1 Basic forms based on morphological analysis ...... 17 Table 2 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of Glazed Coarse Earthenware by Color of Glaze (Subgroups) ...... 21

List of Figures

Figure 1 La Concepcion Parish in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley. Guided visit in Casa de los Abuelos, La Concepción, 2012 ...... 9 Figure 2 East Profile of Unit 3, at Teresa Montero midden, La Concepción ...... 15 Figure 3 Pondo for storing water, independent restricted with everted rim, Maria Elena Chalá, La Concepción 2014 ...... 19 Figure 4 Remains of a botija at Auriselia Caicedo house, La Concepción 2013 ...... 19 Figure 5 Unglazed coarse earthenware large jar ...... 21 Figure 6 Polychrome Glazed Coarse Earthenware ...... 22 Figure 7 Green Glazed Coarse Earthenware small jar ...... 23 Figure 8 Interior design of Red over Polish Cream Piartal compotera ...... 25 Figure 9 Unglazed coarse earthenware pipes ...... 27 Figure 10 Unglazed coarse earthenware object with flaring ends, decorated with a Bakongo cosmogram or other Vodun style cross ...... 30 Figure 11 Unglazed coarse earthenware figurine ...... 32 Figure 12 Incised star or asterisk on coarse earthenware independent restricted vessel ...... 34 Figure 13 Incised pitchfork on a hand-made unglazed coarse earthenware jar fragment ...... 35 Figure 14 Most popular incised motifs on coarse earthenware ceramics ...... 37 Figure 15 Cemetery covered by dense vegetation, La Concepción 2014 ...... 47 Figure 16 Cleaning the graves of the cemetery as part of the minka, La Concepción 2014 ...... 52 Figure 17 Cemetery survey, Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, 2014 ...... 53 Figure 18 Headstones found in the mapping of the cemetery, Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo ...... 54 Figure 19 Invitation to participate in the February Meeting to present Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, Elaborated by CONAMUNE- Carchi 2015 ...... 60 Figure 20 Afro-Ecuadorian ritual before the meeting to present Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, La Concepción 2015. Photography by Ivan Zambarano ...... 61 Figure 21 Jesuit church in La Concepcion, 2012. Photography by Mateo Ponce ...... 70 Figure 22 Remaining wall of the old hacienda house in La Concepción, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez ...... 72

Figure 23 Abandoned house, La Concepción, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez ...... 73 Figure 24 Carchi Station Community, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez ...... 74 Figure 25 Walking inside of the old cemetery of La Concepción, 2014. Photography by Ana María Morales ...... 75 Figure 26 Guided visit in Casa de los Abuelos, La Concepción, 2012 ...... 79 Figure 27 “Waving Laberints of Freedom” , La Concepción 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez ...... 86

xii

Glossary cimarrón Maroon, men and women that have fought for their freedom through revolt, denunciation and daily resistant criollo Spanish descendants born in the American colonies mulato An individual with an African and Spanish/criollo parents by alcohol palenque Afro-descendent communities that lived in freedom

xiii

Chapter 1.

Introduction

This investigation attempts to shed light on the construction of African and African- descendant identities in the Highlands of Ecuador from the 17th to the 21st century. The project combines archaeological analysis of material culture associated with African-descendant household contexts, archival research, and ethnographic research; to reconstruct and compare patterns of consumption, ethnic interaction, and heritage meaning. The research took place as a collaborative project with the African descendant community of La Concepción, in the Chota- Mira Valley of Ecuador, and CONAMUNE (Coordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras / National Coordinating Committee of Black Women), who represent the African Diaspora movement in Ecuador.

This thesis employs a multivocal, interdisciplinary, and a multiscalar archaeological approach to investigate the past of the African Diaspora in Ecuador. The focus of the study is a major Jesuit and post-Jesuit hacienda in the Chota-Mira Valley, the Hacienda La Concepción. The results of this investigation are presented here in four articles connected through a research program on the cultural construction of the African Diaspora in Ecuador, from the perspective of historical and collaborative archaeology. The thesis includes four articles1, Ceramics, Practice and Creolization: Enslaved African-descendants in The Eighteen-Century Jesuit Hacienda Of La Concepción (referred to hereafter as “Article 1: Ceramics”); Collaborative Archaeology to Revitalize a Historic Afro-Ecuadorian Cemetery (Article 2: Cemetery Revitalization); Narratives of the Afro-Ecuadorian Historic Landscape in La Concepcion (Article 3: Historical Narratives); and Cimarrona Soy: Women’s Historical Strategies for Resistance (Article 4: Cimarrona Soy).

This collaborative archaeological project started in 2012 with the community of La Concepcion, the centre of the parish with the same name, located in the Afro-Ecuadorian

1 I have added a small name to each article, in order to make easier to follow the introduction and conclusions.

Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley. This valley lies between the Andean provinces of Carchi and Imbabura and corresponds to the basins of the two rivers from which this region takes its name. The Chota River receives water from various tributaries that descend from the Ecuadorian Andes’ eastern chain, flowing westward. The Chota River becomes the Mira River and flows northwest to meet the Santiago River on the Ecuadorian coast. The region has several microclimates, but most of the floor of the valley, at an elevation of around 1,500 meters, has a semi-arid tropical climate. The Chota-Mira Valley flows through the Andean provinces of Carchi and Imbabura, and corresponds to the basins of the two rivers from which this region takes its name. Around 25,000 African-descendants live in this region today, and make up 4 % of the total African-Ecuadorian population.

Most of the population living in the Chota-Mira Valley are descendants of ethnic groups from Upper Guinea, West Africa and West Central Africa (Bryant 2005). From the end of the 16th century enslaved Africans were involuntarily sold to the eight Jesuit sugar plantations (referred as haciendas) in the valley. After the expulsion of the order, the Jesuits’ properties passed to the colonial state, which in turn sold them to private owners. Between 1780 and 1852 the African-descendant population made judicial claims when they felt their slave-rights were threatened. After the abolition of slavery in Ecuador (1851-1852) the enslaved population became free-peasants, in many senses legally equivalent to the indigenous population; most became debt peons on what were now private, large, haciendas, living from small plots of land assigned by the plantation owners, and earning meager cash income by working for the plantation owners (Bouisson 1997). Although it was an important historical moment, the of slavery in Ecuador did not have a large immediate effect on the social conditions and rights of African-descendants in the Chota-Mira. Down to today the elders talk about enslavement in the hacienda until the times of the Agrarian Reform in the 1960s, when the state began granting land ownership of small plots to each peasant without any obligation to the plantation owners. Therefore, three historical periods of great social and cultural tension have been defined for this analysis: the period of arrival and adaptation in the Jesuits haciendas (1580s-1767), the era of private ownership of haciendas after the expulsion of the Jesuits (1767-1852), and the post- emancipation period and incorporation into the nation (second half of the 19th century).

The articles in this dissertation each make reference to one or more of these historic periods. Article 1: Ceramics focuses on the archaeological analysis of material culture related to the 18th century enslaved African-descendant population. Article 2: Cemetery Revitalization is

mainly related to the 18th- 20th century cemetery. Article 3: Historical Narratives refers to material culture and historical landscapes of all periods from the African-descendant arrival to the present. Finally, Article 4: Cimarrona Soy centers on oral traditions and historical practices of African-descendant women since their arrival in the Americas.

The thesis emphasizes the multi-scalar and diachronic dimensions of Afro-ecuadorian, creole or African Diaspora identities in the Chota-Mira Valley (Armstrong 2003; Silliman 2009). The concepts of creolization, as used by Glissant (2008) and African Diaspora (Falola 2013) are used as global and regional theories, to understand local practices and historical narratives. The research also stresses the interaction between the African Diaspora in Ecuador and other cultural/ethnic groups such as colonial and modern indigenous populations, and white-mestizo society. The construction of Afro-ecuadorian identities is also analyzed at the level of daily activities, through the analysis of material culture from enslaved household contexts in the 18th century Jesuit hacienda of La Concepcion. The combination of these dimensions of analysis sheds light on the complexity of African Diaspora identities in Ecuador.

The methodology is of the thesis is interdisciplinary, using archaeological survey and excavation, historical research, and ethnographic research, all of which took place between 2012 and 2015. Article 1: Ceramics includes morphological and stylistic analysis of diagnostic ceramics from an 18th century household midden excavated in La Concepcion. Article 2: Cemetery Revitalization employs methodologies and theoretical concepts from collaborative archaeology, community archaeology, and decolonizing archaeology to analyze the collaboration between the community of La Concepcion and archaeologists to recuperate an 18th century cemetery. Article 3: Historical Narratives relies primarily on ethnographic research and participant observation of female Afro-ecuadorian political representatives, and elders from La Concepción, with a focus on gender studies, theories of collective memory, and critical historical and archaeological approaches. Article 4: Cimarrona Soy uses historical and ethnographic participative research to understand women’s historical strategies to resist slavery, violence and racism, from colonial times to the present. In bringing together these four strands of research, I hope to demonstrate the important role that Afro-Ecuadorian people in general, and Afro-descended women from the Chota-Mira in particular, have played, and continue to play, in the history of Ecuador as a nation.

Chapter 2. Ceramics, Practice and Creolization: Enslaved African- descendants in the Eighteenth-Century Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción, Northern Andes of Ecuador 2

Abstract

Approaches to enslaved Africans and African-descendants living on Caribbean, Brazilian and North American colonial plantations, have identified African continuities and individual and collective cultural innovations in the production and consumption of ceramics. Less attention has been paid to material culture from enslaved African descendant populations in the Andean region. Through the lenses of practice and materiality, and Glissant’s concept of creolization, a ceramic collection from and 18th century enslaved household midden at the Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción (Ecuador) is examined. This study demonstrates that the culture of enslaved people at this Jesuit hacienda combined the consumption of colonial Andean utilitarian ceramics provided to them, representing a large portion the collection; and the local production of an African Diaspora stylistic tradition in ritual artifacts, smoking pipes and utilitarian/ritual vessels. Overall, this article contributes to our understanding of the significance of the creativity of the enslaved population creativity in transmitting African Diaspora cultural traits through the production of clay objects..

Keywords: Afro-Ecuadorians, creolization, production, consumption, ceramics, practice

2 This article will be submitted for publication to International Journal of Historical Archaeology

Introduction

On October 10th 1682, the Jesuits acquired land for a sugarcane plantation and mill in the Chota-Mira Valley of northern Ecuador, which became the Hacienda La Concepción (De Ron 1696). Ten years later twenty-eight bozales3, probably from West Africa, were purchased in Cartagena de Indias and introduced to this hacienda to work as enslaved people. Four hundred years later, the descendant community that survived slavery and stayed in this community have both disjunctures from, and continuities with, their African traditions. The limited archival information available for the hacienda limits our understanding of these colonial period ancestors of the modern community of La Concepción. By considering the intersection between materiality and practice as a constitutive process of cultural construction (Silliman 2009, Joyce 2002), the material expressions of enslaved populations left from their daily activities at this 18th century Andean Jesuit Hacienda can help shed light on this gap.

This study takes clay artefacts related to African-descendants as the unit of analysis to explore the ways that material culture is integrated in a “relational” process of ‘creolization’ ” (Glissant 1990, 2006, 2008). Creolization is “originated by the contacts and conflicts of cultures… not a mechanical combination of components… and a production of something else” (Glissant 2008: 93). Glissant and Wing (1997) uses the biological concept of a rhizome to explain creolization as “a network spreading either in the ground or in the air, with no predatory rootstock taking over permanently”. Rhizomatic identities are relational, diffused and dynamic, challenging the idea of a totalizing and essentialized cultural root (Glissant 2002, 2008; Glissant and Wing 1997). This process took place because of sudden violence, which can result in changing and unpredictable cultural products. Creolization therefore is an endless and unpredictable process related to a consciously lived contradiction of cultural contacts (Glissant 1997: 158)

This creolization is embodied in enslaved African-descendant ceramic objects through chains of production, consumption and use. To explore creolization from an archaeological perspective, I use the connection between practice and colonial materiality advocated by Silliman (2009). Practices are conceived of as creative acts of consciously and unconsciously

3 Spanish colonial name assigned to African-born enslaved individuals who had recently arrived in the Americas.

remembering, forgetting, learning or partially integrating material expressions through daily activities; these practices reflect individual and collective negotiations (Silliman 2009).

The identities of the enslaved population were initially based on transatlantic contact, and later reshaped on the plantation (Gilroy 1993; Glissant and Wing 1997; Hall 1991; de Souza and Agostini 2012). In a variety of colonial New World geographical and historical contexts the plantation system spread following similar structural principles, creating a rhythm of economic production and lifestyle, representing a microcosm of the colonial interaction (Glissant and Wing 1997; Mintz and Price 1976)). In this enclosed place, creolization took place, when heterogeneous cultural elements were encountered. Through the logic of the plantation we are not only evaluating how the central colonial culture that is imposed as a form of domination is assimilated by the colonized. Instead, people living in the colonial periphery creatively constructed their own imaginaries.

African Diaspora archaeologists have often viewed some artefacts, such as ceramics and their distribution, as markers of African traditions and religious practices (Samford 1996). For instance, Ferguson generalized the idea that Colonoware was an Afro-American marker. This was inferred from the presence of low fired, unglazed, hand built, coil-made ceramics in residences of Afro-Americans among plantation contexts through Virginia, South Carolina, and Georgia (Ferguson 1980, 1999; Garrow and Wheaton 1989; Mouer et al. 1999). The emphasis on continuity and change in African traditions led to questions of how the enslaved used this material culture in the context of strategic resistance, and in practices that creatively formed African Diaspora communities in the context of plantations. Later studies focused on iconographic designs represented in colonoware as part of West-African traditions (Ferguson 1999). The recovery of a wider range of comparable data over the last two decades has made it possible to talk about colonoware, or African Diaspora, ceramic cultural markers in the Caribbean (Wilkie and Farnsworth 2005, 1999; Wilkie 2000; Armstrong and Reitz 1990; Armstrong 2003; Singleton 1996; Armstrong and Hauser 2009), Brazil (De Souza and Symanski 2009; Symanski 2010) and South America (Schávelzon 2003; Funari and Orser Jr 2015; Mantilla and Allen, n.d.). African historical archaeologists have questioned whether purported West African markers in fact represent direct transatlantic connections (Hauser and DeCorse 2003) or a dynamic interaction between indigenous, European and African Diaspora traditions. Over the last twenty years we have learned much about the variety of ceramic styles and materials used by African Diaspora communities in different contexts, such as plantations,

cities, and runaway communities, throughout the Americas. These studies have uncovered similarities in style and manufacture among enslaved African-descendant populations, but also demonstrate how ceramics were produced based on local traditions that varied throughout the New World (Armstrong and Hauser 2009; Hauser 2011; Hauser and Dawson 2009; Hauser and DeCorse 2003).

Recent studies have also investigated how African Diaspora communities within the context of slavery not only produced their own ceramics; but also used ceramics from different traditions while redefining the meaning of these objects. Wilkie (2000) explains how enslaved Bahamian peoples applied their West African cultural sensibility and aesthetics to the selection and consumption of European ceramics (Wilkie 2000, Weik 2004). This line of studies discuss how the meaning of artifacts are reshaped without privileging continuity or change in their production, but instead through the process of cultural re-appropriation and the fragmented memories of their past.

It is also important to foreground a deeper analysis of how the objects were used in everyday practices or other social engagements (Joyce 2003 3008, Pauketat and Alt 2003). Daily activities are the realm where social agents turn to their social and personal memories, making possible processes of learning, transmission, discussion and negotiation (Joyce 2008; Silliman 2009). Daily life, individual and collective memories, and human creativity create a complex landscape that resists generalization (Glissant et al. 2005:296). Beyond daily use, the production and consumption of ceramics also included multiple steps (Rice 2015; Sinopoli 1991), passing raw materials and finished objects from hand to hand, with each actor in this chain of activities holding their own set of beliefs and desires about these objects. This challenges the oversimplification of complex relations between meanings, subjectivities, and agencies, thus negating our desire to assign one “original cultural root” to material culture.

Based on this relational exploration, my objective is to explore how colonial material culture mediated interpersonal relationships between the enslaved Africans and their descendants, slaveholders, indigenous communities, and other groups of people within the context of enslavement (Mintz and Price 1976). Clearly, transmission and development of cultural practices in America during the time of slavery was more related to the process of choosing than to the influence of a majority population migrating from Africa (Morgan 1997). In this sense, the analysis of the production and consumption of ceramics by enslaved African-

descendants should show the diversity of material culture variation, conceived as fragments of memories shared from the Atlantic to the plantations.

The ceramics for this study come from a 17th-18th century midden associated with enslaved African-descendant housing at the Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción. Using archaeological, historical and ethnographic research, a total of 811 diagnostic ceramics were analyzed. This collection represents the early origins of the African-descendant community living in the Chota-Mira Valley today. Enslaved African descendants made strategic use of colonial ceramics within different stylistic traditions through complex colonial practices of production and consumption. These traditions include designs and manufacturing practices that can be compared to other African Diaspora contexts in the Americas, but are also the result of very particular social contexts. These ceramics reflect African, European and local indigenous traditions with meanings that were redefined and incorporated into the daily life of the enslaved at the hacienda.

Historical Background

Figure 1 La Concepcion Parish in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota- Mira Valley. Guided visit in Casa de los Abuelos, La Concepción, 2012

The Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción was in the Chota-Mira Valley, where the village of La Concepción exists today (Figure 1). When the Spanish arrived in the highlands of what is now Ecuador at the beginning of the 16th century, the Chota-Mira Valley was occupied by two indigenous chiefdoms, the Pastos and Caranquis. The Mira valley where La Concepción is located was part of a peripheral and interethnic area dominated by the Pasto chiefdom (Bray 2008, 2005; Jijón y Caamaño 1912; Caillavet 2000; Salomon 1986). After AD 1550 the colonial encomienda system legally granted the labour of natives to Spanish colonists and criollos4 on small farms (estancias) throughout the valley; the Pasto and Caranqui polities disintegrated (Coronel 1991). Forced work on the estancias, the displacement of traditional agriculture, and

4 Spanish descendants born in the American colonies

heavy work on small sugar plantations forced the majority of the indigenous population to migrate to the Eastern Andean slopes to avoid colonial administration, or to work as mitayos (tribute labourers) in mines and in the colonial city of Ibarra (Villalba 1983; Coronel 1991). The remaining indigenous people in the valley were relocated to growing haciendas and small towns throughout the 17th century, working for low salaries or as enslaved people (Villalba 1983). Work on the sugar plantations in the Chota-Mira Valley began to be seen as too dangerous, and inappropriate, for indigenous labourers (Coronel 1987; Coronel and Rafael 1988). In 1584 the government of the Audiencia prohibited the movement of natives from the highlands to the valley for tribute labour, and enslaved Africans began to be introduced to work along with the remaining indigenous population (Coronel 1991).

Between 1650 and 1740 the Jesuits incorporated the small farms in the Chota-Mira Valley into their growing agricultural enterprises, with a focus on sugar monoculture (Cushner 1982; Colmenares 1986; Bryant 2005). The core of La Concepción was sold by the estacionero Diego Hernandes and his wife Bárbara Ruiz Becerril to the Jesuit order in 1682 (De Ron 1696). Ten years after the acquisition of the core of the hacienda, the Jesuits had purchased a total of 192 caballerías (2,112 ha.). The Chota-Mira was transformed into a series of sugar monoculture operations on the prime bottomlands, with crop and cattle hatos (smallholdings) at higher altitudes for sustaining the hacienda labour force (Cushner 1982; Coronel 1991). In the 18th century, the Jesuits had nine large sugar cane operations in the Chota-Mira Valley. La Concepción was the third largest Jesuit hacienda in the Audiencia of Quito, and the hacienda with the largest enslaved population in the valley (Coronel 1991).

Only four Jesuits were assigned to the Province of Ibarra in 1711, making it difficult to directly control the haciendas (Cushner 1982). La Concepción, however, was a large and productive centre where at least one of the priests was employed as administrator, with 2 to 4 novices and two mayordomos managing the hacienda (Anonimo 1767). The main workforce and the largest group living at the hacienda was the African and descendant enslaved population employed in cane cultivation and sugar refining (Bauer 1983a, 1983b). Salaried mestizos and indigenous people, the descendants of the prehispanic Pastos, were the main workforce herding cattle and transporting goods in the hacienda system (Coronel 1991; Coronel and Rafael 1988; Cushner 1982; De Ron 1696; Anonimo 1767; Jurado 1992). At La Concepción interactions between the enslaved population and indigenous people were limited by their separate spheres of work, and by the separation of their settlements (Coronel 1991; Villalba

1983; Anonimo 1767).

The enslaved population in La Concepcion

It would seem that only a few enslaved Africans were purchased in Cartagena by the Jesuits over the period of the Jesuit haciendas, but enslaved Africans and their descendants made up the labour force on these operations (Coronel and Rafael 1988; Coronel 1991). The earliest known purchase was of twenty eight enslaved bozales between 1690 and 1692 in Cartagena, and these people formed the core of the labour population in the first years of La Concepción’s operation (Cushner 1982). It is possible that individual enslaved Africans were purchased more locally, in Ibarra, Quito, or Popayan; that enslaved populations were transferred between haciendas; and that enslaved people were transferred from the mines in the Barbacoas region once these proved unprofitable at the beginning of the 18th century (Cushner 1982; Coronel 1991; Anonimo 1767). At the time of the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767 there were a total of 1.324 enslaved individuals in the Chota-Mira Valley, of which 380 were living at La Concepción.

The population of bozales that arrived in 1692 could have come from any of the West African coastal sources of the slave trade. In general bozales imported into the Audiencia of Quito from 1586 to 1660 came from the Guinea River, Castas do Sao Tome and Bantu, including ethnic groups like the Jolofos, Folupo, Bañol, Biafras, Mandinga, Congo, Angola, Bran, and Zape. Most of the population was made up of Bantu Congos, Angolas, and Mandingas from the region of Gambia (Tardieu 2006; Colmenares 1986; Jurado 2002). Between 1690 and 1750 there is evidence that the Jesuits introduced enslaved people identified as Carabalis and Congos (Bantu speakers) through Popayan (Jurado 2002). Based on their names, some of the population may have come from West African and West Central African groups. We must be cautious, however, as the names of the enslaved often referred to European conceptions of Africans' geographic origins, and their shipment ports, rather than their true linguistic or sociocultural groups ( Hall 2005, DeCorse 1999, Lovejoy 1997). The naming of slaves could also be a way to organize the enslaved population, as a process of the “creation of new diasporic ethnicities” (Chambers 2001; de Souza and Agostini 2012). In 1767 for the Chota-Mira Jesuit haciendas, half of the population had surnames that referred to African nations or African root name. The rest of the enslaved La Concepción population had European surnames, such as Mendez, Delgado, Castañeda, Bonilla, Borja, Angulo and others. The main

African surnames at La Concepción were Congo (18), Angola (18), and Lucumi (11); other names included Jamayca, Ogonaga and Callamba. Some names referred to places in the Audiencia, such as Portovelo5 and Quiteño. Within the list of enslaved people in La Concepción, only two racial categories were recognized: negro and mulato6.

The Jesuits had a paternalistic attitude towards the enslaved population (Cushner 1975; Macera 1966; Samudio et al. 2002; Anonimo 1767). They attempted to create a sex-balanced population, and to keep families together when rotating the population between haciendas, in order to encourage self-reproduction (Coronel 1991; Villalba 1983; Anonimo 1767). Coronel (1991) believes that the enslaved population in the Chota-Mira generally had sufficient food and clothing under Jesuit administration, with land assigned to cultivate food and cotton. At the haciendas the work of the enslaved was mainly sugar production, but enslaved Africans also worked as blacksmiths, carpenters, cattleherds, and tilemakers (Villalba 1983; Macera 1966; Cushner 1975).

Colonial ceramics

There are no historical references to the ceramics that were used in the Chota-Mira Valley during the 17th and 18th centuries. According to oral tradition in La Concepción, the main sources of earthenwares in the 20th century were the markets in the city of Ibarra (60 km from La Concepción). Indigenous and mestizo traders from Andean towns such as Mira (20 km from La Concepción) or the city of Ibarra frequently transported large unglazed coarse earthenware pots to the Chota-Mira haciendas (Elders of La Concepción, personal communication, 2013). In addition, as in other Spanish colonial cities, enslaved African-descendants got positions as artisan’s apprentices, sometimes allowing them to save money to buy their freedom (Lucena Salmoral 1995; Lewis 2003). From other studies of 18th century Caribbean, North American and Brazilian plantations, the enslaved population were able to manufacture their own ceramics, incorporating their own knowledge and styles, and interacting with indigenous Andean and European traditions (De Souza and Symanski 2009; Hauser and DeCorse 2003; Ferguson 2012). Beside the group of ceramics related to African diaspora styles, the other two groups of

5 Jurado refers to a purchase of enslaves in Portovelo in the 18th century by the Jesuits.

6 Mulato refers to an individual with an African and Spanish/criollo parents.

ceramics that may have existed in La Concepción during this period were an indigenous Pasto tradition and a colonial “Spanish” tradition. These traditions are not closed cultural categories, only functional labels to later discuss creolization.

The chronology of the Pasto culture has been defined based on three ceramic styles: Capuli (AD 100-900), Piartal (AD 400-1650) and Tuza (AD 600-1600) (Cárdenos-Arroyo 1996). The last two are closely related to a process of interaction with European styles in the colonial period (Vargas 2013; Balanzátegui 2007). The Pasto ceramic tradition may have continued during the early colonial period, until around 1650 in more remote areas (Balanzátegui 2007) and mixed with Spanish styles in highland urban centres (Vargas 2013).

In urban Ecuadorian colonial contexts 16th- 18th century Spanish botijas, 16th -17th century European majolicas, 16th century Panama majolicas and red-slipped wares, and 18th century Andean majolicas define the ceramic styles introduced in the Audiencia of Quito (Jamieson et al. 2013; Jamieson 2001; Balanzátegui 2012). Majolica tablewares were manufactured in urban workshops following a European tradition brought to the Andes by Spanish maestros, who taught criollos, urban mestizos and the indigenous population the techniques of glazing ceramics. There was regional trade in majolicas between the highland cities of the Audiencia. Majolica production centres are poorly understood for colonial Ecuador, and cities such as Ibarra probably produced and traded majolicas regionally, including supplying the haciendas in rural areas of the 18th century San Miguel de Ibarra district. Andean majolicas were probably first produced in the 17th century in Ecuador, but more typically are related to 18th century archaeological contexts (Jamieson 2001). It is still uncertain how representative this ceramic production was in order to cover the demand of the Andean haciendas, especially in cases where the Spanish or criollos hacendados lived at the hacienda.

European potters introduced the application of lead and tin glazes, wheel-throwing, and high temperature firing to the Andes. European vessel forms were also introduced, and became mixed with indigenous Andean forms in urban colonial ceramic traditions (Balanzátegui 2012). In colonial archaeological contexts in the cities of Riobamba and Cuenca, the most frequent ceramic fabric in the colonial period was still the unglazed coarse earthenwares, used as tableware, storage and kitchen vessels (Balanzátegui et al. 2017; Jamieson 1996). These vessels may have been manufactured in the cities and also in rural villages, following indigenous traditions, and mixing prehispanic knowledge of pottery with colonial market demands. Reproduction of certain prehispanic styles may have proved to be useful in the

market place and replace some Spanish ceramic. The unglazed coarse earthenware was an instrument for indigenous people to experiment with new ceramic forms and incorporate their prehispanic styles.

Ceramics from the Teresa Montero Site

Between 2013 and 2014, archaeological survey and excavation took place in La Concepción. Auger tests in intervals of 5 meters in the center of the area historically recognized as the Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción, today the town of La Concepción, allowed us to locate different areas of the hacienda, including the Great House, mills, a cemetery and a large midden dating between the 17th and 18th century. The midden is related to the location of the Rancho de los Negros, a structure that was not archaeologically identified. However, historical references from other Andean haciendas (Weaver 2015) and ethnographic research indicate the enslaved African dwellings were close to this midden, which was a long distance from the Great House. The midden is located in the backyard of a house belonging to Teresa Montero, from which the name of the site was assigned. The midden measures 6m in diameter (28.26 m2) and has a depth of 80 cm to sterile soil. Five units were excavated in the area of the midden, a total of 8 m2 (numbered as Units 1,3,4, and5) (Figure 2).

A 28% sample of the total surface area of the midden was excavated to sterile subsoil. The midden presents eight stratigraphic levels, representing the accumulation of one occupation. It is composed of large quantities of animal bones and ceramic sherds (N:7,889; W:455.8 kg), a few construction materials, and obsidian, in a volume of 6m3. Considering the dimensions, density of material culture, location and comparable historical references to the location of the buildings for the residence of the enslaved population in Jesuit haciendas, the midden almost certainly represents the 18th century enslaved Africans and their descendants living at the hacienda.

Figure 2 East Profile of Unit 3, at Teresa Montero midden, La Concepción

The 745 diagnostic sherds (96.27 kg) represent 9.4% of the collection based on sherd count and 21.1% of the collection based on weight. These were individually analyzed to gain a more accurate classification. Diagnostic sherds included: decorated ceramics, hand-made ceramics with fingerprints, special forms (e.g. figurines, pipes, bottle rims), and morphological indictors (rims, bases, feet and handles). Sherds that were large enough for the inference of forms were used in morphological analysis (N:465). The analysis included defining the fabric, surface treatment and decoration of the sherd; and secondly assessing vessel morphology based on diagnostic sherds (Rice 2015; Shepard 1956; Sinopoli 1991).

Based on the weight of all sherds in the collection, the ceramic collection is 96.8% Unglazed Coarse Earthenware (UCE) and 3.2% of Glazed Coarse Earthenware (GCE). Within unglazed ceramics the most representative attribute is shaping technique, hand-made (22.8%)

or wheel-made (77.2%). Glazed Coarse Earthenware was grouped by glaze colors. Green glazed (47.5%) and polychrome glazed (45.5%) coarse earthenware are the most common. Small portions (<3%) of blue over white, pinkish white, white, cream and yellow also appeared in this sample. The ceramics from this collection has mostly a paste with a terracotta color (5yr on the Munsell scale). The UCE usually has coarse grains and smoothed surfaces, while the GCE has fine and very fine grains. Only the group of hand-made UCE ceramics present fingerprints. A Minimal Number of Vessels (MNV) of 332 was assessed based on the morphological analysis.

Identified forms include tableware (e.g. bowl, plato hondo, flat plates, escudillas, compoteras), cooking or storage pots (e.g. globular pots, jars), and other special forms (pipes, decorative objects, miniature bowls). The most representative are large jars/pots, followed by rounded bowls and globular pots (Table 1).

Table 1 Basic forms based on morphological analysis

Form Ceramic Fabric MNV Subtotal % Simple Bowls GCE Colorless 2 GCE Polychrome 11 UCE Hand-made 5 UCE Wheel-made 5 23 6.93% Rounded bowls GCE Green 4 GCE Polychrome 2 UCE Hand-made 28 UCE Wheel-made 19 53 15.96% Plato Hondo GCE Polychrome 1 UCE Hand-made 2 UCE Wheel-made 1 4 1.20% Flat plate GCE Polychrome 1 UCE Hand-made 1 UCE Wheel-made 4 6 1.81% Escudillas GCE Polychrome 3 GCE Blue over White 1 UCE Hand-made 1 UCE Wheel-made 1 6 1.81% Simple Bowls GCE Colorless 2 GCE Polychrome 11 UCE Hand-made 5 UCE Wheel-made 5 23 6.93% Globular pot GCE Green 21 UCE Hand-made 3

UCE Wheel-made 22 46 13.86% Jars GCE Green 2 GCE Polychrome 1

UCE Hand-made 14

UCE Wheel-made 22 39 11.75% Jars or Unrestricted UCE Hand-made 23 Pots UCE Wheel-made 108 131 39.46% Compotera UCE Hand-made 1 1 0.30% TOTAL MNV 332 100%

Colonial Vessels

Wheel-made Unglazed Coarse Earthenware

The typical wheel-made unglazed coarse earthenware forms are jars or pots with inverted lips and simple contours, and globular pots with flat and wavy lips, most of them (57%) presenting hearth blackening, showing they were used for cooking. Some wheel-made unglazed coarse earthenwares present incised motifs. The first group or jars with inverted lips might be historically documented as tinajas or pondos. According the 1767 inventory (Anonimo 1767) these ceramics were mostly used for storing water and sugar cane syrup (mieles) within the Jesuit haciendas of the Chota-Mira. The Jesuits kept the tinajas for water storage and coarse earthenware mugs inside a locked cabinet of the great house, pointing to the restricted personal use of this artefact. These tinajas may correspond with archaeologically excavated 20-40 cm rim diameter independent restricted large neck jars. The same form and others with wider body may have also been called tinacos, a term used for storage jars for sugar-cane syrups (Anonimo 1767). According to the Jesuit Inventory of 1767 (Anonimo 1767), the tinacos were usually found seated on the floor inside the mill and the kitchen of the great house complex. This group of vessels were recorded in the inventories of the Jesuit haciendas, demonstrating how valuable they were in rural contexts.

The tinajas or tinacos are presently called pondos by the African-descendant population in the Chota-Mira valley. Pondos were a system of preserving cool water in the dry hot seasons, they last two or even three generations (personal communication, Marielena Chala, La Concepción 2014). Some pondos that may have been similar to the colonial tinajas had a hole in the base that was covered with a piece of cloth. The vessel rests over a metal structure in order to dispense water as needed. Other pondos without the hole in the base are also used to store water, with the base of the pondo buried 10 cm under the surface to keep the water cool inside the house. Seating pondos on the floor to keep it cool and the use of pondos with a hole in the base to dispense water became a traditional practice for the African-descendants. The colonial tinaja or present-day pondo were the most common vessels in the archaeological ceramic collection. People still remember their multifunctionality, whether for storing water, grains, sugar-cane juice and syrup, and other traditional indigenous beverages made of maize like champus and chicha (each one made from a different species of maize). They were also used for cooking (Figures 3 and 4).

Figure 3 Pondo for storing water, independent restricted with everted rim, Maria Elena Chalá, La Concepción 2014

Figure 4 Remains of a botija at Auriselia Caicedo house, La Concepción 2013

Another Spanish traditional form was the botija, a “large, thick walled vessel, with narrow necks and convex bases”, brought from Seville to the Real Audiencia for transporting oil, wine, sugar-cane and other products (Lister and Lister 1977). Within the archaeological collection, the Spanish botijas were absent, in terms of diagnostic vessel parts, but wheel-made coarse

earthenware sherds with thick walls and salmon colored paste (2.5yr palate) were found. The remains of a botija was also present in modern African-descendants’ houses (Figure). According to the Jesuit Inventory of 1767, botijas were common at the hacienda. Thirty one were recorded by the Colegio Maximo Inventory in La Concepción, for storing distilled spirits (agua ardiente), vinegar, wine, oil and sugar cane syrup (Cushner 1982; Anonimo 1767).

Unglazed coarse earthenware small jars, with narrow lips and large necks (10-30 rim diameter), were also found in the collection. These are still used by the women in the Chota Mira Valley around thirty years ago for transporting maize beer and other liquids. The jars are carried by women on their heads, with a bright collared piece of cloth on their head to help balance the vessel. Today the remains of wheel-made unglazed coarse earthenware jars are used as ornaments inside the houses of La Concepción.

UCE rounded bowls were also found in the collection. These small rounded bowls, similar in size and shape to European teacups, have been associated with enslaved African- descendant populations in the Caribbean region (Hauser and DeCorse 2003), and the vessel form has been described as part of West African cuisine (Wilkie and Farnsworth 1999). In modern culinary practices at La Concepcion, stews with beans and red meat are a common part of daily meals. Unglazed coarse earthenwares are not common now on La Concepción tables, but within living memory stews were served in small bowls or plato hondos. A variety of wheel- made UCE ovoid or globular pots, jars, and restricted pots, are also found in the archaeological materials, and may have been used for cooking these recipes, as well as in other aspects of food storage, preparation and consumption (Figure 5).

Figure 5 Unglazed coarse earthenware large jar

Glazed Coarse Earthenware Vessels

A small portion of the excavated sample (3.2% of total sherd weights) were glazed with lead or tin glazes. Table 2 shows the percentage of glazed coarse earthenware by color of glaze

Table 2 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of Glazed Coarse Earthenware by Color of Glaze (Subgroups) Number of GCE by Color of Glaze % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless Glaze 2 0.96% 21 0.68% Cream Glaze 2 0.96% 57 1.85% Green Glaze 82 39.23% 1,460.40 47.49% Pinkish White Glaze 2 0.96% 52.1 1.69% Blue over white Glaze 2 0.96% 13.8 0.45% Polychrome Glaze 113 54.07% 1,399.40 45.51% White Glaze 6 2.87% 71.4 2.32% Totals 209 100% 3,075.10 100%

Of these, 41% of the diagnostic sherds display decorative painted designs. From the decorated sherds of this group (1,301g) 83% were polychrome glazed. The designs were petals

with lines and/or rounded leaves in brown, green and/or yellow, and form a specific motif within the polychrome glazed ceramics, part of a standardized style of decoration (Figure 6).

Figure 6 Polychrome Glazed Coarse Earthenware

Green glazed ceramics show traces of external hearth blackening in more than half of the sample, while the rest of glazed ceramic types do not have hearth blackening. Most of the polychrome glazed earthenwares are unrestricted forms and some are independent restricted vessels. Green glazed ceramics are mostly independent restricted vessels and only some are unrestricted vessels (Figure 7). Blue over white and colourless glaze only come in unrestricted forms. The most characteristic forms are polychrome plato hondo or bowls with an everted rim, green glazed globular pots with wavy lips (large, medium, short neck), and globular pots with narrowed lips and short necks. The globular pots with wavy lips are usually smoothed on the exterior and green glazed on the interior.

Figure 7 Green Glazed Coarse Earthenware small jar

The glazed coarse earthenware identified in this collection stylistically represent Spanish colonial ceramic traditions, but were used by African descendants in their daily life at the hacienda. Most of the glazed tableware recorded for la Concepción in the 1767 Jesuit inventory included forms matching the archaeological pieces. Colonial patterns of standardization of tableware, separation of pottery function, and individualization of tableware were clearly part of this Spanish tradition practiced by the Jesuits. These table manners have been proved to be relevant but adaptable with indigenous patterns of serving and eating in 18th century urban indigenous-mestizo contexts in colonial Ecuador and Mexico (Balanzátegui 2012; Jamieson 1996; Rodriguez-Alegria et al. 2005). Considering their minor presence in this collection, these practices may have been adopted, modified or resisted by the enslaved population.

Small independent restricted pots and jars in the collection may have been called glazed botijuelas or small botijas historically, and are found mainly inside the great house or the mill according to the 1767 Jesuit inventory (ICM). This form may have been used as tableware for serving liquids. Archeologically, there is an MNV of 13 green glazed globular pots with flat or

wavy lips (rim diam:10-25 cm), and 2 green glazed jars with narrowed lip and large neck (rim diam: 13-14 cm).

The 1767 inventory describes Jesuit tablewares for the great house of La Concepción as: 8 linen napkins, four knives, 2 pewter plates, 10 pewter escudillas, and wood and silver chocolate cups (cocos). Therefore, considering the presence of around 4 to 6 Jesuits, a ratio of 2.2 escudillas per person has been calculated, reiterating the importance of following a pattern of individualization as part of colonial table manners (ICM). The Quito store, from which utensils were distributed to the haciendas presented a large number of glazed coarse earthenware escudillas (246) and small plates (266), however the Jesuit haciendas in the Chota-Mira Valley inventories demonstrate a preference for tablewares made of metal. These vessels might have been used by the Jesuits and the mayordomos in the main house and then passed on to the enslaved population.

The green and polychrome glazed materials from the excavation (MNV: 29) included 3 small (rim diam: 13-15) bowls with straight and everted rims, 21 (rim diam: 10 to 21 cm) plato hondos or straight bowls with everted lip, 4 small (rim diam:15-16 cm) rounded bowls, and 1 escudilla. The large number of glazed coarse earthenware plato hondos or straight bowls with everted lips is an indicator that this pattern of individualization may have been accessible to the enslaved population and matched with a set of MNV:19 unglazed coarse earthenware unrestricted vessels including 3 platos hondos, 2 small bowls with straight or everted lip, 13 rounded bowls or straight bowls with straight lip, and 1 flat plate. In the case of the enslaved population also pilches were used instead of small bowls. The set of 48 unrestricted vessels demonstrates that not only the Jesuits, but also the enslaved population had access to these vessels. It has been argued the Jesuits in a paternalistic way considered enslavement not only a labor source, they were always finding a way to impose their own moral values on the enslaved population, and European table manners may have played a role in this. It was, however, rare for the Jesuits to dine with African-descendant people. Exceptions included slave captains who were occasionally forced to do so by circumstances, as mentioned in Jesuit manuals (Macera 1966). These manuals emphasized that Jesuit hacienda administrators should prevent the enslaved population from entering the great house, and prevent Jesuits from sleeping in the Rancherias (Macera 1966).

Food rations were also distributed to the slaves, and may have been prepared at hearths inside the rancheria (Weaver 2015; Cushner 1982). We know that the Jesuits were eager to

introduce colonial practices to the enslaved, including evangelization, sanitation habits, and moral values, but they perhaps used table manners and dishes as a way of maintaining separation from the enslaved. The presence of polychrome plato hondos or straight bowls with everted lips in the midden raises the question of how these Spanish traditional artifacts may have been employed inside the rancheria. The glazed coarse earthenwares may have been hand-me-downs, or stolen by enslaved people.

Colonial Pasto Ceramics

The pondos or tinacos are similar in function but not in form to large thin neck jars called cantaros with negative decoration, part of the Piartial style, that functions for storing liquids, in addition to their ritual use within burials to keep food for the afterlife. Pasto vessels are hand- made low fired ceramics. The Piartal ceramics usually comes in red pastes (e.g. 5yr 5/6 and 7.5yr 5.4) using a negative black decoration and hematite inclusions, with a diagnostic form of jars with large neck, carenated jars, compoteras. The Tuza style comes in cream paste (10yr 7/4 and 10yr 6/4), black, red or brown painted forming anthropomorphic and zoomorphic designs. Diagnostic forms are the compoteras, ocarinas and globular pots (Balanzátegui 2007).

Local artisans, probable Pasto descendants, producing tinajas and tinacos may have combined colonial and Pasto traditions. Few Pasto ceramics were identified in this sample. In this group the only identified form was the Pasto, Red over Polish Cream Piartal compotera (Balanzátegui 2007)(Figure 8) . The presence of this group of ceramics is minimal and could be part of a reutilization of Pasto bases found scattered around the hacienda. Modern African- descendant families in La Concepción have traditionally used the bases of compoteras for holding candles.

Figure 8 Interior design of Red over Polish Cream Piartal compotera

African Diaspora Ceramics

The archaeological study of African diaspora ceramics, through the identification of special forms and decorations associated with enslaved Africans in the New World, has become well established (Fennell 2003b; De Souza and Symanski 2009; Symanski 2010; Thompson 2010). As mentioned by Hauser and De Corse (2003) West African ceramic traditions from regions where enslaved potters may have originated are diverse, and diasporic influences should also be considered when tracing African traditions in the New World. Following Fennel (2003a:4) the decorative and stylistic suite of these types of ceramics should be considered as an abbreviated composition of “instrumental symbols culturally valued in that they formulate the culture’s basic means–ends relationships.” Fennel (2003a:26) continues “this stylistic abbreviation thus facilitated the formation of new social relationships within communities of enslaved Africans and African”. Remarking on the role of communication across cultures and intersecting diasporas. De Souza and Agostini (2012) have called this group of ceramics a representation of trade identities among African slaves, and a mechanism for creating new identities from pre-existing symbolic references.

This type of low-fired earthenware has been archaeologically excavated from sites related to enslaved populations in Brazil (De Souza and Symanski 2009; de Souza and Agostini

2012), the Caribbean (Hauser and DeCorse 2003) and North America Georgia (Ferguson 1980, 1999; Garrow and Wheaton 1989; Mouer et al. 1999). Hand-made UCE from the Teresa Montero site includes pipes with incised decoration, a cylindrical object with narrowed body and incised decoration showing a Bakongo cosmogram, and a portion of a zoomorphic figurine. Other special ceramics associated by fabric with hand-made UCE include small oval vessels, possibly for pouring liquids, and miniature bowls. Finally, there is a group of wheel-made UCE sherds mainly from large jars/pots with incised motifs of lines and asterisks. In some cases hearth-blackening dominates certain parts of the vessel or object depending on their use. Special forms like pipes, figurines and pouring vessels demonstrate the firing of the object, intentional or part of a black reduced zone of the pot that might not be related to cooking activities.

Pipes

An MNV of 6 smoking pipes were found in this midden, demonstrating tobacco pipes were used by the enslaved population of La Concepción. Today tobacco pipes are called cachimbas; smoking using cachimbas was, until the 1980s, a widespread tradition of the African-descendant population of La Concepción (personal communication). These pipes are hand-made, unglazed, coarse earthenware, two unit composite pipes (Anonimo 1767; Macera 1966; Weaver 2015; Wilkie 2000). They are fired to a red (2.5yr palate), brownish (7.5yr palate) or pale yellowish (10yr palate) color with a polished slip.

Figure 9 Unglazed coarse earthenware pipes

Archaeologists have examined clay pipes found in North American plantations and have suggested they might have African or Indigenous origins (Harrington 1951, Henry 1979, Miller 1983, Binford 1964, 1965, Pogue 1987 in Mouer et al. 1999). Hand-made pipes have also been viewed as an expression of West African ethnic affiliation and ritual practices in the Caribbean (Handler 1997), Buenos Aires (Schávelzon 2003, 2015), and the Andes (i.e. Fhon 2010; Flores et al. 1981 in Weaver 2015).

Tobacco-growing started in the late 16th century in West Africa, as a European introduction, where the tradition of pipe smoking was also widespread within the African population, and came back to the Americas as a habit of the enslaved population (Handler 1997, 2009; Emerson 1991). In the Andes, the first smoking pipes might have come in with the enslaved African population, as they have not been found in prehispanic archaeological contexts. Pipe smoking was probably an exclusively African-descendant practice in the colonial Audiencia of Quito, as comparable artefacts have not been found in non-Afro colonial contexts, or prehispanic contexts, in Ecuador. Tobacco might have been initially brought from Quito and Imbabura; its cultivation continues until today in La Concepcion. During the 18th century, the Jesuits bought and distributed tobacco to the enslaved population as part of their weekly rations, or as payment for good behaviour (Macera 1966; Anonimo 1767; Wilkie 2000). In 18th century Chota-Mira hacienda inventories tobacco leaves were present in the great house for “the use of the people” referring to the enslaved population. Tobacco leaves found in urban Jesuit storage inventories were referred to as “mazos de tabaco en humo para negros”

(Anonimo 1767). The slaves could smoke tobacco using pipes or by rolling the tobacco leaves, making the few pipes found in this context very special objects and representations of a higher status (Weaver 2015).

Two pipes have incised decoration, including motifs of herringbone and horizontal lines covering the shank to the base of the pipe. The designs are part of the variety of motifs on hand-made and ceramics from this collection. Incised decoration with similar designs are a frequent West African style on pipes and carvings from Ghana and Benin (see Kelly et.al. 2001; Vivian 2008, in Zorzi and Schávelzon 2016) and other 17th to 19th century African diaspora pipes (Cornero and Ceruti 2012; Zorzi and Schávelzon 2016). The designs are less complex compared to other archaeologically recovered African Diaspora pipes (Aguigah 1986, Arom and Garcia 1986, in Weaver 2015), but the La Concepción examples have similar decoration. The pipes are consistent with the “short-stemmed clay bowls, or so-called elbow bend or elbow pipes, into which a detachable hollow wood tube or reed stem was inserted” which are found in archaeological sites from Niger, Benin and Ghana (Handler 2008:2).

Pipes in the Dahomeyan tradition since the 16th century have been related to “accessing the coolness in spirituality” (Norman 2015 in Weaver 2015), relating to a metaphor of moral aesthetic accomplishment for having control, individual composure, and social stability, related to ideas of purity, transcendental balance, and power (Thompson 1983:41). Ownership of pipes has been considered a symbol of leisure and power, and thus as a way to transcend the status of slave for men and women (Weaver 2015)

A Special object with a Bakongo cosmogram

A single narrow-bodied cylindrical object with two incised crosses was recovered from the midden. This 12 cm-long cylindrical object has a narrow body but flares at both ends, terminating in hand-made wavy rims. The rim decoration has been identified in other handmade pots and sherds in this collection. Placing a finger in each end of the object allows it to be rotated, or it can be held by the middle of the narrowed body. The object is solid, and 3.3 cm in diameter in the middle portion. This artefact, as with most of the hand-made ceramics in the collection, shows intentional firing in selective zones externally. Comparable examples have not been found at other sites. By its shape it could be a candelabra or drinking chalice, but the unfinished interiors suggest this is not the case. It is thus probably a decorative object.

Decoration on the body includes two incised four-point crosses, located one opposite to the other. The incisions may have been done with a metal object or obsidian (which is also present in this midden). The lines of cross-1 end up with a crossing line, one in a curved line, another with a G form and one with an S form. The lines of cross-2 also end up with curved lines in the form of a number 3.

Crosses have different interpretations within an African diasporic context. In general the sign of the cross played a central role in the religious and artistic encounter between Christianity and Kongo views in the early modern period, and has been taken as a way to communicate across cultures (Fromont 2011).

One of the more frequently studied motifs, similar to the one in this object, is the Bakongo cosmogram, a quartered circle, with smaller circles at the end of each axis representing the four movements of the sun, the cycle of life and death and the progression of the seasons (Kostro and Fennell 2010; Thompson 1983; Wilkie 2000). Historical archaeologists have found the Bakongo Cosmogram marking rounded ceramic bases in African-American contexts in the Carolinas and Virginia (Ferguson 1999; Orser 1994). The marking of bowls with crosses, according to Thompson (1983), could be interpreted as a signature of the spirits that are invoked, as derived from the Kongo cosmogram (Figure 10). This type of decoration has not been found on any other ceramics from the Teresa Montero midden. As mentioned before, the main incised motifs marking pots are stars or simple lines. We could see the pottery marking as part of stylistic form applied to ceramics, however we propose that this was a special investment of this type of decoration for ritual activity. Unmarked bowls were found in this midden related to large quantities of bases from bowls, pots and compoteras, some of them showing a reuse adding some wavy shapes to the lip of the bases.

Figure 10 Unglazed coarse earthenware object with flaring ends, decorated with a Bakongo cosmogram or other Vodun style cross

Crosses, mainly representing a catholic practice are present in tombstones of the 18th- 20th cemetery of the Jesuit and post-Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción, where may have been buried the enslaved population. Fennell (2003b) argues catholic crosses were incorporated by the post-colonial West African ethnic groups and African Diaspora populations in their rituals and cosmological iconography in addition to their own beliefs about crosses. Therefore, the presence of crosses in funerary material culture and ritual ceramics should be considered from this colonial West African and African Diaspora perspective. Thompson explains that in West Africa, such as among the Kongo, the yowa cross doesn’t signify the crucifixion of Jesus for the salvation of mankind, but the vision of the circular motion of the human soul around the circumference of intersecting lines (Thompson 1983).

The cross found in this object could be interpreted as part of the Bakongo tradition, but might also resembles Vodun crosses found in places like Haiti (Thompson 1983). According to Thompson (1983), the Haiti vodun was a synthesis of classical religions of the Yoruba, the Dahomeans, and the Bakongo, also informed by the saints of the Chatolic Church. The Vodun crosses are part of rituals invoking spirits; usually the crosses are made on the floor. In the form

of a cosmological map, voodoo takes a mixing of crosses, symbols, and numerical and alphabetical characters that the spirit transmits to the medium as a message (Métraux 1972). The spirits are invoked for protection and to create spells (Thompson 1983). Archaeologically recovered pipes from Argentina present designs of veves, similar to the crosses found on the ritual object from La Concepción (Schávelzon 2015). Schávelzon (2015) found a pipe with three cruces clearly related to a Vodun ritual. According to the author this cross might be used to call the spirit of Papa Legba.

Figurine

A part of a vessel (for pouring liquids) or figurine in the form of a bull or goat face that lost one horn, with an eight point star (or asterisk) on its right side was found in the midden (Figure 11). Comparable figurines have not been found in other African Diaspora sites. However, the ritual of using animal heads in Afro-American expression is widespread in Voodoo, Santeria and Makumba. The shape of this figurine is similar to the portrayal of rams in the pottery of the Yoruba motif of osanmasinmi, which can take the form of a human head, representing protection for families (Hammer 1994). Horns were also related to ideas of growth and domestication, in opposition to wildness, in Yoruba beliefs (Picket 1971; Werness 2006). Emerson found a cattle motif on smoking pipes in the Cheasepeake related to an Afroamerican tradition, and he concluded that the design is similar to those found in West and Central Africa. The motifs used to symbolize cattle and herding are similar to the one in Central Africa (Jefferson 1973 in Emerson 1999). Livestock was an important investment for 17th century English and free Africans in Virginia and Maryland, and herding was also one of many plantation tasks reserved for slaves (Emerson 1999:59). Wilkie (2000) also found a pipe with a cattle motif, a design found in West and Central Africa.

Figure 11 Unglazed coarse earthenware figurine

Coarse earthenware fragments with incised decoration

A number of hand-made and wheel-made ceramic fragments with incised decoration were recovered from the midden have been analyzed as part of African Diaspora and West African traditions of incised decoration on ceramics (Shinnie and Ozanne 1962, Onzanne 1964 in Emerson 1999: 58). Some of these decorations were on wheel-made large jars, globular pots and independent restricted forms. The location and style of decoration is similar to Yoruba forms (Ogundiran 2001), with jars and pots with narrowed rim and short neck comparable to Afro-jamaican yabas (Meyers 1999).

The incisions include figural motifs (a pitchfork), small incisions on the rim of hand-made ceramics, vertical and horizontal lines on the body, grid patterns, asterisks, and other repeating characters. Geometrical incisions are one of the most representative types of decoration on African Diaspora and West African styles, which may also include other types of decoration such as stamping and white inlay (Ferguson 1999; see also Arrom and García 1986; Emerson 1988,1999; Fennel 2007a, 2007b; Handler 1997, 2008; Handler and Norman 2007, Orser 1996:

123- 129, in Weaver 2015 ) . Stamping and white inlays have not been found at La Concepción, however Emerson (1999) has found that the microscopy of incised lines on pipes shows the use of inlays to highlight incised decorations. Incisions have been identified as having been made with shells or fingernails. Incision appears in different places in West Africa, for example Yoruba ceramics of the 13th to 17th century include fingernail stamped motifs and circular styles, incised motifs of herringbones and criss-crosses, many of which are similar to decorations from La Concepción (Ogundiran 2001).

In this collection, stars or asterisks of 5, 6 and 8 points are a frequent motif, exclusively found on wheel-made ceramics with red paste, and similar to the star on the bull face figurine (Figure 12). Decorations on unglazed ceramics also include wavy rims that have been applied to bowls, pots, and ritual objects, and perforations. Perforations have been argued to be part of a Vodun tradition associated with ancestral deities and cosmological actors (Norman 2000). The asterisk or star is a common motif on African diaspora ceramics, a symbol that is known in Vodun as a form of protection.

Figure 12 Incised star or asterisk on coarse earthenware independent restricted vessel

One of the incised decorations is a pitchfork, which appears on a hand-made unglazed coarse earthenware jar fragment (Figure 13). The pitchfork in Yoruba is a representation of the forces of the devil: when Eshu’s trident facing upwards signifies good, while upside down signifies evil (Thompson 2010). The pitchfork also appears in Vodun, Makumba, and Santeria related to the invocation of spirits (Thompson 2010; Kostro and Fennell 2010). Considering its Christian use to represent evil forces and its complexity of symbolism in African diaspora beliefs it is a good example of the process of creolization.

Figure 13 Incised pitchfork on a hand-made unglazed coarse earthenware jar fragment

According to DeCorse considering the huge variety of ceramic decoration in West Africa Makes it difficult to propose ideas of continuity in African diaspora ceramic decoration. It is probably more accurate to see these decorations as a combination of independent inventions and influences from some West African traditions (Emerson 1999; Hauser and DeCorse 2003). Although we cannot make a direct link between this type of decoration as part of African tradition, we need to think first the enslaved population that lived between 1682 and 1767 were partially bozales, people who may recently arrived to the Americas. Secondly, the ceramics identified as hand-made and wheel-made marked pots are clearly part of the enslaved

population production and intervention, because the Pasto ceramics, Spanish tradition and colonial indigenous unglazed coarse earthenware are clearly distinguished from this group. Even if line decorations has been considered as a pancultural design (Emerson 1999: 55), De Souza and Agostini (2012) has also related the incised lines, the vast majority appear on cooking pots of colonial enslaved Afro-brazilians to 18th- 19th century West African traditions of Yoruba, Macua and Angola scarification (see figure 6 in De Souza and Agostini 2012). This type of decoration appears on the same location the lines have been found in this collection of sherds. The motives are mainly located in the neck and body of independent unrestricted vessels as the ones found in La Concepción. According to De Souza and Agostini (2012), based on the ethnohistorical approach to African slaves in Brazil and also in West African contexts, scarification was a form of beatification, indication of health or social status, for initiatory rituals, medical purposes or to distinguishing ethnicity, a sign of sorrow, sexual pleasure and sign of civilization. Yoruba and Niger people decided to replicate scarification practices in material forms including pottery (David et al. 1988:371-378; Fatunsin 1992:62-63; Pikirayi 1993:145-146; Barley 1994:128-136; Gosselain 1999:81 in De Souza and Agostini 2012 ). Among the Yoruba scarification involved patterns such as parallel vertical and horizontal lines (Adepegba 1976:83; Drewal 1989:244 in De Souza and Agostini 2012), as the ones found on pottery. Most important since the 18th century the vertical parallel lines as scarification known as péle has been identified as form to disapprove or reject tribal distinctions within pan-Yoruba identities, and later as a form of beautification among Muslims among enslaved people in West Africa. Therefore the pele would have been an effective symbol of Yoruba identification in Brazil. In this way the enslaved people of Brazil were creating new symbols of pan-cultural bonds to cope with new social and cultural needs (De Souza and Agostini 2012).

Discussion

This study reveals that the African-descendant enslaved population in La Concepción produced and consumed their own ceramics, as manifestations of their individual creativity to adapt and incorporate a variety of beliefs from different cultures, in a historical process of creolization. This “crossroads” of African Diaspora ceramics can be understood as an intersection of local and continental connections as well as Atlantic traces (Kostro and Fennell 2010). The African-descendant enslaved population used colonial glazed coarse earthenware as part of their tablewares, and wheel-made coarse earthenwares for cooking and storage. The use of these coarse earthenwares from a Spanish/colonial tradition demonstrates that they

incorporated material styles with multiple meanings. Pondos and tinajas were used for storage, and were marked with incised motifs. These vessel forms were adapted to be used for storing local Andean foods and beverages, also reminding us of the intersections between indigenous and African-descendant traditions. The rounded bowls and globular pots in the midden could be part of an effort to introduce West African foodways, comparable to other sites in the Caribbean (Wilkie and Farnsworth 2005; Wilkie 2000). Meanwhile, glazed coarse earthenware platos hondo, small jars and escudillas show the introduction of colonial and European manners, such as individualization, and standardization of table settings. According to the historical research, the Jesuits were following these norms and promoting European table manners by the enslaved population. This could explain our finding of glazed coarse earthenware in the Teresa Montero midden. Even if the Jesuits were not quite interested in the transmission of these manners to the enslaved population, the re-use of these objects in a context of cultural interaction might have been enough to initiate the process of incorporating European manners in African- descendant foodways. We should also consider the ways that the African-descendant population made choices of European and indigenous ceramics, in designs, material, and colors, as the incorporation of these items into their daily life expresses a process of creolization. They adapted the ceramics to their uses and needs, as they did with the storage and cooking pots with incised lines and designs that might be representing what De Souza and Agostini (2012) describe as pan-cultural designs and beliefs.

Enslaved people manufactured ceramics in La Concepción mostly for their personal, or community use. They emphasised an African Diaspora aesthetic in a relational manner. Hand- made ceramics, decoration with incised motifs of the Bakongo cosmogram, Vodun or Yoruba signs, smoking-pipes and other special forms and decorations demonstrated the enslaved population were intentionally and actively investing by producing ceramics mostly for ritual purposes (Figure 14). Even if our knowledge about their African background is limited, we see how their traditions allowed them to connect between people with different ethnic backgrounds and create the basis of their new community.

Figure 14 Most popular incised motifs on coarse earthenware ceramics

West and West Central African and other African Diaspora aesthetic traditions in ceramics should be considered an important aspect of the socio-political context of daily practices in the hacienda setting (Weaver 2015). Enslaved Africans on New World Jesuit haciendas were limited by the Jesuit fear of slave escapes, the possibility of pagan practices, and resulting disorder on the hacienda. Ceramic objects were part of this dynamic, and we should remember that there was a process of social forgetting in the middle passage, which Glissant refers to as a process of originating. The mixing of different ethnic groups, deportation, and enslavement all had an effect on the memory of this enslaved population that should be considered. Forgetting was part of the system of slavery. When ceramics of indigenous people and African descendants are not using characteristics of their traditional style this may be part of a process of forgetting, but also part of moving into a more complex colonial world where creolization takes place (Glissant and Wing 1997; Silliman 2009). The act of forgetting, in leaving behind some characters and choosing only part of ceramic designs, makes possible the final result of creolization. We should also consider other questions such as if the potters were women or men, considering the ceramics were mainly elaborated by women in West Africa (Norman 2000). We should also consider the diversity of forms, designs and artefacts as part of the difference between the status and identity of enslaved individuals. For instance, the smoking pipes might be for specific individuals, considering the different roles enslaved people had at the hacienda, and their internal hierarchy (Weaver 2015). If the glazed tablewares were also part of

a group of rewards or even stolen from the great house, the possession of these objects might be a display of social differences between individuals.

La Concepción hacienda was administratively part of the Jesuit Colegio Maximo of Quito, and thus ceramics may have been purchased or supplied from Quito, and maybe Ibarra. Glazed coarse earthenware and some unglazed coarse earthenware may have been sent from the capital. The Pasto indigenous people living in Mira or El Angel made other unglazed coarse earthenwares locally. These are hypotheses that could be confirmed with XRF analysis that is underway on the collection. In this respect, the inventories historical documents do not make reference to a ceramic-making industry at the Jesuit haciendas. Enslaved and free Africans in Quito and Ibarra may have worked as artisans, including in pottery workshops (Lucena Salmoral 1995; Lewis 2003). The rural indigenous population still supplied most of the unglazed pottery market, while urban criollos, and mainly mestizo and indigenous artisans, satisfied the glazed earthenware market. These traditions supported the hacienda demands for storage, cooking pottery, and tableware with other imported European and American glazed and unglazed coarse earthenware. Clearly in the 18th century the Prehispanic Pasto style was part of the memories of the potters. Forms that were widespread within the hacienda contexts, such as independent restricted jars and other pots are clearly influenced by the knowledge of indigenous potters with a Pasto ancestry.

Conclusions

These practices are part of an alternative discourse about the past that recreates the multiple and diverse fragmented memories and desires of the enslaved population, expressed through the creation and use of material culture. The stylistic repertory of the enslaved population in this Jesuit hacienda is not a repetitive act of reproducing African symbols and practices. In this sense, there the use of ceramics is a connection with an active and dynamic past. They became the nexus to mediate a new set of needs and interests in the New World, an unpredictable process that was the product of the contradictions of “cultural contacts” (Glissant 1990:158). The process of production and consumption of material culture from African- descendant enslaved populations in La Concepción demonstrates how these relations between different cultural groups became part of the collective memory of their descendants. This process involved acts of creative representation and imagination; the enslaved population’s identity was a mixing of particular African-descendant stories in relation to the Jesuits, the

indigenous population, the Andean landscape and a story of forced movement. The stories are clearly part of this material culture; the symbols similar to the Bakongo, Yoruba or Vodun traditions, the presence of smoking tobacco pipes, the incised decoration and the other hand- made ceramics are not only part of their memories about Africa, they are the expression of their lived experiences in the Atlantic, expressing the spirituality, individual creativity and artistic expressions that resisted the exploitation of their humanity. These objects also exhibit both representational and idiosyncratic decorative art, with a representation of cattle perhaps reflecting the social realities of life on this plantation (Emerson 1999). There is a desire to achieve freedom and the relations recreated in this dynamic are marked according to this desire. Therefore, the activities of production and consumption are contextualized in this desire. For instance, the enslaved population used the production of hand-made ceramics as a way to express their beliefs despite the restrictive context of Jesuit Catholic values and sets of meanings. Within this context, the set of beliefs, symbols and material culture from the Christian religion were incorporated or re-interpreted into African Diaspora religions. This dislocation, flux, and ruptures produced creolization at the same time as it was associated with the emerging globalized world, the result of colonization to be negotiated and resisted through material culture (Comaroff and Comaroff 1993). In the analysis of this material culture we are able to see how the plantation is “the belly where African descendant communities originated in a rizomathic way” (Glissant 1990: 68).

Chapter 3. Collaborative Archaeology to Revitalize a Historic Afro- Ecuadorian Cemetery, La Concepción, Chota-Mira Valley (Carchi-Ecuador) 7

Abstract

This article discusses an ongoing project to revitalize an 18th-20th century Afro-Ecuadorian cemetery called the “Garden of Memory, Martina Carrillo”, in the community of La Concepción, in the Chota-Mira Valley in northern Ecuador. Throughout the design of a proposal for restoration of the cemetery the community of African-descendants, including the National Coordinator of Black Women8, CONAMUNE-Carchi, and a group of Ecuadorian archaeologists and anthropologists employed a collaborative approach to the history and recuperation of this sacred place. The archaeological participation contributes to supporting the recognition of local histories, developing an intercultural investigation, a reflexive understanding of their past and material culture, and commemoration of their African Diaspora ancestors. The methodology used in this project is focused on achieving historical reparation for the African-descendants that have been affected by colonial slavery and racism in Ecuador. These experiences are incorporated into a larger discussion about collaborative African Diaspora archaeologies and the study of cemeteries in Latin America.

Keywords: African Diaspora, cemetery, La Concepción, collaborative archaeology

7 This article will be submitted to the Journal of African Diaspora Archaeology and Heritage

8 Coordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras

Introduction

Archaeological studies of colonial cemeteries of the African Diaspora in the Americas have contributed to bio-anthropological studies and the investigation of mortuary practices of enslaved and post-emancipation African-descendants (Corruccini, Jacobi, et al. 1987; Corruccini et al. 1985; Handler and Corruccini 1983; Handler 1997; Jamieson 1995; Khudabux 1991). According to the African American Cemeteries database9, archaeologists, museums, and communities have recorded around six hundred cemeteries in the USA. Some of them are still in use; some are recognized as national historical sites. However, only a limited number of cemeteries have been studied through an archaeological approach. In a comparable example, an inventory of places of the Atlantic Traffic of Slaves and the History of the Enslaved Africans in Brazil prepared by the University Federal Fluminense and UNESCO in 201310 includes four cemeteries from a list of one hundred sites that are relevant to the stories of enslaved Afro- Brazilians. In this list only one cemetery has been archeologically investigated, the Cemitério dos Pretos Novos in Rio de Janeiro (Da Silva Pereira 2007). Furthermore, many of these cemeteries are abandoned and frequently destroyed under redevelopment or construction projects. Considering cemeteries are “culturally, spiritually and politically sensitive sites” for African-descendant communities (Leone et al. 2005), the consequences of this destruction are irreversible, and include cultural, historical and emotional loss for descendant communities.

The archaeological procedures which are followed when a historical cemetery is encountered depends on national or regional cultural heritage legislation that in many cases lacks a proper approach to African Diaspora material culture and human remains. The ethical parameters depend upon the cultural resource management archaeologist’s perspective and the property owner’s’ priorities, which are usually far from the community’s beliefs and needs (Leone et al. 2005; Eberwine Jr 2005). In these contexts, many African American activists, scholars, and communities have intervened to stop the destruction of cemeteries, in some cases arriving

9 http://africanamericancemeteries.com/deathrecords.html, African American Cemeteries Online 10 Lugares de Memoria do Trafico Atlantico de Escravos e da Historia dos Africanos escravizados no Brasil foi coordenado pelo Laboratorio de Hisotria Oral e Imagen da Universidade Federal Fluminense, em parceria com o Comite Científico Internacional do Projeto da UNESCO “Rota do Escravo: Resistencia, Heranza e Liberdade”, http://www.labhoi.uff.br/memoriadotrafico

when human remains have been already removed, and the ancestors disturbed (LaRoche and Blakey 1997; Eberwine Jr 2005; McCarthy 2008). African Diaspora communities in the Americas are increasingly demanding to be included in these decisions, working from a perspective that calls for the decolonization of knowledge, and that archaeological investigations address political demands and ethical archaeological studies.

The destruction of these sacred places is not exclusive to the United States and Brazil. In Andean countries such as Ecuador, cemeteries of the African Diaspora are endangered by lack of protection under national heritage laws, because of historical practices of racial exclusion (Balanzátegui and Morales 2016). In the Ecuadorian case, bio-anthropology of human remains and the archaeological study of cemeteries from historical periods are still fields to be explored (Ubelaker and Ripley 1999; Ubelaker 2005). Historical burials, archaeologically studied, have mainly been studied from three colonial cities in Ecuador, from which identified human remains demonstrate ethnic mixing of urban populations including the presence of African traits (Klaus 2013). Usually, prehispanic, colonial or later human remains are archaeologically studied with the authorization of the Ecuadorian state, but without the permission of, or consultation with, Indigenous or African-descendant communities. In addition, Afro-Ecuadorian material expressions, traditional knowledge, and cultural practices have suffered processes of blanqueamiento (“whitening”) and appropriation in order to become part of national heritage (Gnecco 1999, 2002; Wade 1997a,1997b). Andean archaeology has been focused on the study of the prehispanic indigenous past, leaving the archaeology of the African Diaspora as a very rare field of study (Singleton and de Souza 2009).

The political context of Andean countries influences the preservation and study of these sacred sites. Since the 1990s, Andean countries have been recognized as multicultural nations, including African-descendants or Black communities, towns or ethnic groups that made up their nations11. However the protection of historical sites, and heritage legislation, is still focused on prehispanic heritage. One of the main points of the Law of Culture of Ecuador is the right of each community or cultural group to preserve, protect and develop its cultural and historical heritage, and preserve its social memory with national funding. The Ecuadorian state

11 Grupo Opca: Legislación Colombiana Sobre Patrimonio: Circular Jurídica General Sobre Manejo Del Patrimonio Arqueológico (Icanh): Artículo 101 De La Constitución Política , Con La Ley 9 De 1961, Convención Sobre La Plataforma Continental, Suscrita En Ginebra El 29 De Abril De 1958, Y La Ley 10 De 1978. Ley General Del Patrimonio Cultural De La Nación http://www.tiwanakuarcheo.net/16_legal/ley_28296.htm

is also committed to conserving the cultural heritage and common memory of Latin America and the Caribbean region. In this context, the Law of Heritage and Culture specifies the protection of sites and objects with scientific, historical or cultural relevance as part of the National Cultural Heritage. Perversely, the same law declares protection only for cemeteries dating to the prehispanic and colonial periods. In some sense, Ecuadorian national law incorporates a definition of heritage that outlines the rights of each ethnic group to protect, preserve, and develop their material and intangible heritage; however, in the end, the state holds sovereignty over their past. These laws are also difficult to implement given the bureaucratic processes entrenched in the state institutions protecting national heritage. In this context, Afro-Ecuadorians have developed their own strategies to protect their heritage, interpret their past, and study their material culture (Anton and Tuaza n.d.; Walsh and García 2015).

Collaborative archaeology offers a new framework for the African Diaspora, creating a critical dialogue between the descendants, non descendant populations, and archaeologies (Cuddy and Leone 2008; Matthews 2008; Shackel and Gadsby 2008). Collaborative archaeology has not, however, been employed in the archaeology of African Diaspora cemeteries. Collaborative archaeology has been focused on developing dialogue between archaeology and descendant communities, especially with regards to the development of Indigenous Archaeology and the interests of Native Americans and First Nations (Colwell- Chanthaphonh and Ferguson 2006a; Silliman 2008; Atalay 2006, 2007). From the perspective of a more collaborative and decolonizing archaeology, this body of work has the potential to assist descendant communities to protect, recuperate, and investigate the history of sacred places (González-Tennant 2014). Therefore, this article explores how a collaborative archaeology can become a positive and ethical practice to support Afro-Ecuadorian historical construction. The archaeological intervention in the Community of La Concepción, initiated with the encounter between the national organization of African-descendant women “National Coordinating Committee of Black Women” (Cordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras, CONAMUNE in Spanish)-Carchi, the communities of La Concepción, and the authors, offered opportunities to support a process of recognition and revitalization of the “Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo” 18th- 20th century cemetery. I analyze the foundations for this project, addressing practices that reflect pluralistic participation and regulations of archaeological intervention in this sacred place.

Historical Background

The Afro-Ecuadorian communities of La Concepción parish are located in the Chota- Mira Valley, in the provinces of Carchi and Imbabura in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley (Territorio Ancestral Afroecuatoriano del Valley del Chota-Mira, in Spanish)12 (Figure 1). Around 25,400 African-descendants live in the two provinces (Carchi and Imbabura) and comprise 2.06% of the total Afro-Ecuadorian population13. The parish includes sixteen African-descendant and two mestizo communities.

The town of La Concepción is the administrative and political centre of the parish and was also the center of the largest 18th century Jesuit hacienda in the Chota-Mira Valley, where the majority of the enslaved population worked in the cultivation and processing of sugar cane. The cultural origins of this population in Africa has not been explored, however Bryant (2005) points out that the Africans that arrived in the Audiencia de Quito during the 16th century were from Upper Guinea, West Africa, and West Central Africa, and some of them could be part of the formerly enslaved population in the Chota-Mira Valley. The 17th century enslaved population may also descend from forced immigrations from the Andean colonial cities of Quito and Popayan (Bryant 2005; Lane 2000, 2002). The African-descendants living in the valley also have a distinctly Andean influence gained from their ethnic interaction with indigenous descendants of prehispanic Pastos and Caranques (Bray 2005, 2008; Coronel 1991).

After the expulsion of the Jesuits, their properties were acquired by the colonial state, which later sold them to private owners, dividing the former Jesuit haciendas. The transition to private haciendas produced anxiety for the authorities, the hacienda owners, and the enslaved population, because the new owners failed to preserve the organization of the Jesuit haciendas. Between 1780 and 1851 the African-descendant population made judicial claims when they felt their slave-rights were threatened, they organized revolts and escaped (Lucena Salmoral 1995). The Ecuadorian independence wars (1810-1830) also made the African-descendant population more intent on gaining their freedom, but formal abolition only arrived in 1851(Bouisson 1997).

12 Afro-Ecuadorian political movements have recognized two Ancestral Territories. One that is located in the Chota- Mira Valley where the enslaved Africans and their descendants arrived from the 16th century onward. The other is located in the northwest coastal province of Esmeraldas and northward into Afro- Colombian coastal communities (Walsh and García 2010). 13 Resultados Autoidentificación de Población del Censo 2010, CPV 2001 y 2010. CODAE (Wilson Villegas Proaño)

Slaves became free peasants, the same as the indigenous population. This meant they might live from a piece of land assigned by the hacienda owners and earned a meager cash income (Bouisson 1997). For the local population, the abolition of slavery did not have any effect on the social conditions and rights of African-descendants (Glynn 1983; Stutzman 1974). Even nowadays, the elders talk about enslavement in the hacienda that persisted until the sixties. Based on the First Agrarian Reform in 1965, the African-descendant peasant organisations in the Chota-Mira Valley obtained the right to private land ownership without any obligation to plantation owners (La Concepción elders, personal communication 2013). Since then the African-descendant organisations and communities of the Chota-Mira Valley have struggled to defend their civil rights and, for the recognition of the colonial injustices that prevailed to the present through racial discrimination (Zambrano Murillo 2010).

The area where the old cemetery is located today belonged to the former Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción, and was managed by the Jesuit religious order until 1767, when it became the private property of the Hacienda Santa Ana. Therefore, the enslaved population may have used this cemetery since the 18th century. According to oral tradition, this area was designated as a cemetery for the five nearest communities, La Loma, Chamanal, La Concepción, Santa Ana, La Convalecencia and El Hato, once part of the Jesuit Hacienda of La Concepción. Around eighty years ago, the population decided to move the cemetery to another location close to the original one and the old cemetery was abandoned. Since then, the people from the community have focused on the new cemetery for their rituals, leaving the old one as part of their memories, in a process of intentional abandonment.

With time, the old cemetery was less visited and in the 1960s was already covered with dense vegetation. In 2005, when leaders from CONAMUNE-Carchi revisited this site and found some the remaining gravestones, they asked for the site to be protected. However, the intensive work of recuperating the cemetery by Barbarita Lara (personal communication 2014), representative of CONAMUNE-Carchi, was not recognized by the national government, local representatives and academic institutions. Instead, looters illegally excavated the cemetery looking for Prehispanic Pasto and Caranqui objects (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). Barbarita Lara (personal communication 2014) explained during our visits how their claims to recognize the existence of this site were denied by national authorities and scholars on many occasions. The denial of this sacred place has been related to a process of reaffirming

that western knowledge was superior to the traditional knowledge that recognized this place as part of Afro-Ecuadorian history (Walsh 2007:206).

In 2012, the area of the old cemetery was donated to a private university, Universidad Politécnica Estatal del Carchi (UPEC) as part of a field school station for environmental and agricultural investigations. The site was impacted by cultivation of plants and pasturage (Figure 15). The same year authorities of the parish and the CONAMUNE-Carchi re-visited the place and reported the existence of graves with engraved headstones to the Hacienda Santa Ana’s owner. He donated an area comprising 3,587.8 m2 to the community, but under the supervision of the UPEC. In 2014, representatives of CONAMUNE-Carchi approached me to visit the cemetery. In this sense, Barbarita Lara envisions archaeological practice as a strategy to make the “others” (making reference to the blanco-mestizo population and their western knowledge) interested in learning about the Afro-Ecuadorian past. Barbarita Lara locates archaeology as a bridge and instrument of negotiation with the other, so that outsiders may learn about Afro- Ecuadorian history. Lara also reminds us that Afro-Ecuadorian remains belong to those who lack political and economic power, and archaeology may support a negotiation with those others too (personal communication 2015). Lara (personal communication 2015) affirms “Archaeology could open the door for negotiation between the Afro-Ecuadorian population (the owners of their past) and those with power”.

Figure 15 Cemetery covered by dense vegetation, La Concepción 2014

Articulation within La Concepción

Since the beginning, by employing a collaborative approach to revitalize the Afro- Ecuadorian historical cemetery, we have agreed that “when communities are not integral participants in the research effort, the consequence is the loss of research opportunities, as well as humanistically and scientifically ineffective investigations” (Leone et al. 2005). Integral means the community is expected to be involved in all stages of the research design, implementation, interpretation and dissemination of results (Marshall 2002; Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson 2006a). In this sense, collaborative archaeology aims to integrate the descendant communities we work with not only as informants, but also as participants.

In 2012, Ecuadorian archaeologist Daniela Balanzátegui (Simon Fraser University, Canada) and the anthropologist Ana María Morales (FLACSO, Buenos Aires) started a project with the African-descendant communities in La Concepción looking for a better way to address their mutual interests in investigating the Afro-Ecuadorian past. The project was also part of Balanzátegui’s doctoral investigation (SFU-Canada). The initial platform formed by the scholars and representatives of the Decentralized Autonomous Government of La Concepcion (Gobierno Autónomo Descentralizado GAD in Spanish) brought together members of the community, archaeologists, historians and anthropologists to discuss how to develop historical archaeology of the African Diaspora in Ecuador.

When we arrived in La Concepción, we found that similar objectives to ours were already being applied by CONAMUNE-Carchi, in their efforts to disseminate the Afro- Ecuadorian past. Elders recounted the history of La Concepción, and CONAMUNE-Carchi had developed projects to preserve that memory, including a program of ethno-education, and a small interpretation centre called the Casa de los Abuelos (Home of the Ancestors). We started by enhancing the descendant’s goals and objectives, by building a project that was historically and culturally relevant, taking valuable lessons from other collaborative and African Diaspora archaeological projects (McDavid 2002; LaRoche and Blakey 1997; Colwell- Chanthaphonh and Ferguson 2006a).

During two seasons of fieldwork in May to September 2013 and May to November 2014, archaeological, historical and ethnoarchaeological research took place in La Concepción. The initial process of research design involved assemblies with the elders and landowners of the community, under the approval of GAD La Concepción. The result was a refined proposal for

archaeological and historical research on the Afro-Ecuadorian past in La Concepción, focusing on topics such as colonial enslavement in the Jesuit and post-Jesuit hacienda; manifestations of collective and individual resistance during the colonial and republican periods; African and African-descendant cultural contributions to descendant identities; and expressions of structural racism and national exclusion. In addition, during this first season of fieldwork, under the approval of the GAD-La Concepción, the archaeologists and community leaders organized three workshops for women, youth and children (under parents’ supervision). The workshops encouraged their participation in the project as volunteers for community mobilization, the organization of follow-up social activities, and community education about the processes of archaeological intervention. The workshops for children and their parents were focused on experiential education, to learn more about the past of their local community based on archaeological excavation and the recuperation of material data (Galanidou and Dommasnes 2007). These first steps allowed us to create profound connections between different actors (scholars, government representatives, community leaders, and community members), all of us interested in exploring the Afro-Ecuadorian past from our different backgrounds (Bendremer 2008; Mills 1996, 2008; Silliman and Dring 2008).

Considering that the main objective of decolonizing methodologies is to validate non- occidental traditional knowledge, in order to pair it with scientific and academic knowledge (Smith 1999), in 2014, the project established a network that articulated multiple actors as part of a process that also embraced collaboration. Collaboration was focused on four groups. a) GAD-La Concepción, working with us to create proposals and execute them as collaborative actions between the academics and local government. b) The permanent group of 7 community members (women and youth) that received training in archaeological and anthropological methodologies and techniques by the scholars. They participated actively in incorporating new questions into the research design, and worked as archaeological assistants during the archaeological surveys, excavations and ethnoarchaeological interviews. c) CONAMUNE- Carchi, who asked for archaeological intervention to recuperate the historical cemetery. d) Other community members, whose input to the project included conversations, informal questions, invitations to their meetings, etc. This local network was the foundation that allowed our collaborative work in the cemetery. However, the descendant community that was involved in the recuperation of this cemetery involves, local, regional, national and globalized, contexts and influences, making it a multi-community. Few African-descendant elders living in La Concepción parish still have their grandparents buried in this cemetery, however most of the local

community feels emotionally and historically connected to the cemetery (La Concepción elders, personal communication 2015). Other national movements, intellectuals and leaders that are part of Afro-Ecuadorian society were also conceptualized as part of the descendant community, as they are historically, culturally, symbolically, and politically associated with this sacred place.

CONAMUNE-Carchi

The main Afro-Ecuadorian organization that we developed this collaborative project with is CONAMUNE-Carchi, and its representatives in La Concepción. The principal members of CONAMUNE-Carchi that were part of this project are the intellectual and political leaders Barbarita Lara and Olga Maldonado. The members of this organization share postulates with the Afro-Ecuadorian community, and with African Diaspora communities worldwide. Created in 1999, CONAMUNE is a network of organizations formed by Afro-Ecuadorian women from various Ecuadorian provinces. They work to promote gender equality, respect, and to strengthen African-descendant women’s pride as a strategy to eradicate poverty, racism and gain political participation in the planning and application of national and regional policies for the benefit of Afro-Ecuadorians14 (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2015). The organization promotes reparation for Afro-Ecuadorian women and men, based on historical injustices related to slavery, removal of their native lands, enslavement, and the psychological trauma these have caused in contemporary society (Logue 2004). In addition to post-slavery inequalities and injustices applied to Afro-Ecuadorians, reparation involves restitution, rehabilitation, and guarantees of non-repetition, satisfaction, and compensation (Torpey and Burkett 2010). CONAMUNE seeks to make the history of Afro-Ecuadorians more publicly visible, bringing forward questions about slavery, ancestral territory, African Diaspora identity construction, and the eradication of racism (CONAMUNE Imbabura and Carchi 2015). Afro-Ecuadorians propose ideas of historical reparation and social justice as political practices to break racial stereotypes,

14 In Ecuador the terms Afro, Negro, Afro-Ecuadorian, African-descendant or Diaspora have been used depending on individual and collective experiences with cultural constructions and political activism (Bautista, personal communication 2015). The term Afro-Ecuadorian has been officially used since 1996 as a rejection of social, economic, political and cultural exclusion.

changing ideas about enslaved people as inferior and people without knowledge (Rahier 1999; Walsh 2007).

CONAMUNE-Carchi works advocates for an Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley. This territory shares a historical interaction between communities since colonial times, and reflects the importance of family and community networks in surviving slavery, and preserving an African-descendant identity through time (García 2001). The descendant communities base the concept of ancestral territory on a process of enhancing pride in being African-descendants, in order to unify and organize the Afro-Ecuadorian population. This organization also emphasises the use of oral tradition by Afro-Ecuadorians as vital to the construction and transmission of knowledge, through stories, myths, legends, and the practice of religious traditions such as singing and praying (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). As a part of this effort, CONAMUNE-Carchi has created the School of Oral Tradition “to share the knowledge of the ancestors”, through audio recording and writing down the traditions to make them available in the schools of the ancestral territory. They also work for respect of non-western knowledge, based on the heritage of oral tradition. Oral tradition was the venue that enslaved Africans and their descendants had to use to transmit their history, maintain their memory, and respond to racism and discrimination (Wylie 2015). In this context the CONAMUNE-Carchi sponsors a project of ethno-education to teach Afro-Ecuadorian history within African-descendant communities. Part of the ethno-education proposal is to investigate oral memory, re-write African Diaspora history, strengthen Afro-Ecuadorian knowledge about this history, and then share it outside with non-African-descendant audience. This ethno- education is part of a process to teach and learn “casa adentro” (inside the Afro-Ecuadorian community) with their own voices (Pabón 2007a). “Casa afuera” (outside the Afro-Ecuadorian community), they share their history with others, but only as a second step (Pabón 2007a). Overall, the program of ethno-education tries to develop other forms of thinking and make the descendants critical agents of their own lives, communities and histories, not only with written sources, but mainly with the action of collective memories and traditional learning (Walsh 2007:206). Since then, ethno-education has been included in textbooks andeducation programs from elementary to high school in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territories. As part of the “casa afuera” program to engage a dialog with outsiders, CONAMUNE-Carchi created the small interpretation center called the House of the Grandparents (Casa de los Abuelos). CONAMUNE-Carchi’s objectives and actions are relevant to understand the process to construct the Garden of Memory project in collaboration with scholars. The Garden of Memory

Martina Carrillo project is framed by Afro-Ecuadorian knowledge and traditional forms of transmitting history, learned from their ancestors. In this sense, pluralism was practiced, and archaeology became one of many forms of knowledge, all on an equal footing (Wylie 2015).

Minka for the Archaeological Survey

One of the main parts of this dynamic communication was to understand how archaeologists could collaborate, using constant dialogue and a collaborative type of work called minka, as a way to learn about community expectations. After several conversations, CONAMUNE-Carchi organized a minka to clean and archaeologically map the cemetery area (Figure 16). Minka is an Andean indigenous term that involves the volunteer participation of descendants working in a specific task that benefits the whole community. The appropriation of this term, from the perspective of CONAMUNE-Carchi, was intended to integrate the parts involved in the project into a “casa adentro” practice. The minka involved volunteers and communal interventions between CONAMUNE-Carchi, archaeologists, government representatives, and the group of archaeology assistants. At the same time, the performative act of recuperating the old cemetery was conceived “as cleaning the home of the very old ancestors of this community, and bringing living traditions to this old home” (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). In this way, the minka also initiated the process of revitalizing the cemetery from the Afro-Ecuadorian perspective.

Figure 16 Cleaning the graves of the cemetery as part of the minka, La Concepción 2014

The minka took around a month, and the archaeological evaluation of the site was followed by CONAMUNE-Carchi and community members, in a shared experience of studying the history of the cemetery. Initially some general questions were relevant for the protection and restoration of burials, such as the dimensions of the cemetery, an evaluation of the material conditions of each burial, and an inventory of material culture related to the burials. During the archaeological mapping of the cemetery, 192 areas were identified as burials, by the presence of rectangular or square depressions in the ground, with or without headstones (Figure 17).

Figure 17 Cemetery survey, Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, 2014

53 Minka !(2014):!Area!of!Cemetery&

!!!819!250!E !!!819!300!E !!!819!350!E

SymbologyLeyenda %

Area%of%Cemetery% Area del Cementerio

80.16 TumbasBurials%

MuroSouth%Wall% Sur

AreaAreas%with%rocks% con grupo de rocas

0 10 20 30m

62.50 10!066!600!N

50.43

43.25 Est. UPEC 10!066!550!N Escala 1:500 Fuente: Levantamiento Topográfico, UPEC 2014

Map%of%old%cemetery%displaying%192%burials,%registered%during%minka&2014%(Balanzategui%et.%al.%% 2015).%The grave markers are made of rock or clay, some of them with marks displaying Chronological and geographical location of study areas Christian crosses, characters, and iconography that has been referred to us as part of a local tradition (Figure 18). The progress in this first part of the project, established through the collaboration in the minka, was written up as a report entitled “Archaeology of the Old Cemetery, Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo”. The document summarized the results of the survey and archaeological mapping of the cemetery, and states how collaboration between Afro-Ecuadorian communities and archaeology is essential to study sacred places of the African Diaspora. Barbarita Lara (personal communication 2015) describes the “archaeological report” as the evidence of the existence of this historic place for the “authorities and academics”. She points out “we have been talking about the cemetery for years, but the story of a black woman is not listened to”. In the dialogues of this first stage, archaeology has been used an instrument to voice the silenced history of Afro-Ecuadorian women. However, this situation also describes the racial discrimination that Afro-Ecuadorian knowledge and history have been subject to, compared to occidental and scientific knowledge; a process described as the genetics of power (Cortez 2009).

Figure 18 Headstones found in the mapping of the cemetery, Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo

Proposal “Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo”

In this context, the proposal to revitalize the old cemetery of La Concepción The first draft of the proposal, “Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, Revitalization of an Afro-Ecuadorian Cemetery in La Concepción” (Lara et al. 2014) was written between October 2014 and February 2015. Here, I analyze the proposal through the results of the dialogue between the descendant community and scholars in terms of the main goals of the project, future archaeological intervention, and diffusion of the results.

1. Commemoration of Freedom

The African-descendants from La Concepción found in this cemetery a way to memorialize the past of the African Diaspora in Ecuador and commemorate the enslaved population of this ancestral territory. Considering that the cemetery is a place where the past and the interaction of the living community is expressed and brings cultural practices to be learned, CONAMUNE-Carchi proposed that the cemetery become a “Garden of Memory”. Garden as physical and tangible; Memory as the intangible and spiritual channel for a direct connection with the ancestors, where they perpetually reside (Lara et al. 2014). The cemetery is the place where the ancestral memory of the African-descendants is revitalized, preserved and transmitted. The cemetery constitutes material and cognitive heritage within the Ancestral Territory of the African-descendants of the Chota-Mira Valley (Lara et al. 2014). Heritage and territory maintain a dynamic relationship, reflecting a historical interaction between Afro- Ecuadorian communities, as mentioned in the concept of the Ancestral Territory. Barbarita Lara

has expressed the nature of the ancestors as “the spirits that have their home in the cemetery; they are the ancestors, guardians, and teachers; they take care of the living, alleviate sadness, and they have the power to fortify our body and soul”.

One of the main discussions in writing the history about the cemetery has been about slavery and how to transform the narrative into one of healing and identity construction for descendant communities. Taking the archaeological process as one of “remembering, and potentially of forgetting, historical archaeology has a commemorative potential” (Moshenska 2009; Silliman 2008). Moshenka (2009:46) states “the performativity of the archaeological process and the physicality of its findings provide dynamic and material terms for abstract and invisible processes of memory, a ‘roadmap of melancholy and mourning’”. Looking at our archaeological practice from this perspective helped us to find common ground with the objectives of CONAMUNE-Carchi in constructing the Garden of Memory. The women’s organization stated the main objective of remembering and commemorating was to heal the wound of slavery, by reinforcing the process of learning about freedom and resistance (Lara et al. 2014). In a dialogue between Barbarita Lara and the archaeologists, she reminded us that this recuperation is not primarily for an archaeological study, but is a “form of revitalization to make this place a connection to the ancestors, a place of spiritual gathering”.

The CONAMUNE-Carchi representatives also wanted to engage the La Concepción community to find a place not only for commemorating the past, but also to create a symbol of freedom. Therefore, they decided to represent it with the figure of a runaway woman, Martina Carillo. This enslaved African-descendant woman was living in hacienda La Concepción after the expulsion of the Jesuits in1767. In this period, the enslaved population of the valley turned to legal intervention to solve their internal conflicts with the administrators and hacienda owners for violation of their “slave rights”. Martina Carrillo actively participated in the 1778 revolt at hacienda La Concepción. She was part of a committee representing the enslaved community that went to Quito to denounce the owner of the hacienda for treating them cruelly (ANH-Q, Slaves Files, 1778). At her return to the hacienda, she was whipped almost to death. Martina Carrillo has been recognized by the Afro-Ecuadorians as a cimarrona. The term describes the women who escaped from the system of slavery to find their freedom and defend the rights of enslaved people during colonial times (Cortez 2009).

Therefore, some topics are essential for advancing an ethical investigation of the history of the African Diaspora that is relevant for present communities interested in a discussion about

human rights and reparations for slavery as one result of such investigations (Blakey 1997; LaRoche and Blakey 1997; Blakey 2008). In this sense, the history of Martina Carrillo will also challenge the stereotype that the enslaved population in the valley were adapted to slavery and did not react to its injustice. Lara (personal communication 2015) has emphasized the need to write a history that builds on these values. Using this story is a way to connect with present generations, with an emphasis on “what was done to survive and create places of freedom where a history of rootlessness and living in a strange home exists” (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2015). Enslavement is conceived as an imposed system that is not natural to the ancestors. In this way, the stereotype about the African-descendants as an inferior race, fit to be slaves, is destroyed (Balanzátegui 2016).

However, in this proposal, as with other discussions initiated in African Diaspora archaeology, there is little to transform the struggles that African Diaspora communities live with today (Falola 2013). Therefore, archaeological work in this project recognizes that the study of African Diaspora history contributes to recognition and in some sense to a process of rehabilitation, but with the understanding that other aspects of reparation cannot be replaced by our initiatives.

2. Archaeological interventions

A critical debate has been generated about the study of human remains, and the material culture of these sacred places. Leone et. al. (2005) have pointed out that for archaeologists, excavating human remains means “scientific advances or historical salvage from developing destruction” while for the African-Diaspora community it means “disturbing the dead”. In this proposal the archaeology compromised with the community to commemorate the dead by omitting archaeological excavations in the investigation of the history of the cemetery. We have informed the community how archaeological excavation has a destructive physical impact in the material of cemeteries and potential spiritual impact in the descendant communities. If after the results of the first season of investigations in 2016, community members are interested in answering questions that may be answered with the excavation of human remains, an excavation will be proposed. In a second scenario, archaeological excavation would also be proposed if the cemetery or particular burials are compromised by construction work, agriculture, and other human or natural factors.

According to a February 2015 meeting, community opinions related to the excavation of human remains have been diverse. One of the main questions has been the possibility of shedding light on the Atlantic identity of the 17th- 19th century enslaved population and in this it may also be important to refer to the remains of Martina Carillo. According to this meeting, African-descendant representatives expressed their interest in questioning the assumption that only enslaved people were buried in this cemetery, and exploring those interethnic relationships. Therefore the archaeological investigation may only include a survey involving superficial recovery of material culture, mapping, drawing of headstones, and observations about burial conditions, but not only inside the cemetery, and in an area of influence defined within the limits interviewed elders have described as part the old cemetery. Meanwhile, an anthropological investigation has been created to prepare community leaders for investigating the history of this site as part of a proposal of Collaborative Ethnography (Lara et al. 2014), connecting present funerary practices and religious beliefs with the cemetery.

3. Diffusion of Results

As has been pointed out, in previous approaches an ethical procedure for the dissemination of information is also the responsibility of different actors in making the archaeological results comprehensible and available to the public (Marshall 2002). Projects such as the African Burial Ground, Cemitério dos Pretos Novos, and the First Baptist Church cemetery have developed programs for sharing the results within and outside the African Diaspora public, using centres of interpretation or memorials as places to receive these audiences; both descendant communities who are looking for something more than just visiting a touristic place, and also non-African-descendant visitors. The main objective of their display was trying to generate a critical perspective about African Diaspora history for different audiences.

CONAMUNE-Carchi proposed that the garden should include a ceremonial center next to the cemetery as a way to empirically facilitate the spiritual connection with the ancestors and reinforce Afro-Ecuadorian identity for the communities of La Concepción, Afro-Ecuadorian society, and people spiritually connected to the site. This would include the practice of Afro- Ecuadorian rituals, but also other religious practices when their intention is directed at commemorating the Afro-Ecuadorian ancestors or obtaining their blessings (Lara 2014). The main driver of this part of the project is also the program of ethno-education, and the structure of

diffusion that has been mentioned as “casa afuera” (outside the community). The objective is to support the learning that is already active within this program, including knowledge about Martina Carrillo. The Garden would reinforce the knowledge that is already learned and taught within the system of ethno-education and strengthen community attachments to their own history, by providing a way to disseminate the information chosen by the community.

Based on the dialog between CONAMUNE-Carchi, community members and archaeologists, as with many previous archaeological examples, the ceremonial centre would include an interpretive space where the public will be allowed to visit. CONAMUNE-Carchi has also pointed out the impact of tourism may risk the integrity of this sacred place and what it means to the Afro-Ecuadorian population. In the first conversations with CONAMUNE-Carchi, considering this risk, they proposed a revitalization only “casa adentro” for the local communities. However, other projects related to African Diaspora sites have stated how the information from archaeological sites that present information about racial violence and intolerance could be explored and understood by a broader public to promote a fair and equitable society (González-Tennant 2013). Dark tourism, and tourism in places of social inequality, have been employed to talk about racial violence inflicted on African Americans to create a larger discussion within the non- African American public. This idea has underscored the relevance of sharing the results and the experience of the cemetery to a larger audience. This is one of the reasons why a separate room will be used to facilitate the diffusion of results to visitors, with audio-visual material that could give them an idea of this sacred place. They will also be able to observe the cemetery but only outside of the area for its protection.

Reviewing the Proposal

The first version of our proposal, along with an archaeological report, was presented to African Diaspora movements, Ecuadorian government representatives, local governments in La Concepción, the elders whose grandparents are buried in this site, and representatives of Universidad Politécnica Estatal del Carchi (UPEC) in a meeting organized by CONAMUNE- Carchi in La Concepción (2015) (Figure 19). Based on the feedback and comments of the participants at this meeting, a second draft has been developed with long-term objectives (2016- 2024) that involve investment from Afro-Ecuadorian organizations and national and regional public and private entities. In the second version of the proposal the Garden of Memory and its role in the collective memory of the community of La Concepción is still integral to the

discussion, but the relevance for broader Afro-Ecuadorian history is also included. This is the result of a dialogue between different actors within the context of the 2015 meeting that also discussed heritage ownership.

Figure 19 Invitation to participate in the February Meeting to present Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, Elaborated by CONAMUNE-Carchi 2015

Multi-community dialogues

On the morning of February 11th 2015 a ritual inside the old cemetery at La Concepción was performed by African Diaspora spiritual guides, the representatives of various Afro- Ecuadorian communities, and the scholars. The ceremony was executed in order to get the blessings from the ancestors that inhabit this sacred place, and those that are part of the larger community of the African Diaspora. In a syncretic performance, the participants sung melodies from the Coastal Afro-Ecuadorian communities of Esmeraldas, followed a Yoruba ritual, and sung Catholic melodies to invoke the spirit of the ancestors. The spiritual guide informed us that the ancestors were pleased with our work, and blessed the people who were going to give life to this place (Figure 20).

Figure 20 Afroecuadorian ritual before the meeting to present Project Garden of Memory Martina Carrillo, La Concepción 2015. Photography by Ivan Zambarano

After this sacred act, the proposal was presented to African Diaspora movements, Ecuadorian government representatives, local governments of La Concepción, and the elders whose grandparents are buried in this site. Afro-Ecuadorian intellectuals and representatives of the political movements presented the background of ethno-education, African Diaspora knowledge, and the lack of legislation to protect their heritage. When the proposal was presented, everyone present supported the project. This was followed by interventions from each movement and organization to define how they expect to politically and financially support the proposal. As a result of collaboration, the Afro-Ecuadorian movements and intellectuals that participated in the meeting debated the official history of Ecuador, addressed the question of the lack of protection of African Diaspora heritage in national legislation, and talked about historical reparations as part of the recognition of the Afro-Ecuadorian past. The proposal was open to

discussion and dialogue, with input from different groups, organizations, and political figures. . The cemetery is threatened by agricultural and environmental factors, and the various stakeholders requested that the Universidad Politécnica Estatal del Carchi (UPEC) clean up and care for the site to encourage them to preserve the cemetery during the process of approval from all African-descendant communities that form La Concepción parish. Different age groups within the community were deliberately approached in order to express their own feelings and memories about the cemetery, giving meaning to the commemoration, and fostering a sense of belonging. From those meetings representatives from each community formed a group to negotiate and revise the proposal formed by African-descendant representatives, GAD La Concepción, UPEC, government representatives, and funding organizations.

One of the main concerns was the ownership of the site, to define who will take care, protect and manage this heritage. The Universidad Politecnica Estatal del Carchi (UPEC) has defined their participation in the protection of the site as a collaborator to preserve it as an Afro- Ecuadorian heritage. Indeed, part of their objective is to create a network of collaboration between provincial communities and UPEC. During the February 2015 meeting, the Afro- Ecuadorian movements and communities expressed their total commitment to develop the project and declare themselves as owners of this heritage, with CONAMUNE-Carchi members as guardians of the site. Considering this sacred place as heritage not as a private property, but as a Garden of Memory. The various communities also supported Martina Carrillo’s role as symbol of the Garden, reaffirming the Afro-Ecuadorian identity of this place andownership of this heritage. Martina Carrillo was also chosen as a symbol for the preservation of the site as part of a claim of ownership by the descendant community. As a way to formalize the intentions and process of recognition of this heritage, the “Declaration on the Safeguarding of the Garden of Memory, Martina Carrillo, Historical Afro-Ecuadorian Cemetery in La Concepción, Afro- Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley”15 was signed by all the participants who had taken part in the February 2015 meeting.

15 This declaration is based in the original document titled “Declaration on the Safeguarding of Indigenous Ancestral Burial Grounds as Sacred Sites and Cultural Landscapes”, IPINCH 2015

What is learned and what is left…

From various examples, when cemeteries are approached by archaeologists, the researchers, often through pressure from descendant communities, have developed relationships between archaeology and the African Diaspora community at different levels. Communities have been included in roles ranging from oral informants to ethical clients and partners (Eberwine Jr 2005, Roberts and McCarthy 1995). For instance the minimal consultation and mismanagement in projects such as the African Burial Ground in Manhattan was transformed into collaboration by the intervention of the descendant community (Blakey 1997, 2008, 1998; Silliman and Ferguson 2010). In La Concepción collaboration was established two years before the revitalization of the Garden of Memory began. The project integrates archaeology, as a source of investigation and support for advocacy, as a consequence of building a relationship between the descendant community, CONAMUNE-Carchi and the scholars. Our learning and trust-building moved from daily conversations, into working together in archaeological and ethnographic research, and finally to participation in projects “casa- adentro” (inside the community), which allowed us to develop a strong relationship of collaboration (González-Tennant 2014). This also meant our knowledge and comprehension of the Afro-Ecuadorian past regularly came up for debate. Between 2012 and 2013, some members of the community doubted our intentions and discouraged us from continuing with the investigation because “people were tired of letting outsiders take their knowledge”. They prevented elders from participating in the interviews, and people would not let us enter to their properties for archaeological surveys. As the project proceeded these same community members came to work together with us on the investigation of the Afro-Ecuadorian past in La Concepción. These initial challenges were overcome by conversations and respectful archaeological work. The first two years the archaeologists were looking for potential partners, instead of only consulting the descendants, refining the initial proposal with the topics the community were interested in exploring. This process also demonstrates that historical archaeologists today do not need to start their investigations from zero, when the descendant community already has a vast knowledge about their past (Wylie 2015).

This project also demonstrates the level of engagement of not only the local community of La Concepción, but national and regional Afro-Ecuadorian movements and organizations as well. The participation of these communities to recuperate the cemetery contradicts the idea that regional cemeteries have less political influence (Roberts and McCarthy 1995; McCarthy 2008)

compared to nationally known cemeteries (Blakey 2008, 1997). Regional-scale cemeteries, such as La Concepción have an influence on the history of national and global descendant communities, dealing with racism, and respect for their spiritual ancestors (Blakey 2008, 1997). We intend through this study, and encourage for African diaspora archaeology in general, a discussion of archaeological practices and interpretations that foreground critical race theories, in order to create a more democratic archaeology (Barton and Markert 2012; Franklin and Paynter 2010; González-Tennant 2014; McDavid 1997, 2002). For instance, archaeologists of the African Diaspora discuss how the contribution of public, collaborative, and decolonizing archaeological practice has historically prioritized the protection of pre-contact indigenous remains compared to African Diaspora sacred places, even if African-descendant communities were also affected by colonial slavery, and current racial structures. These experiences have also brought our attention to the gaps in national and regional regulations intended to protect historical cemeteries, including those of the African Diaspora. These questions are part of the debate generated in Ecuador. However, the Afro-Ecuadorian population that participated in the February 2015 meeting, through an intercultural perspective, have demonstrated their interest in learning more about the interaction of Afro-Ecuadorians and indigenous peoples during the colonial period. The cemetery has the potential to promote a dialogue that includes actors from different cultural and epistemological backgrounds to discuss colonialism from an intercultural perspective.

The majority of African Diaspora cemeteries that archaeologists have dealt with have been the result of cultural resource management projects that identify burials that could potentially be impacted by urban redevelopment or construction projects (Eberwine Jr 2005). Usually both objects and human remains are archaeologically excavated and removed to avoid construction delays. This project has demonstrated that the opportunity to practice public and community archaeology with a more ethical approach to Ecuadorian sacred places was possible because this project was not related to cultural resource management. Ecuadorian archaeology is constantly facing the looting of historical places and the lack of professional archaeologists to rescue affected material culture and human remains. The large majority of Ecuadorian archaeologists try to overcome this problem by supporting approaches with minimal community participation, responding to time and budget pressures. Therefore, a future challenge is to see if the standards followed by the investigators in terms of community involvement and partnership in this project could be adjusted to CRM approaches in Ecuador when African Diaspora, Indigenous and other historical cemeteries are at risk.

Collaborative Archaeology constitutes a powerful instrument to advocate for respect and recognition of Afro-Ecuadorian heritage. Initially, one of the main steps in our project was the presentation of the cemetery as an archaeological site to the National Institute of Heritage. This was a traditional archaeological approach, but instead of using its archaeological value as the main reason to protect the site, the proposal instead emphasized how Afro-Ecuadorians have decided to manage their heritage (Blakey 1997, 2008; LaRoche and Blakey 1997). The proposal reaffirms that African Diaspora communities have both the traditional and academic knowledge to define the standards and interpretations to manage their cultural heritage (Blakey 1997, 2008, 1998). Ethnographic research in La Concepción with elders and community representatives has also shed light on a different meaning assigned to heritage compared to the standard national concept of heritage. The people living in La Concepción see their heritage as a group of cultural and ancestral entities that should be incorporated into daily activities through processes of preservation, abandonment, destruction and commemoration. Therefore, there are still many topics of discussion that require a deeper dialogue. Overall, the Garden of Memory is just a first step towards greater recognition of African Diaspora heritage in Ecuador.

Collaborative archaeology within the context of African Diaspora communities in Latin America questions the privileged position of scholars to write about the history of descendant communities. As this project describes, trust building was part of a process that took two years to see results; this also reflects how the community perceives white-mestizo scholars. What we think of as “initial obstacles” to research are also reminders of social structures that prevail in Ecuador and other Latin American countries. Afro-Ecuadorian populations are still affected by racial practices that historically silence their past. As Barbarita Lara insists each time she explains the history of the project, “when we talked to the universities and authorities about the existence of a cemetery in this place, no one heard us. Who would hear a black woman! We had to wait for the archaeologist to come and validate our story” (personal communication 2015). Understanding our complicity in this social construction is the first step that makes possible future dialogues and practices within the context of a more democratic and collaborative archaeology.

Chapter 4. Narratives of the Afro-Ecuadorian Historial Landscape in La Concepción (Carchi-Ecuador) 16

Abstract

This article explores the Afro-Ecuadorian past, from the perspective of the point of discord with official history and the encounter with the diasporic historical landscape, “other landscapes” in the community of La Concepción in the “Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Valley of the Chota-Mira” (Carchi-Ecuador). The construction of a white-mestizo history of Ecuador integrates the Afro-Ecuadorian past into it, along with the material heritage and culture, while maintaining its colonial condition of slave, exploited and black past. Nevertheless, these other historic landscapes are particularly invigorated by the management of material, preserved, destroyed, abandoned, heritage status, and revitalized culture in La Concepción. In these other landscapes, Afro-Ecuadorians consciously and unconsciously make use of the official historical discourse and the practices of heritage protection. This process is possible in a diasporic, Maroon (cimarrón), rhizomatic, changing and unending landscape, in Glissant’s terms.

Keywords: Afro-Ecuadorian historical landscape, Afro-Ecuadorian archaeology, Marronage (cimarronaje), La Concepción, Glissant.

16 This article will be submitted in Spanish to Chungara Revista de Antropología Chilena , http://www.chungara.cl

Juan García colocó delante de mi asombro la cabeza Tolita de un negro indiscutible precolombina, previa, precursora, precoz, prevaleciente… …desde ese instante ya éramos casi toda la tribu en pie de guerra contra los historiadores, contra su historia, contra su silencio17

“Poema para ser Analizado con Carbono 14”, Antonio Preciado, Afro-Ecuadorian poet from Esmeraldas

Introduction

From school books, the history of Ecuador has cultivated a feeling of patriotism based on fictitious and documented feats by criollos (colonial term for Spanish descendants born in America) and later white-mestizo heroes of Independence, presidents, and liberators that have defended and built the Ecuadorian nation (Luna 2000; Rahier 1998). According to these narratives, Ecuador is made up of a largely mestizo population, represented by the history of these heroes that sprung from the unified and cosmogonic race of European and pre-Columbian indigenous origins, as well as an indigenous minority as a result of the colony that is seen as disconnected from the pre-Columbian past (De la Cadena 2004, 2006; Stepan 1991). There were no references to a population of African-descendants, and things like slavery, migrations from Africa, palenques18, maroons19, or the African-descendant men and women that participated in the struggles for Independence were never spoken about. Through songs,

17 Juan García put in front of my amazement the Tolita head of an indisputable black man pre-Columbian, previous, precursor, premature, prevailing… … since that moment we already were almost all the tribe in a war against historians, against their history against their silence (my translation)

18 Palenques are Afro-descendent communities that lived in freedom starting in the colonial period. In colonial Ecuador, there were mainly found in the province of Esmeraldas. 19 The term “maroon” (cimarrón) refers to men and women that have fought for the freedom of the Afro- Ecuadorian people through revolt, denunciation and daily resistance since colonial times.

refrains, children’s stories and television advertisements, the Afro-Ecuadorian population was represented with racist images. These became incorporated into the Ecuadorian imaginary, stressing the superiority of a white-mestizo society over a wild, more eroticized and more feared “other” (Martinez Novo and De la Torre 2010; Rahier 1999). Approaches to the descendants of Africans would be based on parameters of denial and dehumanization (Beck et al. 2008; Stutzman 1974; Rahier 1999). Their presence in the national imaginary, their history and their narrative capacity was violently annihilated (Trouillot 1995; Sider y Smith 1997). In this way, official historic narratives from white-mestizo society and other hegemonic forms of writing and classifying the national past —to which archaeology has also successfully contributed (Gnecco 2002; Curtoni and Politis 2006; Benavides 2005, 2009)— are mechanisms that place indigenous peoples and African-descendants under social and racial structures that we have been taught to consider natural.

However, this narrative that has been recognized as “History” with a capital “H” and labeled “official”, is not different from other stories, except in the way that Trouillot (1995) points out: their “pretension of truth”. There is also evidence of protest forms and of those that appropriate History to legitimize these “other histories” (Benavides 2005). This article starts with an exploration of the dynamics of the formation of historic narrative that I have called African- descendant historic and archaeological landscapes. Histories and practices of material culture management have been strategically used to confront colonial imaginaries and current stereotypes about Afro-Ecuadorians of both genders that lead to exclusion, isolation and dehumanization. Through this analysis, we see how these strategies take place in dialogue with official histories and practices, stories, ideas about heritage and ancestral knowledge. Eventually, the reach of this narrative is established. To this end, I recur to participation in archaeological and anthropological collaboration projects and to conversations with elders, leaders and intellectuals of the African-descendant community of La Concepción, the seat of the parish of the same name, located in the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley (Carchi-Ecuador) (Figure 1). Since 2012, two projects have been carried out in La Concepción co-directed by the anthropologist Ana María Morales (UNSAM, Buenos Aires): the “Proyecto Colaboración Arqueológica y Antropológica de la Diáspora Africana” [African Diaspora Archaeological and Anthropological Collaboration Project] and the “Proyecto Jardín De La Memoria Martina Carrillo: Revitalización de un Cementerio del Siglo XVIII de los Afroecuatorianos” [Martina Carrillo Memory Garden Project: Revitalization of an 18th Century Afro-Ecuadorian Cemetery]. Both projects are carried out in collaboration with CONAMUNE

(Coordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras / National Coordinating Committee of Black Women),Carchi Chapter, and the Autonomous Decentralized Government (GAD, in Spanish) of La Concepción.

The population of African descent arrived by force to the territory of the Real Audiencia of Quito starting in conquest period of the 16th century until the end of the 18th century (Bryant 2005; Lane 2000). They were located in two territories between the south-east of Colombia and the north-east of Ecuador that drop down along the Santiago River towards the Chota-Mira Valley. These territories are recognized today as Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territories (Walsh and García Salazar 2010). La Concepción was one of eight Jesuit haciendas that produced sugar cane in the Chota-Mira Valley and employed the African-descendant population for work in sugar plantations and mills (1582-1767) (Coronel 1991). In the Chota-Mira Valley, this exploitative practice continues even after the abolition of slavery (1851), and is joined to the Andean huasipungo20 system (Bouisson 1997). The isolation of places like the valley was an additional cause of continued slave exploitation up until the 70s.

Preserved, Destroyed and Abandoned Landscapes

In the community of La Concepción, it can be observed that different perceptions of the past co-exist, including the memories of “senior citizens”21, the State’s heritage protection projects, and other projects of historical material culture revitalization fostered by the CONAMUNE, Carchi Chapter. The seniors remember their life in the hacienda system, the process of fighting for their rights as Ecuadorian citizens, and the elimination of the sugar estates in the 1970s. I have chosen examples of several settings that represent part of the history that the seniors remember and that represent emblematic moments in La Concepción.

20 Under this system, indigenous people were granted land parcels by a landowner in exchange for their labour. 21 The term “senior citizen” (adulto mayor) is defined within the parameters of the Agenda for Equality for Senior Adults 2012-2013 (Ministerio de Inclusión Económica y Social [Ministry of Economic and Social Inclusion], 2012) and refers to those older than 65 years of age.

Several monuments, architectural structures and objects related to the Catholic religion and directly connected to the time of the Jesuits have been preserved. The church structure, now reconstructed in La Concepción, is the main church in the parish (Figure 21). It houses several sculptures of the Quito School of the 18th century and other contemporary sculptures of saints and divinities, all well conserved. It is also believed that the Jesuit priests were buried behind the church, reaffirming the relationship between this building and this religious order (Senior Citizen, personal communication 2014). The seniors tell the history of these buildings starting in a distant past of the “Jesuit Fathers” as the most distant moment with respect to the present (Senior Citizens, personal communications 2014) 22. This stage is related to the idea of an instructive and benevolent Church. In one of the testimonies from the seniors from the 1980s in La Concepción23, the Jesuits are spoken of as saints, not enslavers. The population of La Concepción has appropriated the popular Catholic religiosity shared at a national level and recognizes the Jesuits and the missionaries that transmitted the doctrine, leading to the conservation of material culture related to this part of the history of the Chota-Mira Valley.

Figure 21 Jesuit church in La Concepcion, 2012. Photography by Mateo Ponce

22 Some senior adults preferred to not be identified and are instead identified with Senior Adult, interview and year. 23 Fondo Afroecuatoriano [Afro-Ecuadorian Fund] at the Universidad Andina Simón Bolivar -Quito

In the memory of the seniors, after the Jesuits came the time “of the hacienda and the patrones”, corresponding in the historical register to the transition from a Jesuit estate to private property (1767). The seniors tell of a time of labour exploitation and of attack on the human rights of their families (Senior Citizens, personal communication 2013). This stage would end with the interventions of resistance by Afro-Ecuadorian peasants that in the 1960s resulted in the Agrarian Reform (1965) that made official the right to private hacienda property in the Chota-Mira Valley (Bouisson 1997; Zambrano Murillo 2010). This period is associated with the destruction of the hacienda building (the big house). This house and the mill next to it were used until the mid-90s at which point the space where these buildings were located was sold to the community (Folleco 2009). The house and the mill were abandoned until 2005. In that year, two administrative buildings from the Parish Board and CONAMUNE-Carchi, Oshun refuge, were built along with a museum named Casa de los Abuelos (House of the Grandparents). According to Barbarita Lara, a member of the CONAMUNE, “people didn’t care about the hacienda house getting wrecked”24 (personal communication 2014). The only part left of the hacienda was a wall, because it separated the space from the houses next to it (Figure 22). The destruction of the hacienda house, as many people in La Concepción say, was not planned, but clearly its destruction could represent a form of eradicating the painful memory of slavery associated with life in the hacienda. Even the hymn of La Concepción parish underlines that “Nunca más será esclava tu sangre, pues tus hijos sabrán defenderte [Never again will your blood be enslaved, for your sons will know how to defend you]” (Folleco 2009). This type of abandonment and destruction differs from the abandonment of “old houses” that are abundant in La Concepción. It should be clarified that what is called “abandonment” in this text —the leaving behind of material culture and inactive buildings in the landscape— is a complex cultural process, to revisit the reflection of Colwell, Chamthaphonh and Ferguson (2006b). When we refer to abandonment, we do not mean that the descendant population has become disconnected from its past or that it has given up its ancestral places.

24 All translations from original Spanish sources are by Ross Swanson, unless otherwise noted.

Figure 22 Remaining wall of the old hacienda house in La Concepción, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez

The abandonment of houses since the 1970s has occurred mainly as an effect of migration to the city, a phenomenon that has left entire towns in abandon. Unlike the intentional destruction of the hacienda house, abandonment permits temporary conservation, allowing the structure to come to an end naturally. Thus, the abandoned houses with mud walls and tiled roofs are called “old houses” and are not immediately destroyed. This allows the memories of “old inhabitants”, migrants that occasionally return to La Concepción, to coexist with the new, every-day cement buildings of those who “stayed”. The children still play in the abandoned houses that also become new pathways, shortcuts, and garbage heaps (Figure 23).

Figure 23 Abandoned house, La Concepción, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez

One of the examples related to the process of abandonment during the last thirty years is Carchi Station (Figure 24). Between the 1940s and the 1960s, the hacienda workers of La Concepción, and perhaps others in the area, participated in the construction of the Northern Railway (Ferrocarril del Norte) and built Carchi Station by the banks of the Mira river. Several families that found work in train, rail, and station maintenance and other commercial activities would live in this building. As part of the national project in force since the mid-19th century, the Northern Railway route was one of the late attempts at regional union that attempted to include isolated sectors, mainly large land-owners of the highlands rather than indigenous people and African-descendants (Whitten 1992). The construction of the railway was also clearly aimed at modernization, under a program of industrial conquest of the landscape that had arrived a little late to the valley (Clark 2001). For the African-descendant communities of the parish, it became a stepping-stone for connections with other Afro-Ecuadorian communities of the province of Esmeraldas and the Andean cities. (La Concepción personal communication 2014).

Additionally, the relations established with the indigenous and mestizo population that organized to end the huasipungo system are strengthened with the railway. In 1965, the allocation of properties was formalized under the national Agrarian Reform law. Seen from this perspective, Carchi Station, which stopped working at the end of the 1980s, is a symbol of freedom that the community treasures in its memory and that demands commemoration (Morales 2016). With the construction of the inter-regional Pan-American highway and better communication possibilities came an increase in migration, especially to Quito (Pabón 2007a). The train stopped working and Carchi Station became a town of abandoned houses.

Figure 24 Carchi Station Community, 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez

Finally, in the outskirts of the current settlement is an old cemetery, called the old pantheon. This cemetery is possibly from the time of the Jesuits, but was mainly used by slaves according to an archaeological study (Figure 25). Nevertheless, the site was used by the inhabitants until 80 years ago when the place was abandoned and another cemetery was built. For the seniors, the abandonment of the cemetery involves certain silences: no response is given about why this process occurred, and the memory of those buried there is progressively

more obscure. Since its abandonment, the cemetery became overgrown with dense and spiny vegetation until it was revitalized by CONAMUNE-Carchi in 2005 and came to fulfil another purpose explained later in this article.

Figure 25 Walking inside of the old cemetery of La Concepción, 2014. Photography by Ana María Morales

Heritage Landscapes

Over the last decade, in an initiative driven by the government, the Ecuadorian National Institute of Cultural Heritage has included several structures in La Concepción in its database of historic sites that are part of the material heritage recognized at a national level. The Ministry of Culture and Heritage is clear about the concept of cultural heritage: “Material cultural heritage is the cultural inheritance from a community’s past that is of special historic, artistic, architectural,

urban or archaeological interest”25. As such, part of the inventory are sites like the church, Carchi Station and several houses that have been recorded as traditional mud bahereque buildings26. There are also several attempts at restoring Carchi Station by the local government and projects at the state level. The policy of heritage recovery, under the railway restoration project led by the Ministries of Tourism and Culture, aims to re-establish symbols of national unity. The restored stations follow the same construction pattern and the hope is that the population related to the restorations will recreate cultural traditions; in this case “Afro traditions”. However, the station, which is still standing, is actively commemorated every August. The few inhabitants of Carchi Station have stated that they prefer to restore the station to continue the yearly festival days as an act of identity revitalization; this does not concur with the national parameters for station restoration (Carchi Station inhabitant, personal communication 2014). These initiatives of restoration and heritage registration are part of inclusion policies that define the Ecuadorian state’s multicultural program.

Landscapes of Historical Reparation

The National Coordinating Committee of Black Women (CONAMUNE-Carchi) has strategically used the opening of the national government over the last decade as a political platform to propose, at the national level, a process of historical reparations for the Afro- Ecuadorian population. Since 1999, when CONAMUNE was formed, a political policy has been formed that attempts to rescue the Afro-Ecuadorian people’s historic strategies of survival and resistance to the dehumanization of their history. Barbarita Lara (personal communication 2014) points out that:

Historical reparation comes from the construction of collective rights… particularly for African-descendants and Afro-Ecuadorians…. knowing the past to create a foundation of their rights as a people, because the people have lived under permanent denial, in permanent invisibility in which they were not considered human beings.

25 Official website of the Ecuadorian Ministry of Culture and Heritage http://www.culturaypatrimonio.gob.ec/patrimonio-cultural/ 26 Database of the National Institute of Cultural Heritage http://www.inpc.gob.ec/sistema-de-informacion- para-la-gestion-de-bienes-culturales-abaco

The structure proposed for the practice of transmitting this history and the reparation strategies is called “in-home, out-of-home” (casa adentro, casa afuera). In other words, “in- home” works to strengthen the internal knowledge of the past in the Afro-Ecuadorian communities to later, “out-of-home,” take this history to the “others” as a way of encouraging respect for their history. (Barbarita Lara personal communication 2015). Three projects have been carried out in La Concepción under this logic: the establishment of the ethno-education project, the Casa de los Abuelos, and the recovery of the old cemetery, known as the “Martina Carrillo Memory Garden Project” (Lara et al. 2014).

Ethno-education is a “cultural, social, epistemic and political process…in the investigative framework of oral memory, jealously guarded by ancestors, with the hope of returning it to those who wish to make oral memory into an ancestral practice” (Pabón 2009; Brown 2012). Furthermore, ethno-education is a “direct response to structural racism that corrodes the educational system in Ecuador and that has systematically harmed African- descendants for centuries in terms of access and representation” (Zambrano Murillo 2010: 65). In this context, in 2006, the “Oral Tradition School” (Escuela de Tradición Oral – ETOVA) was created. It investigates and records Afro-Ecuadorian oral memory in writing (Barbarita Lara personal communication 2014). One of the programs put into place by the ethno-education proposal has been the publication of school and educational texts about the past, history and oral tradition of Afro-Ecuadorians for communities with an African-descendant majority, as is the case for the communities of the Chota-Mira Valley. This program has recently been included as part of the national program for intercultural education (Meetings on Ethno-Education, personal communication 2016). The ethno-education texts highlight the history of the African Diaspora: starting with their African origins, they tell the story of the Atlantic crossing and their arrival to colonial Ecuador. This history emphasizes the diasporic past as a base of Afro-Ecuadorian history.

With the Casa de los Abuelos, CONAMUNE opened other avenues for learning about historical revitalization in the parish seat of La Concepción based on the ethno-education program and the in-home, out-of-home strategy (Figure 26). Established in 2005, the Casa de los Abuelos is a two-room structure that houses objects collected by the community and built with mud bahereque walls and tiles in the style of houses built in the region since the mid-20th century. The inhabitants of La Concepción refer to the Casa as a museum and objects defined as “old” that are no longer used or scarcely used in the present and that represent day-to-day

life and the exploitation of the hacienda system are included in it. In this space, we find clothing, such as hats of workers, women’s skirts, photographs of the 1970s, kitchen utensils such as clay jars, metal pots and corn mills (metates), instruments for working on the plantation such as picks and hoes and instruments of punishment, such as whips. These objects are displayed in the open, not behind glass, allowing the visitors, both community members and outsiders, to interact directly with the material culture.

Also in the Casa de los Abuelos is a remnant of Ecuadorian collecting: a window display holding ceramic objects culturally associated with pre-Columbian Pasto that have been mostly found in plantations and gardens of the parish, along with other donations (Barbarita Lara personal communication 2014). These objects have been called “objects of the infidels” in the community. The word “infidel” not only establishes the identity of ancient indigenous peoples, it distances the people “without religion” (referring to the non-Catholic population) from the peoples instructed in Catholicism. The identity of these objects is also conceptualized based on the monetary value assigned to this heritage under the development of a national collections network (Calero 2015). When the prehispanic objects do not have monetary value, they are incorporated into the day-to-day life of the inhabitants. One of the objects frequently found in La Concepción homes are the bases of Pasto dishes that have been used as candleholders, and referred to as mecheros (burners). The pieces of dishes and other objects, including shards of obsidian and ceramic fragments, were not included as part of the collection of the Casa de los Abuelos. The population of La Concepción does not relate Pasto objects to the indigenous population that lives in nearby communities; as a result, the national imaginary, that separates the pre-Columbian past and the modern indigenous population, is replicated. The constant pressure to construct authentic and exotic national symbols is shown in this display window. Nevertheless, the preservation of pre-Columbian objects establishes a stranger connection with the past before “us”; the seniors recognize their presence pointing out that “those infidels lived right here, they were here first” (Senior Citizen, personal communication 2013). A feeling of empathy with the indigenous people that were later affected by the same colonial process can be perceived. Therefore, the process driven by the Casa de los Abuelos implies a reflection on a past of cultural interaction between indigenous peoples and African-descendants (Figure 26).

Figure 26 Guided visit in Casa de los Abuelos, La Concepción, 2012

Finally, the Martina Carrillo Memory Garden is a recent project for commemorating the past in which we actively participated through the practice of collaborative archaeology. This is the place where the ancestors of several haciendas of the parish of La Concepción rest and where the maroons of the former hacienda are buried. This is why the name Martina Carrillo was chosen in honour of one of the maroon women that escaped from La Concepción hacienda in the 19th century to denounce the abuse of the enslaved community (Lara et al. 2014). The recovery of sites and material culture related to Afro-Ecuadorian culture aims to re-establish, to a certain extent, the life-cycle of these objects. In the case of the cemetery, the objective is to return the space to Afro-Ecuadorian men and women so that they can practice their spirituality in it (Barbarita Lara personal communication 2015).

Discussion: The Other Landscapes…

The historical African-descendant narrative can be understood from the community of La Concepción since, after the crossing of the Atlantic, the memory of the plantation is the second

landscape of rhizomatic identity construction of the African diaspora (Gilroy 1993; Glissant and Wing 1997; Hall 1991; de Souza and Agostini 2012). Glissant explains that the rhizome, as part of the process of Creolization of the Carribean, is a network that forms without permanent roots (Glissant and Wing 1997:68). Therefore, the rhizomatic identities of the African-descendants are relational, diffuse and dynamic, challenging the idea of a totalitarian and essential cultural root (Glissant and Wing 1997; Glissant 2002). In this sense, when we speak of landscapes like La Concepción, we see that the formation process of these narratives is not directly focussed on Africa as a center of its history, rather they are put forward in a relational way with respect to the territory imagined and created in the Ecuadorian diaspora. The African origin is linked to a process initiated by Afro-Ecuadorian intellectuals and leaders like Barbarita Lara (personal communication 2015) who expresses it as follows: “what the African root does is allow us to reassert a sense of belonging” for the Afro-Ecuadorian population. The Afro-Ecuadorian intellectual and investigative movement that drives that historical narrative surrounding the African origin as base of identity began in the 1980s, mainly through the ethnographic and political work of the Afro-Ecuadorian leader and intellectual from Esmeraldas, Juan García, a director of the ethno-education program. Based on the school texts from this program that narrate extracts of African and diasporic history, we see that the Afro-Ecuadorian historical landscape goes beyond the national borders. It is imagined in terms of displacement and mobility since the origin of its identity is found in the relationship between Africa, the Atlantic, and the ancestral territory.

Secondly, the ancestral territory is considered from the point of view of marronage, which is established in relation to the landscape of the colonial plantation. In the hacienda, a sense of freedom from the slavery process, from national isolation is suggested. At the same time, the African-descendants are freeing themselves from the process of conquest and from the violence exerted on their bodies, starting with the re-appropriation of the hacienda in this setting. The hacienda of La Concepción, like others in the Chota-Mira Valley, are the first territorial spaces in which community organization processes, daily and collective resistance, and escape and survival strategies occurred. Because of this, after the expulsion of the Jesuits (1767), African-descendant families denounce the dismemberment of their communities. In the historic documents of denunciation found in the National Historic Archive (Quito branch), the hacienda owners are accused of separating families with the sale of the properties.

The hacienda, not only La Concepción, but all the territory that was affected starting with the colonial conquest, is imagined and appropriated by the African-descendant communities in processes of resistance and liberation. In this way, the rhizomatic landscape gives rise to another history, unofficial and transmitted in the oral tradition as a base of the Afro-diasporic communities. The appropriation of the hacienda, especially starting in the 60s after the Agrarian Reform and the end of exploitation through the hacienda system, allows them to challenge the idea of the linearity and irreversibility of time (Hamilakis and Labanyi 2008, Silliman 2009; Cipolla 2008). The material culture bears witness to these processes.

Thus, in the ancestral territory, a narrative is established in which historical practices are promoted along with symbols of union, freedom and identity revitalization of the diasporic population. The ancestral territory has several dimensions: it is the entity that connects the diaspora’s desires for political freedom and resists geo-political national limitations with the goal of defending the existence of a space-time, since the diaspora has historically imagined itself in displacement and mobility across Africa, the Atlantic and the Americas (Gilroy 1993; Hall et al. 1990). According to Walsh and García (2010), the territory of south-west Colombia and north- east Ecuador, and the territories that drop down from the Santiago river toward the Chota-Mira Valley are part of this territory where, historically, Afro-Ecuadorians have related as part of the deserved historical reparation for their uprooting from Africa. The physical and heritage recovery of the cemetery reveals the rationality of how a historic site can be included in a process of historical recovery in the context of Afro-Ecuadorian ancestral territory. CONAMUNE-Carchi, searching since its beginnings for spaces of identity appropriation, returned to the old cemetery of La Concepción that was abandoned for some 80 years. The cemetery was thought of from the beginning as a settlement of the Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory. The colonial system, and later the national system, imposed these geopolitical limits so that slavery and later exploitation of peripheral populations would work and could be read and imagined as stable and natural entities. However, the tradition of mobility and the process of constant resistance to slavery and the desire for freedom are characteristics that opened spaces of physical and mental escape in this territory. As has been noted, since their arrival to the valley in the 16th century, the African-descendant population of La Concepción created networks between enslaved and maroon communities, emphasizing the ancestry that united them to the Andean territory based on strategies of survival of slavery, transmission of traditional knowledge, and values that have allowed them to build and maintain their Afro-Ecuadorian identity over the last 300 years (Walsh and García 2015). This is how it was decided to recover the history of the old

cemetery as a space of historical reparation and spiritual healing. Furthermore, the cemetery project, as well as other aspects incorporated in the proposals developed by CONAMUNE- Carchi, establishes a reinterpretation of the Afro-Ecuadorian past from the viewpoint of the African Diaspora. Barbarita (personal communication 2014) says that, “they didn’t teach us this history about our gods, so we have to come and learn it now, investigating and going through the past of other populations of the diaspora”. For this reason, the cemetery was conceived of as a “pantheon of deities and ancestors” referring to the pantheon of the Yoruba Orishas. Clearly, the Afro-Ecuadorian leaders of CONAMUNE-Carchi promote projects in the ancestral territory of the Chota-Mira valley that are related to this historical landscape, but that at the same time can surpass the limits of the hacienda. They depart from it in relational terms that reconsider slavery and debate exploitation from the standpoint of marronage. These projects reflect political goals of historical reparation, but above all, they are part of the fight for the recognition of the rights of Afro-Ecuadorian women and men (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014).

In the ancestral territory where these other historic and archaeological landscapes are constructed, different historical narrative practices co-exist. They are not only those of historical revitalization like the narratives of the cemetery but also the acts of preservation, destruction, abandonment and conversion into heritage. In this other landscape, the unexpected violence of coloniality and slavery can be observed along with the construction of imaginaries around the African-descendant population beginning in the colonial period. During this period, the idea and the practice of African-descendants as a race for exploitation developed (Coronel 1991). With the formation of the Republic in the 19th century, indigenous peoples, peasants, poor mestizos, and the African-descendant population are represented by “indianness” and the “underdevelopment” that they had to overcome in order to evolve as a white-mestizo nation (De la Cadena 2000; Rahier y Dougé-Prosper 2014). This would require the incorporation of values, forms of knowledge and cultural practices that would validate their status as citizens and extract them from the “backwardness”, negritude, and “indianness” (Cadena 2000). However, the possibility of indigenous groups and African-descendants belonging “completely” to the white- mestizo nation was not a goal of the nation-state which creates a condition of “fragmented individuals”, as a “historical aberration” or “ultimate others” (Rahier 1999:75). This encounter with colonial imaginaries and those related to the formation of the nation-state materialize today in popular Ecuadorian discourse that pigeon-holes the African-descendant population as only fit for sports and “the arts”. They are related to “exotic or pejorative and marginal or invisible”

representations (Zambrano Murillo 2010:65). In this way, one of the “Afro” representations that symbolizes their artistic abilities affirms their natural talent for music; this is related to the UNESCO’s declaration of the “marimba” as intangible cultural heritage (Minda 2014). These imaginaries prevail by choosing symbols that represent the characteristics of this social group as authentic and original, stressing the slavery as a constitutive and naturalized part of their history (Wilkins 2014). This narrative has left us with stereotypes about the African-descendant population that many Ecuadorians accept as real and naturalized. Thus, the attempt to convert several houses, buildings and the train station in La Concepción into heritage must be seen from the hegemonic act that attempts to return the “other pasts”, the “other landscapes”, landscapes naturalized as “black”, where “blacks” live and are, under the logic of conquered landscapes, subordinated and highly racialized. Jamieson (2014) has already observed that the Andean hacienda is a space and concept in which the national racial conscience has been memorialized. In these cases, it can be observed that in this process there is a tendency toward a separation between heritage, symbols, histories and Afro-Ecuadorian culture on the one hand and the current African-descendant population on the other. This makes it possible to include this other authentic and somewhat folkloric “other”, ignoring the origin and effect of the colonial imaginaries in these classifications. However, even so, the very act of making heritage by the nation-state is limited to national recognition while the “in-home” recognition is discussed and challenged. For the authorities of the Decentralized Autonomous Government of La Concepción, the making of heritage goes hand in hand with the socio-economic conditions of the community. It would make the isolation, the history of rootlessness, and the still-existing conditions of bare survival in the Chota-Mira Valley visible. The historical narratives that intersect in the landscape of La Concepción debate the impermeability of official history, but also demonstrate a super-human effort from the populations that have experienced severe exploitation, surviving slave trafficking, colonialism, and post-abolition slavery. The abandonment of entire towns, “ghost towns” in La Concepción parish, reflect new diasporas, hundreds of families forced to migrate to the cities due to a lack of resources and their historic resistance to the isolation in which they had been confined since colonial times.

The ancestral existence in the territory of the valley is conceived in relation with a pre- Columbian past. The Casa de los Abuelos establishes an ordering of time according to the chronological stages of the official history. The recovery of the pre-Columbian objects following the idea of a museum re-establishes the order imposed by collecting practices at a national level. The practice of clearly separating objects from their descendants has its effects in La

Concepción. However, it does so as part of a nuanced discourse in which an intercultural dialogue is re-established, that “respects the other”, as Barbarita Lara explains, and in which the space of old objects of the community is shared with those of the pre-Columbian indigenous peoples in the Casa de los Abuelos. In the setting outside of the museum, the pre-Columbian objects are re-used, given other names, are used as ornaments, and become objects that “were used in the old days” like the mecheros. This finding of the pre-Columbian object under the gaze of the African-descendant population establishes temporal and identity-related distances. It reproduces the official narrative of periodization and symbolization of mestizaje in the recovery of pre-Columbian objects

Furthermore, the material culture and the places of La Concepción that are experiencing an attempt at integration as part of national cultural heritage are also part of the process of the encounter with modernity. Nora (1996) explains how there is a rupture between the spaces of memory starting in modernity that have been part of daily life and lived existence and how it is replaced by places where a residual feeling of continuity with the past exists, through reconstruction and the construction of monuments. The preserved sites, like the Jesuit church, are in some ways the clearest examples of the effects of colonialism and territorial conquest by the Church. However, after its passage into modernity, the population protects the site and preserves it from the point of view of the local experience of Catholicism, stressing at the same time the colonial structure of the hacienda. The residues of colonialism are monumentalized from the point of view of a clear separation between slavery and the historical recognition of Catholicism as another of the bases that reasserts the Afro-Ecuadorian’s existence as a people and their appropriation of the ancestral territory. Meanwhile, the hacienda as a representation of slavery and racial exploitation of African-descendants is resisted with acts of intentional destruction, like the one taking place in the hacienda house. The contradictions of this process of historical representation shows us the impact of the cultural contact experience and the unending and the unpredictable nature of their results in diasporic landscapes (Glissant and Wing 1997) these “other landscapes” that co-exist in the Ecuadorian national landscape. These very buildings, the abandoned houses, the residues of a destroyed hacienda, the train station, the preserved church, the revitalized cemetery and the Casa de los Abuelos, the objects of the hacienda past, and the pre-Columbian objects remain part of everyday life and maintain their ambiguity, making “other histories” possible, as long as they are not considered objects of national heritage. Thus, when a senior tells us a story about exploitation under the hacienda, the remains of the destroyed hacienda house and the Jesuit church can be found in the landscape.

When marronage is discussed, a physical rapprochement to the Martina Carrillo Memory Garden, to the Casa de los Abuelos and to the Oshun Refuge becomes possible.

Conclusion

In the Afro-Ecuadorian diasporic landscapes, the existence of “other landscapes” are visible in the national imaginary. At the same time, the ways in which national limits and official historical narratives are discussed and resisted in this “other passages” can be observed. Glissant and Wing (1997) point out how this awareness of the relationship in which the diaspora has lived in order to survive is one that recognizes how the Other is inside of us and affects our conceptions and sensibilities. The slavery and coloniality that produced these landscapes, centered on the hacienda, also gave rise to ancestral territories, the desire for freedom. The resistance as an Afro-Ecuadorian people did not forget the coloniality that was being exerted on their identity because the coloniality was violently imposed on their very bodies. In this sense, the hacienda is imagined from the standpoint of marronage, but, at the same time, as part of an awareness of being colonial subjects. What we see today in the historical archaeological landscape of La Concepción as a space of decolonial struggles for the territory, the body, and narrative, is that they materialize in constant and unpredictable change. They are anchored in the strategic effectiveness that does not conform with an official history nor with an “in-home” process. This landscape tends to be relational and comprehensive, it recognizes that the colonial and national official historical landscapes are present and that there is a need to transform them, sometimes with destruction, sometimes with abandonment, sometimes with preservation, and other times with revitalization. In the current national historical landscape, these other landscapes co-exist, but they are recognized only in isolated cases, and their “veracity” is questioned. The question is asked: “Do these places really have an archaeological past?”

The ethno-education program has allowed for the inclusion of African-descendant history in school texts at the national level and it will be possible to continue acting from the standpoint of “out-of-home” historical education. The relationships and the products from this interaction will make the construction of new rhizomatic and diasporic historical landscapes possible.

Chapter 5. “Cimarrona Soy”, Historical Strategies of Resistance from Afro-Ecuadorian Women

Daniela Balanzátegui Moreno27, María Barbarita Lara28 and Ana María Morales Troya29

Figure 27 “Waving Laberints of Freedom” , La Concepción 2013. Photography by Ricardo Bohórquez

27 PhD candidate, Archaeology Department, Simon Fraser University (Burnaby-Canada). 28 CONAMUNE-Carchi Representative (National Coordinating Committee of Black Women), Councillor, Mira Canton, Province of Carchi. 29 PhD student in Social Anthropology, Universidad Nacional de San Martín (Argentina).

Las cimarronas transmitían mensajes y enseñanza a los pueblos lo hacían todos los días con amor y alegría y sus hijos aprendían lo que ellas les decían con cacumen y mamuncia le cantaban a la vida y las grandes cimarronas con valentía no demostraban cobardía…30 Amada Cortez 2009:7

Introduction

It is impossible to summarize or sketch out the leadership and struggles for the fulfillment of human rights by African-descendant women in Latin America without first remembering that the same struggles began with the separation of women, men, girls, boys, and youth from their homes in Africa in the context of early colonial slavery (Castillo and Rubiera 1996). Upon arriving in American and to the places assigned to them against their will, they developed strategies of adaptation, survival and, above all, resistance, that allowed them to build their African, Atlantic (Gilroy 2013), diasporic y creolized31 culture. These strategies from women arose out of everyday activities, such as weaving labyrinths or escape routes (Barbarita Lara and Ofelia Lara, personal communication 2015) in their hair, using song to transmit teaching, traditions or messages, and meeting at night to secretly plan their escape from the

30 “The maroon women transmitted messages and teachings to the peoples they did so every day with love and joy and their children learned what they told them with brains and motherly love they sang to life and the great maroon women with bravery showed no cowardliness” This and all other translations from the original Spanish by Ross Swanson unless otherwise noted. 31 The term “creolization” refers to rhizomatic identities of African-descendants as relational, diffuse, and dynamic, (Glissant 2008).

hacienda owners (Camp 2004). For example, in the haciendas of the northern Ecuadorian Andes in the 19th century, maroon (cimarrona) women escaped to denounce mistreatment (Lara et al. 2014). These mechanisms of marronage (cimarronaje), of escape, of the search for freedom and the defense of the human rights of the enslaved population have been primordial and reiterative in their transmission and practice over the last five centuries. They are part of the collective memory of African-descendants. However, the historical record of these strategies is incomplete and biased because of the imposition of a modern/colonial patriarchy (Segato 2011) that ignored the histories of the enslaved people. This denial is reproduced until the present through modern forms of discursive discrimination, written violence (Bay et al. 2015), and other racist and patriarchal practices including a colonialist process of de-humanization and reification applied to certain social groups for the validation of others and the imposition by force of processes of whitening (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). In this way, Afro- Ecuadorian women affirm that “the slave ancestor was negative… his reason for being was to be a slave and the state insisted on this”. The effect of this system had, as a consequence, a deep feeling of “self-denial” (Irma Bautista and Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014).

This article explores historical strategies and grassroots struggles of maroon women as part of the work of CONAMUNE-Carchi (National Coordinator of Black Women, Carchi) based on a di(tri)alogue between an Afro-Ecuadorian woman leader, an archaeologist, and an anthropologist, creating a shared space in which different ways of understanding the world are interwoven (De la Cadena 2015). This reflection is born mainly from long conversations with Barbarita Lara, a member of CONAMUNE-Carchi, observing her work and that of CONAMUNE carried out in the Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley32 and in the African-descendant community of La Concepción in northern Ecuador33. Barbarita was born in the community of Mascarilla, (Chota-Mira Valley), but has lived in La Concepción for several years. There, she developed the CONAMUNE-Carchi chapter. The researchers Daniela Balanzátegui and Ana María Morales have worked with CONAMUNE and with Barbarita especially since 2012 as part of the project Arqueología y Antropología Colaborativa de la

32 The Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley consists of Afro-Ecuadorian communities in the provinces of Imbabura and Carchi in the north of Ecuador and that also are found near the Chota and Mira rivers. Starting in the 16th century, enslaved populations arrived in this territory to work mainly on sugarcane plantations. These borders were made and the territory was constructed by African-descendant leaders from the territory. 33 The community of La Concepción was founded with an African-descendant population that was involuntarily moved there by the Jesuits to work on sugarcane plantations in the 16th century.

Diáspora Africana en el Territorio Ancestral del Valle del Chota-Mira [Collaborative Anthropology and Archaeology of the African Diaspora in the Ancestral Territory of the Chota- Mira Valley]. This led to these conversations and joint actions over the last four years.

The actions are analyzed within their rural context and taking the African-descendant community of the Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley as a base. They are understood from the standpoint of intersectionality (Crenshaw 1991) which situates Afro- Ecuadorian women in a position in which political action is more difficult “for being a woman, an African-descendant, and rural” (Lara Barbarita, personal communication 2014). In their discourse and their actions, the word “feminism” does not appear, but the activities are framed in the context of the fulfilment of the rights of Afro-Ecuadorian women. In particular, actions produced through historical memory as a basis of the Afro-Ecuadorian people’s epistemology are included. In this case, they are recovered and worked on by the base of the movement of Afro-Ecuadorian women. Furthermore, these actions are produced via transmitted words and have allowed for the development of ethno-education programs that are framed in a logic of an internal strengthening of the communities and of the recognition of their history at the national level.

The basis for the actions is historical memory

For the African-descendant women, memory is a basic component on which African- descendant actions and political discourse are forged, sustained and built. Mariana Mora explains the role of memory as “something sacred since it is a road already travelled that is contemplated with absolute respect, that makes what has been experienced and remembered collective, beyond the body of an individual” (Mora 2014). Thus, memory provides tools and “ethical brushstrokes”, painting a horizon (Mora 2014). In this sense, Barbarita’s reflection on the concept of “past” is pertinent:

From my perspective, the past means the foundation, the root for surviving, especially here in the diaspora, because it brings forward the word… Because “a people that doesn’t know its history is like a tree with no roots”. From this perspective, it fits like a glove for the African- descendant population. Because if we don’t know the past, we would be wandering in nothing, especially as peoples dispersed here in the Americas.

Remembering the past as a desire to live better based on the recognition of historical strategies of resistance by Afro-Ecuadorian women revisits the concept of memory as “the desire for a future without absences”(Osorio and Rubio 2006). In this act, words are reconfigured and other meanings are assigned to what is recovered from silences imposed on Afro-Ecuadorian history. In this respect, Barbarita (personal communication 2014) points out that:

A story [una historia] should be told thinking about building values, a nice way of living, a positive spirit, a story that also builds bonds of friendship, positive relationships when faced with difference… that aims toward “buen vivir” (good living). Because sometimes history is told just because. A history that has many bases to be improved, to be better human beings.

Catherine Walsh and the Afro-Ecuadorian intellectual from the Province of Esmeraldas, Juan García Salazar emphasize how the philosophy and teachings of elders (male and female) is a decolonial practice to recover, strengthen, reposition and rebuild existence as an ancestral right (Walsh and García 2015). From a retrospective, reflexive and dynamic present, the past taught through spoken word and the emphasis on a history narrated for the right to ancestry are tools to end the racism and violence that affects Afro-Ecuadorian women. In this way, history as a form of action is seen again in the concept of historical reparation that, as Barbarita (personal communication 2014) affirms:

…comes from the construction of collective rights… for the African-descendant peoples and Afro-Ecuadorians in particular. So, thinking about knowing the past to back up the rights that they have as a people, because the people have lived in constant denial, in constant invisibility in which they weren’t considered human beings …

This allows us to carry out a larger discussion about how the “presentism” that we experience in Western society is questioned by Barbarita and other Afro-Ecuadorian women in this call for historical reparation. “Presentism” justifies the social order that is thought of as essential and natural, in which racism and gender inequality are entrenched (Osorio and Rubio 2006). From this stance, the past appears unimportant and, as such, the future is conditional only on the structures of the present. On the contrary, and as a strategy of resistance, historical reparation is a search for human well-being, a defense of rights and a public recognition of a past as a directive for the present and the future.

Historical memory and women

In addition, in CONAMUNE and for Barbarita specifically, historical reparation is focussed on African-descendant women that were historically victimized in the colonial period. The violence affected African-descendant women in different ways, including rape. Angela Davis, for example, writes how “slavery relied as much on routine sexual abuse as it relied on the whip and the lash” (Davis 2011:153). Rape was a weapon of domination and repression whose aim was to erase any desire of resistance from the women. Rape is, for colonialism and conquest, the way to remind them, as Davis reminds us, of their unalterable femininity, the essence of their weakness and passivity. Despite the abolition of slavery, this model of sexual abuse of African-descendant women was institutionalized and had the power to reform and survive to the present. The repercussions of the violence born in the slave system are seen in all the manifestations of racism and gender violence (property-related, sexual, physical, and psychological violence) (Davis 2011).

For this reason, the elimination of violence is an important axis of the work of CONAMUNE. Two years ago, they performed a study to analyze and demonstrate how Afro- Ecuadorian women experience violence. Barbarita Lara explains, in the introduction of this study, that it seeks to contribute to the understanding of historical and structural violence that the women currently endure (personal communication 2012). This said, the ways that movements like CONAMUNE intercede and work can be better understood as a process of healing and historical reparation.

For example, in one of the projects involving the recovery of an old cemetery for the enslaved population of La Concepción, called the Martina Carrillo Memory Garden Project (Proyecto Jardín de la Memoria Martina Carrillo), Martina Carrillo is recognized. She was an enslaved woman who led a group that escaped from the hacienda to file a claim against the mistreatment and attack on human rights in the 18th century. She is seen as a heroine of the

Afro-Ecuadorian people (Irma Bautista, personal communication 2014) 34. Barbarita (personal communication 2014) explains the purposes behind revitalizing this old cemetery:

In the cemetery, they did the exercise of burying however they liked, they did their exercise of spiritual identity. Now we are fighting for the rights, and for their enforceability. It wears you down. We as African-descendant women by ethnicity, by gender, by class, rural people, we are victimized a lot and therefore the exercise of rights is often contradicted. Therefore, to survive, we look back to spirituality, but the exercise of spirituality as a moment for healing that positively strengthens the spirit, and then healthy and clean, and with the spirit strong, more than the body, we keep on facing it because it’s really hard… That’s why we want to give that space back to the people and to the women specifically.

Faced with this struggle that is still uneven, we have started on the road of practicing the healing of the spirit. So, the old cemetery, more than recovering it through archaeology, is also a space so that it can be a site for connection, retreat, with the ancestors. Because we need it a lot, and our ancestors were faithful practitioners of spirituality and lately, because we’re so busy, and the influence and the misuse of the communication media, this is being forgotten. There is no longer time to contemplate nature, the beyond, so we want to return this space to the people and to the women specifically.

Thus, as in diverse Latin American contexts, there is an attempt at healing the wounds of the past, wounds that remain open in daily violence against women. The words of Barbarita remind us of Gloria Anzaldúa who defines the Coyolxauqui imperative as: “a struggle to reconstruct oneself and heal the sustos resulting from woundings, traumas, racism, and other acts of violation que hechan pedazos nuestras almas, split us, scatter our energies, and haunt us” (Anzaldúa 2015:698). The Coyolxauqui Imperative and Nepantla aim to cure wounds and achieve the integration of women. Anzaldúa portrays the nepantleras as artists/activists that help us to mediate transitions and guide us in transformation processes, which the author calls “knowledge” (Anzaldúa 2015:986). This construction from the author leads us to think of the

34 Angela Davis, in turn, speaks of how the colonial slave system establishes equality of gender between men and women because the main aim of the enslaved body is exploitation as a means of production. Therefore, social relationships that are expressed in this context permit/force men and women to confirm their equality in spaces of work, childcare, and care for the house. However, it also allows enslaved women to express their equality in acts of resistance.

“nepantleras” in the entire continent, and in this case in the Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley.

Thus, the words of Gloria Anzaldúa and those of Barbarita Lara blend together with a single purpose. They demonstrate a different philosophy of action in which there is no need to make observations as part of the academy or to cite Western feminists. The search is projected into action, that of healing and integrating women to be able to be understood by and understand the “other”:

Out-of-home, I must strengthen myself, but to initiate a dialogue with the other. We call that dialogue here the dialogue of negotiation with the other because, if not, you can’t live with them. Because the ultimate goal is to learn to get along with the other… we are not isolated in this world, I come back to out-of-home and in-home. In-home, I build with what I know, with what I learn from the other to build and strengthen my identity, my sense of belonging, that pride in being. And proud, with that pride, to be able to initiate the dialogue with the other, if not, that other is going to keep on trampling. But I also need to know about the other people. Because there’s no use in not knowing, because that has been the sin of Western knowledge. That is has been based on only knowing their own things and denying the other knowledges or putting them down, without respect (Lara Barbarita, personal communication 2014).

This emphasis on strengthening identities goes hand in hand with the empowerment of the rights accompanied by Afro-Ecuadorian spirituality. Gloria Anzaldúa refers to it as “embodied practical material espiritual political acts”(Anzaldúa 2015:2241). She talks about these practices as “our legacy”, “knowledge”. This legacy-knowledge decolonizes and revalues the local cosmology that, according to the author, is seen as “other” based on ignorance (Anzaldúa 2015). This decolonization is present in the epistemology offered to us by the Afro- Ecuadorian women, in the revitalization of the old cemetery, and in the application of ethno- educational curriculum maps in educational institutions of the Ancestral Afro-Ecuadorian Territory of the Chota-Mira Valley.

Action as a product of transmitted words

The CONAMUNE (Coordinadora Nacional de Mujeres Negras / National Coordinating Committee of Black Women) was formed in 1999 by African-descendant women from different

provinces of Ecuador with the goal of fighting against violence, inequity, exclusion and the lack of work opportunities for Afro-Ecuadorian men and women. With this perspective, they seek to achieve the effective exercise of human rights, especially those of Afro-Ecuadorian women (CONAMUNE 2006). CONAMUNE, through a long process, has tirelessly executed projects and undertaken political advocacy at the local and national level. Examples include the creation (1999) and implementation of the ethno-education program in schools of the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory (Pabón 2009), historical research about the maroon woman Martina Carrillo, the creation of a community “Refuge of the Ancestors” museum and house of history in La Concepción, the “Martina Carrillo Memory Garden” project for the recuperation of a cemetery of the African Diaspora in Ecuador, and publications of the “Voice of the Ancestors” School of Afro- Ecuadorian Oral (Escuela de Tradición Oral Afroecuatoriana “La Voz de los Ancestros” — ETOVA), that works locally to record collective memory in writing, among other initiatives.

Our relationship with Barbarita began in 2012 when the project Archaeological and Anthropological Collaboration in La Concepción (Colaboración Arqueológica y Antropológica en La Concepción) carried out jointly with the support of the Decentralized Autonomous Government (GAD in Spanish) of the parish of La Concepción and later the National Coordinating Body of Black Women, Carchi Chapter (CONAMUNE-Carchi). Based on several proposals, a space was opened to establish dialogues, build projects and plan actions for the study of the past and Afro-Ecuadorian history in a context of collaboration and interdisciplinarity(Balanzátegui and Morales 2016). This first contact led members of CONAMUNE to share with us the location of the 18th century cemetery in the community of La Concepción where their ancestors are buried. A collaborative project for the recovery of the cemetery was put forward, called the “Martina Carrillo Memory Garden” project (Lara et al. 2014).

Living with the Afro-Ecuadorian women “in-home” and the dialogues and work conducted “out-of-home” became our training school. Juan García Salazar defines the “in- home” time as “autonomous spaces for strengthening one’s self… using collective knowledge (culture) and the right to be autonomous (politics)”. The time “out-of-home”, is explained as “a shared space for teaching others (state, society) about what we are”(Pabón 2007b:109). These two concepts are the base for understanding Afro-Ecuadorian political actions practices by CONAMUNE-Carchi. The decolonial practices and dialogues employed in this process also revealed that the Western guidelines acquired an instrumental, more than essential, sense, and

the strategies and practices are governed by those apprehended from “the elders”. Before the work meetings that we attended, we held two long conversations in which we analyzed pertinent topics with anecdotes and experiences from both sides. These “meetings” are called “cochita amorosa”. The origin of this name was explained by Ofelia Lara, a member of CONAMUNE who remembers that in her childhood, on nights with a full moon, all the boys and girls of the community went out to do “cochita amorosa”. This meant to sit in a circle and tell stories in the light of the moon. Currently, to do “cochita amorosa” means to sit down, converse, and reflect on the strategies and political actions of the group. In the Agenda Política de las Mujeres Afrodescendientes del Territorio Ancestral Afroecuatoriano de las provincias de Imbabura y Carchi [Political Agenda of the Afro-Desendant Women of the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of Imbabura and Carchi] “cochita amorosa” is defined as part of the strategies employed by the women as spaces of inclusive intercultural and interinstitutional dialogue… dialogues constituted based on respect, optimism and candid freedom (CONAMUNE Imbabura and Carchi 2015). This moment, the “cochita amorosa”, where “words are loose”, has gradually gained ground since colonial times so that not only girls and boys tell their stories but also adults transmit their knowledge, culture, and traditions to their sons and daughters (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). Since they were a form of education that was denied for centuries in enslaved African-descendant communities, oral traditions and the spoken word have an emancipatory role (Lao-Montes 2007). In this political context, knowledges and the oral tradition take on life and are practiced in the actions and struggles for equality. This is how it has been since the beginning of the organization (CONAMUNE 2006).

One of the struggles that has been taken on under the topic of gender equality is the right to female education. Currently, most adult women in the Chota-Mira Valley did not have the opportunity to finish their primary or secondary schooling. In the Political Agenda of Women of the Afro-Ecuadorian Ancestral Territory of Imbabura and Carchi, the women explain how men, their fathers, rejected the chance to educate their daughters, saying “why, if they’re going to have kids?”. They preferred to invest in the education of boys, arguing that girls “were going to get a husband” and not study. Thus, the activities of the women in the African-descendant communities are an organized response and a resistance through traditional practices to the triple discrimination that they experience and that is also manifested in the CONAMUNE’s emphasis on the development of primary and secondary education projects for Afro-Ecuadorian girls and boys. In this respect, Barbarita (personal communication 2014) says:

In this space and in contact with the river, the women develop their daily life, building history and culture, planning the economy, their economy, bringing forward organizational strategies, thinking about education and cultivating friendships…

At the same time, cultural traditions, that are transmitted “in-home” are taken as part of the political organization that the African-descendant women have woven for their collective organization and the reinforcement of their identity. Barbarita, in the Political Agenda of Black Afro-Ecuadorian Women explains:

It is worth highlighting that among the customs, traditions or cultural practices of African-descendant women of the Chota valley, there are invisible knowledge and practices that are hidden like the beliefs, the education in values, the ways of thinking about life, death, and the spirits. These practices are jealously guarded inside communities. They are internal practices that have contributed to their existence and permanence as a people (CONAMUNE 2006:14–15).

The same actions are built from the ancestral legacy of resistance and reflects what Gargallo explains as a way of building an alternative modernity to European colonialism. This is collective action in which what is personal is not disassociated. This could be contrasted with white feminism that excluded the social reality of most of the women in the world (Gargallo 2013). These traditions and practices also have the purpose of attaining the enforceability of their rights via the “out-of-home” logic. Once strengthened “in-home”, dialogue with the “other” follows “out-of-home”, which Barbarita (personal communication 2014) summarizes with the phrase, “my sense of belonging is constructed in relation to others”. Thus, a relationship of mutual respect is sought out. Barbarita points out that:

In this sense, the black women live their lives in constant struggles for survival; struggles for real freedom, recognition as beings that contribute to development and the fight for respect, dignity, and equality of conditions to encourage intercultural dialogue, opening spaces for their proposals for change to be listened to and to build a country where we all fit (CONAMUNE 2006:14–15).

The description of Afro-Ecuadorian women and their different practices and traditions demonstrates how women are thought of and how their work and daily agency are recognized. These are also constructed as forms of resistance, actions and negotiations taking place in everyday life, but elements that direct the policies and logic of action of a political organization like CONAMUNE. This approach emphasizes the capacity for agency of the women through

acting and thinking politically in everyday spaces (Harrison 2009). These actions are responses to day-to-day life in which machismo and social injustice are still present in homes, communities, in the street, and other spaces of interaction (Gargallo 2013).

With these basic principles and discourses, CONAMUNE has worked in the ethno- education commission and in the creation of ethno-educational materials. Based on the logic of “out-of-home” interaction, the objective of knowing the history of the “other” (white/mestizo), and of helping the “other” know the history of the Afro-Ecuadorian people, has been defined (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). As Gloria Anzaldúa (1999:86) explains, “we need to know the history of their struggle and they need to know ours”. Ethno-education builds on the idea that this encounter eliminates racism by teaching where every person comes from. Ethno-educative work is preceded by the “Voice of the Ancestors” African-descendant Oral Tradition School (ETOVA), initially led by the Afro-Ecuadorian from Esmeraldas, Juan García, in which members of CONAMUNE-Carchi participated. This school collected the testimony, experiences, stories, poems, songs, and knowledge of men and women in almost all the Afro- Ecuadorian communities.

Decolonialism and Marronage

The experiences and conversations with Barbarita help us to think critically and self- critically about the historical strategies of resistance of maroon (cimarrona) women. From the dialogues of intercultural construction, we found ourselves participating in historical recuperation that seeks, above all, to re-humanize those who were dehumanized, making a more ethical narrative possible (Osorio and Rubio 2006), and in a practice of resistance that has its foundations in a constructed collective memory spanning from Africa, to the diaspora and cultural creolization. The dialogue established with Barbarita is related to what María Lugones calls “decolonial feminism”. She defines it as a feminism that “becomes aware of the gender system based on the human / non-human dichotomy…” (Lugones 2012). In this context, according to the author, pathways for action should be sought out to fight against gender inequality while understanding and recognizing how the historical colonial imposition that attacks the human rights of African-descendant women was resisted and continues to be resisted. One of the essential elements of this action has been “beginning to see what was covered” (Lugones 2012), starting with unlearning and learning anew to carry the historical narrative to a process of reparation (Chalá et al. 2007). The discussion that we have posited in

this text also emphasizes the possibility of the recognition of knowledges that have been rejected, “different practices, ways of passing on resistance orally and bodily, ways of resisting” (Lugones 2012). We understand that through these actions, the struggle for the fulfilment of the human rights of Afro-Ecuadorian women stands out, together with other actions that have been developed historically, such as the movement for the elimination of racism based on internal reinforcement and the same re-humanization observed in the historical narratives.

The African-descendant women are not only confronting the patriarchal and racist structure “out-of-home”’ but also “in-home”. The internal disputes that exist with internal machismo in most communities should also be considered. That said, it is necessary to recognize the “out-of-home” and “in-home” work. bell hooks affirms that white feminism ignores this structure and the struggles that have taken place. The author refers to the permanent organization of women to confront an oppression present in their own homes as well as outside of them (hooks 2004).

By debating the impermeability of official history to convert it into an object of critical discussion and locate collective memory in a public and politically active context (Price 2010), this work of memory revitalization permits, as Barbarita points out, the reaffirmation and sustenance of Afro-Ecuadorian identity (Barbarita Lara, personal communication 2014). Through this dynamic conception of space-time (Osorio and Rubio 2006), memory is not only an accumulation of historical discourses; current daily practices and historical traditions in the actions of Afro-Ecuadorian women become political strategies and nurture the collective memory.

The recognition and the value given to the words and wisdom of the grandparents should be recognized as a practice in which political agency arises as part of a decolonization of knowledge. Gargallo explains it when he talks of the need to question thinking, philosophy, and of history that is not collected and shared from the academy (Gargallo 2013). In his words, this is equivalent to approaching and attempting to understand knowledge that was produced, transmitted, and re-transmitted over the last 500 years of colonization. This transmission can be seen clearly when Barbarita explains the value and use of speech, and when it is transformed into a playful activity. Thus, this article confronts, following Gargallo, the epistemic difficulties that cultural difference implies and questions the univocal transmission of knowledge that occurs in the academic world (Gargallo 2013). In this sense, the same tri-dialogue that we presented in this text leads to an exercise of intercultural and contestatory knowledge

production. In it, the struggle for the elimination of racism, for the equality of men and women and for candid freedom. These actions and epistemologies of the Afro-Ecuadorian women allow us to recognize “other” strategies that have responded to the historical particularities of colonial and modern Ecuador. The patriarchal, white-mestizo state has not rested in imposing a historical narrative and practices that revitalize colonial structures that give rise to racial discrimination and gender violence. As such, resistance could only rise from women’s movements like CONAMUNE and leaders like Barbarita. These are the survival strategies of the women of CONAMUNE-Carchi chapter, just as other Afro-Ecuadorian collectives have recurred to them for their survival in the diaspora, in the slave system, and in the face of modern structural racism. As Audre Lorde says: “to survive in the mouth of the dragon that we call America, we have had to learn this first and most vital lesson —that we were never meant to survive”(Lorde 1977:82).

Chapter 6. Conclusions

Historically, Latin American archaeology has focused on the study of prehispanic populations, which reinforces symbols of national identity, as a process of whitening the material culture. This process has created a deep gap between present indigenous and African- descendants and the prehispanic objects that function as national symbols (Gnneco 1995, 2002, 2008; Singleton and Torres 2011; Wade 1997). In response, this thesis has foregrounded the archaeology of the African Diaspora, and collaborative archaeology (Terrence 2004, Nicholas 2005, 2008), as ways to explore the Afro-Ecuadorian past from an archaeological perspective as a collaborative practice with Afro-Ecuadorian communities.

Afro-Ecuadorians are strategically bringing together different cultural traits to represent themselves, not only from their African past, but also incorporating traditions, stories and narratives from other ethnic and social groups. My research demonstrates that the way to understand this process is to start looking into Afro-Ecuadorian identities as complex, diverse, and historically influenced by the effect of colonialism and neo-colonialism. In this sense, the concept of rhizomatic identities that Glissant has advocated for the Antillean diaspora has been useful in analyzing this complex historical process in Ecuador. As Article 1: Ceramic Analysis mentions, enslaved people manufactured ceramics in La Concepción mostly for their personal, or community use, as cooking vessels and smoking pipes, although also possibly for ritual purposes, incorporating an African Diaspora aesthetic in a relational manner. They did not only use African Diaspora ceramics produced on the hacienda, but also incorporated colonial ceramics and indigenous ceramics into their daily practices. In addition, the commemoration of their traditions and diasporic identities are clearly related to processes of resistance and survival, and to re-affirm their ancestral rights over their territory. Some of these strategies are shown in the presence of symbols such as the Bakongo cosmogram, Vodun or Yoruba signs that are both ritual, and connected to people’s ethnic representations. This is the basis for creating an African Diasporic community, in a process of creolization.

100

Afro-Ecuadorians have preserved their memories and in some cases practices that helped them survive and resist slavery, and later racial discrimination, from the 16th century up to the present. Article 4: Cimarrona Soy, brings together some of these practices transmitted by women and used in the present to resist structural racism and defend black women’s rights. Today, we cannot characterize the Afro-Ecuadorians from the Chota-Mira Valley as representative of an African tradition. However, their strategies have been transmitted through “words as action”. Not just symbols of an African past; the stories and material culture of the community emphasize ways of preserving community teachings, and remembering the ideas and spirit of resistance, landscape, community building and cimarronaje.

In multiple conversations with Barbarita Lara (CONAMUNE-Carchi, the main informant for Article 4: Cimarrona Soy) and other Afro-Ecuadorians, we have listened to how slavery, colonialism and other neocolonialisms have tried to erase their history; the original culture that the first Africans brought to colonial Ecuador. The archaeological research that has been involved in developing Article 1: Ceramics, and Article 2: Cemetery Revitalization included an archaeological survey of the Jesuit Hacienda La Concepción, and excavations of two household middens related to the enslaved population. The results of this archaeological investigation have recently made Afro-Ecuadorian leaders and intellectuals such as Barbarita more aware of questions of how slavery erased their African and African diaspora traditions. In order to question current historical narratives of the African Diaspora in Ecuador, national ethnoeducation programs are emphasizing the history of Africa, and a comparison with Afro- Ecuadorian practices, and oral traditions. Our archaeological research is supporting this ethnoeducation program.

Article 2: Cemetery Revitalization is focused on the ways that the archaeology of the African Diaspora brings forward community collaborations. Based on examples from North America and Brazil, the work done on the 18th-20th century cemetery of La Concepción is inserted into a larger discussion of collaboration between African-descendant communities and scholars for the study and recuperation of sacred places. In this research, I have presented the investigation of the cemetery as not only relevant on a local level, but also with relevance to the national and global descendant community, especially when dealing with racism, and respect for ancestors. The dialogue between methods, theory and politics has provided us with different ways to work as archaeologists, and new ways of looking at the benefits for all the participants. The cemetery could be considered as only at minor risk of destruction, but this example

101

demonstrates that archaeology can have a positive impact when our intervention is not imposed over the logic and interests of the community.

In the same line of building bridges of intercultural knowledge, Article 3: Historical Narratives emphasizes a diversity of narratives of the Afro-Ecuadorian past, taking the example of La Concepción. This article demonstrates how the Afro-Ecuadorian historical landscape in La Concepción brings together historical processes of colonialism, official and hegemonic histories and the local community’s own stories. All these parts are visible in the material culture and historical buildings of La Concepción. We can see how some histories refuse to be erased, and the strategies that are deployed to preserve local histories as “true stories”. This is important in identifying how Afro-Ecuadorian identities are formed in all their relational and rhizomatic complexity.

The multi-scalar methodology used here allowed these identities to be seen from different levels, resulting in a holistic perspective of the Afro-Ecuadorian past. At the same time the use of an interdisciplinary approach has proved to be valuable as part of exploring the best combination of methodologies and techniques to investigate the African Diaspora in Latin America. The various parts of this thesis were articulated with each other in a way that improved our holistic view of the Afro-Ecuadorian past. Other studies that are still in process include the zooarchaeological analysis of foodways in the midden samples, an XRF analysis of the ceramics to clarify the provenience of the artefacts, and a historical research about their African or African Diaspora origins. The project to recuperate the 18th-20th century cemetery is also an ongoing process that will take years. These studies will enrich our understanding of the Afro-Ecuadorian and the interpretation of their material culture, continuing our collaboration with CONAMUNE-Carchi and GAD La Concepción.

This research is bringing to our attention different topics about the Archaeology of the African Diaspora, the history of Slavery and Collaborative Archaeology. In this study I decided to choose the Glissant and Wing’s (1997) concept of creolization considering its versatile application and the historical process it implies. The term has been mainly used for the Caribbean region, but the concept explains colonial contact and the result of this process not only for the African Diaspora, but as a more general explanation of other colonial constructions such as mestizaje or hybrid identities. At the same time, creolization provides us with multiple meanings for the diaspora that is not limited to one particular region of the Americas. The process of creolization started in Africa, continued in the Middle Passage and makes reference

102

to the contact not only between Africans and Europeans, but also with different ethnic groups. Within the diverse contexts where the African Diaspora developed, creolization helps us to understand that there are different combinations of cultural traits that were recreated, appropriated and forgotten. Therefore, we can go beyond the interpretation of colonial material culture as a simplistic analysis of the survival of African or European elements (Mintz and Price 1976).

Creolization considers individual and collective creative practices and desires and how they are all part of this resulting interaction, a concept that is visible in the material culture of La Concepción (Silliman 2009). Article 1: Ceramics, Practice, and Creolization explored the process of appropriations of colonial materiality, material styles from different groups. In this research the practices of appropriation and how the African-descendant population made choices of European and Indigenous ceramics is shown through their incorporation of Spanish material styles, introduced European manners and the reuse of prehispanic Pasto ceramics. The production of hand-made ceramics with designs recreates their diasporic identities and desires. Afro-Ecuadorian material culture follows a particular, unique, unpredictable, complex and ambiguous colonial interaction. An interaction with ethnic groups, processes of adaptation, appropriation of styles and the expression of their creative representations and imagination, transmitting their beliefs despite the restrictive context of Jesuit Catholic values and sets of meanings.

Silliman (2009) talks about the absence of material culture as a part of the silencing of groups in colonial contexts. This study confirms that archaeologists of the African Diaspora should expect African-descendants’ ceramics to be a minor or smaller part of collections compared to colonial or European ceramics. Their special motifs might be also be the result of combinations that are shortened versions of original designs (Ferguson 1980, 1999; Fennell and Bartoy 2008). These artefacts are contextualized within the production of materiality of the Jesuit plantation system, and of the historical material landscape reflecting African ethnic interaction between different groups and local indigenous people. The African Diaspora ceramics in La Concepcion represent only a small part of the assemblage. They are the first archaeological evidence of an African Diaspora material culture in colonial archaeological materials from Ecuador, and includes smoking pipes, a special object with a Bakongo cosmogram, Vodun crosses, Yoruba sings, a bull or goat face figurine, and the other incised decoration on wheel-made ceramics. Even though it is a small part of the archaeological

103

collection, the material culture made by enslaved people in La Concepcion also demonstrates a larger relationship with a global community.

In addition, the existence of this material past is challenging the stereotype that the white-mestizo Ecuadorian society has built about Afro-Ecuadorians as an ahistorical group of people. The archaeological excavation of this plantation is changing Ecuadorian history. This study demonstrates that ideas about Afro-Ecuadorians as a people without an ancestral heritage, subordinated to folkloric and racialized representations, are simply hurtful historical narratives created by a hegemonic group to keep their privileged political and social status. Afro-Ecuadorians not only used ceramics from other colonial groups, they also had their own material culture, expressions of their historical creolized identities despite their status as slaves in the 18th century. The production of this material culture was part of their strategies to survive slavery and later structural racism and discrimination.

An important part of our archaeological interpretation has involved incorporating Afro- Ecuadorian intellectual ideas as part of the research process. Afro-Ecuadorian concepts and beliefs are employed to understand their own history and material culture. For instance, the structure “casa adentro/ casa afuera” (inside/outside home) has been used to explain the construction and diffusion of knowledge. Another example is the emphasis on oral tradition as Afrolatino historical strategy to preserve and recuperate their history (Lao-Montes 2007). Both concepts and practices are a contribution to decolonizing collaborative archaeology (González- Tennant 2014; Wylie 2015).

Our research has also emphasized the role of Afro-Ecuadorian women as the source of epistemological and methodological practices that are nurturing our archaeological and historical understanding of the Afro-Ecuadorian past. As mentioned in Article 4: Cimmarona Soy, the term “feminist” has not been used by CONAMUNE’s women and more specifically by Barbarita Lara to define their practices, epistemological questions and political goals. Despite this lack of a specifically feminist strategy, their demands and strategies to fight racial and gender discrimination are reminders of Latin American and Afro-american women falling into intersectional positions, as rural and racialized individuals. Intersectionality, a concept that is used by Latin American feminists (Lugones 2012; Segato 2011) and female leaders such as Barbarita, was borne in North American black feminism (Crenshaw 1991). Their concepts and practices also share a critique of white feminism and its univocality (hooks 2004). Therefore, Afro-Ecuadorian women’s epistemological bases and practices are clearly related to global

104

feminist knowledge, as a result of working with community organizations, national and regional movements of Afro-Latin American women (Lara, personal communication, 2016).

In terms of a collaborative practice, we have attempted to go beyond simply including community members in the archaeological project, instead working to build a relationship of respect and honesty with the community. The implications of our archaeological work were clearly explained and debated with the community throughout the project. At the end of the project the community could recognize the interpretations of the archaeological data as valid. The result of this pluralistic approach to the Afro-Ecuadorian past was an effective and a less intrusive archaeological intervention (Wylie 2015). This relationship has been confirmed in our work at the cemetery. We have respected the connection that the community has with their ancestors and decided not to excavate the burials (Leone et al. 2005). Within the same respect and consultation to the involved communities (CONAMUNE-Carchi, descendants, GAD La Concepcion, etc), this decision may change in the future if some of the questions that are relevant for the community could be answered by employing forensic anthropology.

In this process it is impossible to achieve a real collaboration without understanding that archaeology is also about deep personal relationships and shared feelings between people with different historical backgrounds, knowledges, ways of feeling and speaking about their realities, but sharing similar objectives in making historical narratives useful instruments for the present. The article: Cimarrona Soy demonstrates how Barbarita Lara, Ana María Morales and I found common ground to disrupt the boundaries between objectivism and subjectivism, between “inside/outside home,” finding a way to work in “other spaces” (Kociatkiewicz and Kostera 1999). This kind of archaeology/anthropology requires a long process to build trust and share experiences.

These practices have been part of our proposed historical reparation, conceived as a way of healing (Article 3: Historical Narratives and Article 4: Cimarrona Soy). Instead of reminding everyone of the painful history of slavery and racism, the Afro-Ecuadorian purpose is to be recognized as the descendants of cimarrones/cimarronas. The ancestors fought; escaped and daily resisted slavery to achieve freedom. This approach to African Diaspora history should guide the archaeological investigation of plantations and other African Diaspora sites. That does not mean ignoring slavery, but it does involve rejecting the idea that slavery was essential to African Diaspora populations. Consequently, the process of healing from this archeological perspective comes from a different way of seeing the past that contests a silence that official

105

histories put forward as valid and unique. At the same time this process of healing and support includes respect for the Afro-Ecuadorian right to use and narrate their own history. Collaborative archaeology worked as a source of investigation, advocacy, and the application of a pluralistic/intercultural perspective. The work in La Concepcion from this collaborative perspective discusses colonialism and other larger questions about heritage meaning, as well as the practice of archaeology in African Diaspora sites on a national and global scale. The common goals and claims from archaeology and the Afro-Ecuadorian communities are changing the methodology and practices of archaeology, by highlighting the demands of respect, reciprocity and consultation these are not simply methods, but have become part of a new episteme (Silliman and Ferguson 2010).

Archaeological studies of the African Diaspora in Latin America are becoming more common. It is important that Latin American archaeologists working in this area of study are intentionally including ethnographic research, bringing the voices and practices of African Diaspora communities and their community interests into the development of future archaeological research. Latin American archaeologists are supporting this intercultural dialog, but the lack of African-descendant archaeologists, except in rare cases in the Caribbean and Brazil, reminds us all that the academic opportunities offered to African-descendants in Latin America are still limited, and a genuine dialogue is still to come. Recognizing our role as mestizos and scholars, and how our language is supporting the validation of western knowledge, is also a way to start changing this situation of inequality where one voice has more power to change history than another. The changes of history demand profound modifications in the present based on how the past is viewed and discussed.

Therefore, this investigation gives a holistic perspective of the African Diaspora past in Ecuador. Holistic means we are conscious of reading the past from different voices, whether as Afro-Ecuadorians on the national stage, local communities, or the white-mestizo majority. Holistic means the analysis takes examples from different periods and recognizes the fine line between past and present, taking into account the many social and political structures that are still present and affecting the Afro-Ecuadorian population. Holistic means the investigation engaged in questioning and debating these structures by analyzing discourses about the past and their materiality in their different scenarios. This holistic perspective demonstrates that historical narratives are not impermeable, and can changed, by the Afro-Ecuadorian population affected by a hegemonic history that justifies their exploitation and discrimination today.

106

References Cited

Anonimo 1767 Inventario del Colegio Máximo de Quito de la Compañía de Jesús y sus Haciendas durante su Secuestro, el 20 de Agosto de 1767. Trans. P. Francisco Piñas Rubio S.J. Quito, Ecuador. Fundación Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Aurelio Espinosa Pólit (FBEAEP).

Anton, John and Luis Tuaza n.d. Salvaguardia del Patrimonio Cultural Inmaterial de los Afrodescendientes en América Latina, Informe sobre la Situación del PCI Afrodescendiente en Ecuador. CRESPIAL, UNESCO.

Anzaldúa, Gloria 1999 Borderlands: la frontera. San Francisco: Aunt Lute.

2015 Light in the Dark/Luz en lo Oscuro: Rewriting Identity, Spirituality, Reality. Duke University Press. Durham.

Armstrong, Douglas V. 2003 Creole transformation from slavery to freedom: historical archaeology of the east end community, St. John, Virgin Islands. University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

Armstrong, Douglas V., and Mark L. Fleischman 2003 House-yard burials of enslaved laborers in eighteenth-century Jamaica. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 7(1): 33–65.

Armstrong, Douglas V., and Mark W. Hauser 2009 A sea of diversity: Historical archaeology in the Caribbean. In International Handbook of Historical Archaeology, pp. 583–612.

Armstrong, Douglas V., and Elizabeth Jean Reitz 1990 The Old Village and Great House: An Archaeological and Historical Examination of Drax Hall Plantation, St. Ann’s Bay, Jamaica. University of Illinois Press, Urbana and Chicago.

Atalay, Sonya 2006 Indigenous archaeology as decolonizing practice. The American Indian Quarterly 30(3): 280–310.

107

2007 Global Application of Indigenous Archaeology: Community based Participatory Research in Turkey. Archaeologies 3(3): 249–270.

Balanzátegui, Daniela 2007 El Rol de la Ideología frente a la Estructuración Social: Estudio Arqueológico en un Yacimiento, Pasto. Honors dissertation, Departamento de Antropología, Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Ecuador, Quito.

2012 Colonial Indigenous and Mestizo Foodways: Ceramic Analysis and Ethnoarchaeology in the Highlands of Ecuador. MA. dissertation, Arts & Social Sciences, Department of Archaeology, Simon Fraser University, Burnaby.

Balanzátegui, Daniela, Ross W. Jamieson, and Florencio Delgado 2017 Arqueología Histórica del Ecuador, Edited Volume. USFQ-SFU, Quito, in press

Balanzátegui, Daniela, and Ana María Morales 2016 Collaborative African-descendant Archaeology and Anthropology in La Concepción, Ecuador. Newsletters Blog. IPinCH blog. January.

Barton, Christopher, and Patricia Markert 2012 Collaborative Archaeology, Oral History, and Social Memory at Timbuctoo, New Jersey. Journal of African Diaspora Archaeology and Heritage 1(1): 79–102.

Bauer, Arnold J. 1983a Jesuit Enterprise in Colonial Latin America: A Review Essay. Agricultural History 57(1): 90.

1983b The Church in the Economy of Spanish America: Censos and Dépositos in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. The Hispanic American Historical Review 63(4): 707–733.

Bay, Mia, Farah J. Griffin, Martha S. Jones, and Barbara Dianne Savage 2015 Toward an Intellectual History of Black Women. UNC Press Books.

Beck, Scott, Kenneth Mijeski, and Meagan Stark 2008 Awareness of Racism among Self-identified Negros and Mulatos in Ecuador. In First Conference on Ethnicity, Race, and Indigenous Peoples in Latin America and the Caribbean. San Diego, CA.

Benavides, Hugo 2005 Los Ritos de la Autenticidad: Indígenas, Pasado y el Estado Ecuatoriano. Arqueología Suramericana 1(1): 5–25.

108

2009 Disciplining the Past, Policing the Present: the Postcolonial Landscape of Ecuadorian Nostalgia. Archaeologies 5(1): 134–160.

Bendremer, Jeffrey C. 2008 Hie Tribe and the Trowel An Indigenous Archaeology and the Mohegan Archaeological Field School Jeffrey C. Bendremer and Elaine L. Thomas. Collaborating at the Trowel’s Edge: Teaching and Learning in Indigenous Archaeology 2: 50.

Blakey, Michael L. 1997 Past Is Present: Comments on“ In the Realm of Politics: Prospects for Public Participation in African-American Plantation Archaeology”. Historical Archaeology: 140–145.

1998 The New York African Burial Ground Project: An Examination of Enslaved Lives, a Construction of Ancestral Ties. Transforming Anthropology 7(1): 53–58.

2008 An Ethical Epistemology of Publicly Engaged Biocultural Research. In Evaluating Multiple Narratives, pp. 17–28. Springer.

Bouisson, Emmanuelle 1997 Esclavos de la Tierra: los Campesinos Negros del Chota-Mira, siglos XVII- XX. Procesos, Revista ecuatoriana de historia, 1(11), 45-67.

Bradley, Charles S. 2000 Smoking Pipes for the Archaeologist. Studies in Material Culture Research: 104–133.

Bray, Tamara L. 2005 Multi-ethnic Settlement and Interregional Exchange in Pimampiro, Ecuador. Journal of field archaeology 30(2): 119–141.

2008 Late Prehispanic Chiefdoms of Highland Ecuador. In The Handbook of South American Archaeology, pp. 527–543. Springer.

Brown, Haverty 2012 La Etnoeducación Afroecuatoriano: una Herramienta, una Estrategia, un Arma. Independent Study Project (ISP) Collection 1328.

Bryant, Sherwin Keith 2005 Slavery and the Context of Ethnogenesis: African, Afro-Creoles, and the Realities of Bondage in the Kingdom of Quito, 1600-1800. PhD. dissertation, Department of History, Ohio State University, Columbus.

109

De la Cadena, Marisol 2000 Indigenous Mestizos: the Politics of Race and Culture in Cuzco, Peru, 1919-1991. Duke university Press, Durham and London.

2004 Indígenas Mestizos: Raza y Cultura en el Cusco. Vol. 19. Instituto de Estudios peruanos, Lima.

2006 ¿Son los Mestizos Híbridos?. Universitas Humanística(61): 51–84.

2015 Earth Beings: Ecologies of Practice Across Andean Worlds. Duke University Press, Durham and London.

Caillavet, Chantal 2000 Etnias del Norte, Etnohistoria e historia de Ecuador. Travaux de l’I. F. E. A, Quito.

Calero, Carolina 2015 Representacions Nacionales a Partir de la Producción, Circulación y Apropiación de Objetos Arqueológicos y sus Imágenes. La Figurina Valdivia en el Campo Arqueológico, Institucional y Local. MA. dissertation, FLACSO- Ecuador, Quito, March.

Camp, Stephanie MH 2004 Closer to Freedom: Enslaved Women and Everyday Resistance in the Plantation South. Univ. of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill .

Cárdenas-Arroyo, Felipe 1996 Quiliacingas y Pastos del Siglo XVI. Frontera y Poblamiento: Estudios de Historia y Antropología de Colombia y Ecuador: 41. Institut français d'études andines, Lima.

Castillo, María de los Reyes, and Daisy Rubiera 1996 Reyita, Sencillamente: Testimonio de Una Negra Cubana Nonagenaria. Instituto Cubano del Libro, Prolibros, Ediciones Alba, La Habana.

Chalá, Angulo, Catherine Ocles, Juan Arce, and Alexandra Ocles 2007 Plataforma Política del pueblo Afroecuatoriano. Construcción Plural y Colectiva Promovida por Especialistas Afroecuatorianos, Líderes y Lideresas de Organizaciones Provinciales. CEPP Centro de Educación y Promoción Popular, Nacional Endowment for Democracy, Quito.

Chambers, Douglas B. 2001 Ethnicity in the Diaspora: The Slave-Trade and the Creation of African’Nations’ in the Americas. Slavery and Abolition 22(3): 25–39.

Cipolla, Craig N. 2008 Signs of Identity, Signs of Memory. Archaeological dialogues 15(02): 196– 215.

110

Clark, A. Kim 2001 The Redemptive Work: Railway and Nation in Ecuador, 1895-1930. Rowman & Littlefield, Wilmington.

Colmenares, Germán 1986 La Economía de los Jesuitas en el Virreinato de la Nueva Granada». Bauer, AJ (compilador), in La Iglesia en la Economía de América Latina. INAH, México D.F.

Colwell-Chanthaphonh, Chip, and T. J. Ferguson 2006a Trust and Archaeological Practice: Towards a Framework of Virtue Ethics. The ethics of archaeology: philosophical perspectives on archaeological practice: 115–130.

2006b Rethinking abandonment in archaeological contexts. SAA Archaeological Record 6(1): 37–41.

Comaroff, Jean, and John L. Comaroff 1993 Modernity and its Malcontents: Ritual and Power in Postcolonial Africa. University of Chicago Press.

CONAMUNE 2006 Agenda Política de Mujeres Negras del Ecuador, Quito.

CONAMUNE Imbabura and Carchi 2015 Agenda Política de Mujeres Afrodescendientes del Territorio Ancestral de Imbabura y Carchi, Quito.

Cornero, Silvia, and Carlos Ceruti 2012 Registro Arqueologico Afro-Rioplatense en Pajaro Blanco, Alejandra, Santa Fe: Analisis e Interpretacion. Teoria y Practica de la Arqueologia Historica latinoamericana I: 67–78.

Coronel, Rosario 1987 Riego Colonial: de la Coca a la Caña en el Valle del Chota. Ecuador Debate 14: 47–68.

1991 El valle sangriento de los Indígenas de la coca y el algodón a la hacienda cañera jesuita: 1586-1700. FLACSO-Sede Ecuador y Ediciones Abya-Yala, Quito.

Coronel, Rosario, and Savoia Rafael 1988 Indios y esclavos negros en el Valle del Chota colonial. in El Negro en la Historia del Ecuador y del Sur de Colombia: 171–188. Centro Cultural Afroecuatoriano, Quito.

111

Corruccini, Robert S., Arthur C. Aufderheide, Jerome S. Handler, and L. E. Wittmers 1987 Patterning of Skeletal Lead Content in Barbados Slaves. Archaeometry 29(2): 233–239.

Corruccini, Robert S., Jerome S. Handler, and Keith P. Jacobi 1985 Chronological Distribution of Enamel Hypoplasias and Weaning in a Caribbean Slave Population. Human Biology: 699–711.

Corruccini, Robert S., Jerome S. Handler, Robert J. Mutaw, and Frederick W. Lange 1982 Osteology of a Slave Burial Population from Barbados, West Indies. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 59(4): 443–459.

Corruccini, Robert S., Keith P. Jacobi, Jerome S. Handler, and Arthur C. Aufderheide 1987 Implications of Tooth Root Hypercementosis in a Barbados Slave Skeletal Collection. American journal of physical anthropology 74(2): 179–184.

Cortez, Amada 2009 Me llaman la Cimarrona. Quito.

Crenshaw, Kimberle 1991 Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color. Stanford Law Review: 1241–1299.

Cuddy, Thomas W., and Mark P. Leone 2008 New Africa Understanding the Americanization. In Collaboration in Archaeological Practice: Engaging Descendant Communities, edited by Colwell- Chanthaphonh, C., & Ferguson, T. J.: 203–223.

Curtoni, Rafael P., and Gustavo G. Politis 2006 Race and Racism in South American Archaeology. World Archaeology 38(1): 93–108.

Cushner, Nicholas P. 1975 Slave Mortality and Reproduction on Jesuit Haciendas in Colonial Peru. The Hispanic American Historical Review 55(2): 177–199.

1982 Farm and Factory: the Jesuits and the Development of Agrarian Capitalism in Colonial Quito, 1600-1767. State University of New York Press, New York.

Davis, Angela Y. 2011 Women, Race, and Class. Vintage Books, New York.

De Souza, Marcos André Torres, and Camilla Agostini 2012 Body Marks, Pots, and Pipes: Some Correlations between African Scarifications and Pottery Decoration in Eighteenth-And Nineteenth-Century Brazil. Historical Archaeology: 102–123.

112

De Souza, Marcos André Torres, and Luís Cláudio Pereira Symanski 2009 Slave Communities and Pottery Variability in Western Brazil: The Plantations of Chapada dos Guimarães. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 13(4): 513–548.

Eberwine Jr, James Joseph 2005 Improving the Relationship Between Archaeologists and Non- Archaeologists Involved in the Excavation of African American Cemeteries. MA. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Florida State University, Tallahassee.

Emerson, Matthew C. 1991 Decorated Clay Tobacco Pipes from the Chesapeake: An African connection. PhD. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley

1999 African inspirations in a New World Art and Artifact: Decorated tobacco Pipes from the Chesapeake. I, Too, Am America’’: Archaeological Studies of African-American Life. Edited by Theresa Singleton, pp. 47–82. University Press of Virginia, Charlottesville.

Falola, Toyin 2013 The African Diaspora Slavery, Modernity, and Globalization. University of Rochester Press, Rochester.

Fennell, Christopher C. 2003 Group Identity, Individual Creativity, and Symbolic Generation in a Bakongo Diaspora. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 7(1): 1–31.

Ferguson, Leland 1980 Looking for the “Afro” in Colono-Indian pottery. Archaeological perspectives on ethnicity in America: 14–28.

1999 The Cross is a Magic Sign: Marks on Eighteenth-Century Bowls from South Carolina. I, Too, Am America: Archaeological Studies of African-American Life, edited by Theresa Singleton pp:116–31. University of Virginia Press, Charlottesville.

2012 Uncommon Ground: Archaeology and Early African America, 1650-1800. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Folleco, Alí Omar 2009 La Historia del Pueblo Negro en La Concepción. Creadores Gráficos, Ibarra.

Franklin, Maria, and Robert Paynter 2010 Inequality and Archaeology. Voices in American Archaeology. Edited by Wendy Ashmore, Dorothy Lippert and Barbara Mills, pp. 94–130.

113

Fromont, Cécile 2011 Under the Sign of the Cross in the Kingdom of Kongo: Religious Conversion and Visual Correlation in Early Modern Central Africa. RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics 59(1): 109–123.

Funari, Pedro Paulo A., and Charles E. Orser Jr 2015 Current Perspectives on the Archaeology of African Slavery in Latin America. Springer, Vanderbilt University, Nashville.

Galanidou, Nena, and Liv Helga Dommasnes 2007 Telling Children About the Past: an Interdisciplinary Perspective. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

García, Jesús Chucho 2001 Comunidades Afroamericanas y Transformaciones Sociales. CLACSO.

Gargallo, F. 2013 Feminismos desde Abya Yala. Ideas y Proposiciones de las Mujeres de 607 Pueblos en Nuestra América, México.

Garrow, Patrick H., and Thomas R. Wheaton 1989 Colonoware Ceramics: The Evidence from Yaughan and Curriboo Plantations. Studies in South Carolina Archaeology: Essays in Honor of Robert L. Stephenson: 193–206.

Gilroy, Paul 1993 The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. Harvard University Press, Harvard.

2013 There Ain’t no Black in the Union Jack. Routledge, London and New York.

Glissant, Edouard 2002 The Unforeseeable Diversity of the World. Beyond dichotomies: Histories, Identities, Cultures, and the Challenge of Globalization. Edited by Elisabeth Mudimbe- Boyi, pp. 287–96. State University of New York Press, New York.

2008 Creolization in the Making of the Americas. Caribbean Quarterly 54(1/2): 81–89.

Glissant, Édouard, Aura Marina Boadas, and Amelia Hernández 2005 El Discurso Antillano. Monte Avila Editores Latinoamerica, Caracas.

Glissant, Edouard, and Betsy Wing 1997 Poetics of Relation. University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor.

114

Glynn, Laura 1983 Anotaciones Sobre los Negros en el Ecuador. Cuadernos de Nueva.

Gnecco, Cristóbal 1999 Archaeology and Historical Multivocality. Archaeology in Latin America. Edited by Gustavo Politis and Benjamin Alberti, pp.258-270. Routledge, London and New York.

2002 La Indigenización de las Arqueologías Nacionales. Convergencia Revista de Ciencias Sociales(27):133-149.

González-Tennant, Edward 2013 New Heritage and Dark Tourism: A Mixed Methods Approach to Social Justice in Rosewood, Florida. Heritage & Society 6(1): 62–88.

2014 The “Color” of Heritage: Decolonizing Collaborative Archaeology in the Caribbean. Journal of African Diaspora Archaeology and Heritage 3(1): 26–50.

Hall, Stuart 1990 Cultural Identity and Diaspora. Framework (36): 222-237

1991 The Local and the Global: Globalization and ethnicity. Cultural politics 11 (1997): 173-187.

Hall, Gwendolyn 2005 Slavery and African ethnicities in the Americas: restoring the links. Universtoy of North Caroline Press.

Hammer, Deborah Stokes 1994 The William B. Fagg Archive. African Arts 27(3): 84–89.

Handler, Jerome S. 1997 An African-type Healer/Diviner and his Grave Goods: A Burial from a Plantation Slave Cemetery in Barbados, West Indies. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 1(2): 91–130.

2008 Aspects of the Atlantic Slave Trade: Smoking Pipes, Tobacco, and the Middle Passage. African Diaspora Archaeology Newsletter 11(2): 5.

2009 The Middle Passage and the Material Culture of Captive Africans. Slavery and Abolition 30(1): 1–26.

Handler, Jerome S., and Robert S. Corruccini 1983 Plantation Slave Life in Barbados: A Physical Anthropological Analysis. The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 14(1): 65–90.

115

Harrison, Faye V. 2009 9. Reconciling Perspectives on the World’s Diverse Women and Cultures of Gender: Toward New Syntheses for the 21st Century. Anthropology now: Essays by the scientific commissions of IUAES and history of the IUAES. Beijing.

Hauser, Mark W. 2011 Routes and Roots of Empire: Pots, Power, and Slavery in the 18th-Century British Caribbean. American Anthropologist 113(3): 431–447.

Hauser, Mark W., and Audrey R. Dawson 2009 An Archaeology of Black Markets: Local Ceramics and Economies in Eighteenth-Century Jamaica. African Diaspora Archaeology Newsletter 12(4): 32.

Hauser, Mark W., and Christopher R. DeCorse 2003 Low-fired Earthenwares in the African Diaspora: Problems and Prospects. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 7(1): 67–98. hooks, bell 2004 Mujeres Negras. Dar forma a la Teoría Deminista. Otras Inapropiables. Feminismos desde las fronteras. Edited by Traficantes de Sueños, pp. 33–50, Madrid.

Jamieson, Ross. W., R. G. V. Hancock, L. A. Beckwith, and A. E. Pidruczny 2013 Neutron Activation Analysis of Inca and Colonial Ceramics from Central Highland Ecuador. Archaeometry 55(2): 198–213.

Jamieson, Ross W. 1995 Material Culture and Social Death: African-American Burial Practices. Historical Archaeology: 39–58.

1996 The Domestic Architecture and Material Culture of Colonial Cuenca, Ecuador, AD 1600-1800. Archaeology, University of Calgary, Calgary.

2001 Majolica in the Early Colonial Andes: the Role of Panamanian Wares. Latin American Antiquity: 45–58.

2014 Hacienda Ruins as Sites of Difficult Memory in Chimborazo, Ecuador. Journal of Social Archaeology 14(2): 224–243.

Jijón y Caamaño, Jacinto 1912 Contribución al Conocimiento de los Aborígenes de la Provincia de Imbabura en la República del Ecuador. Tip. y Encuadernación Salesianas, Quito.

Joyce, Rosemary A. 2008 Practice in and as Deposition. Memory work: Archaeologies of Material Practices: 25–39.

116

Khudabux, Mohamed 1989 Signs of Physical Strain as Indications of Health Status During Growth in a Negro Slave Population in Surinam (SA). Advances in Paleopathology: 131–34.

1991 Effects of Life Conditions on the Health of a Negro Slave Community in Suriname: with Reference to Similar Aspects in Local Pre-Columbian Amerindians. University of Leiden, Leiden.

Klaus, Haagen D. 2013 Hybrid Cultures... and Hybrid Peoples: Bioarchaeology of Genetic Change, Religious Architecture, and Burial Ritual in the Colonial Andes. Hybrid Material Culture: The Archaeology of Syncretism and Ethnogenesis, pp. 207–238. Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale.

Kostro, Mark, and Christopher C. Fennell 2010 Crossroads and Cosmologies: Diasporas and Ethnogenesis in the New World. African Diaspora Archaeology Newsletter 10.3 (2007): 16.

Lane, Kris E. 2000 Captivity and Redemption: Aspects of Slave Life in Early Colonial Quito and Popayán. The Americas 57(2): 225–246.

2002 Quito 1599: City and Colony in Transition. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.

Lao-Montes, Agustin 2007 Decolonial Moves: Trans-locating African Diaspora Spaces. Cultural Studies 21(2-3): 309–338.

Lara, Barbarita, Daniela Balanzátegui, Olga Maldonado, and Ana María Morales 2014 Jardín de la Memoria “Martina Carrillo”, Propuesta para la Revitalización del Panteón Viejo, Cementerio de la Diáspora Africana, La Concepción (Siglo XVII-XX). CONAMUNE-Carchi y Plataforma AADA, La Concepción.

LaRoche, Cheryl J., and Michael L. Blakey 1997 Seizing Intellectual Power: the Dialogue at the New York African Burial Ground. Historical Archaeology 31: 84–106.

Leone, Mark P., Cheryl Janifer LaRoche, and Jennifer J. Babiarz 2005 The Archaeology of Black Americans in Recent Times. Annual Review Anthropology 34: 575–598.

Lewis, Laura A. 2003 Hall of Mirrors: Power, Witchcraft, and Caste in Colonial Mexico. Duke University Press Books, Durham and London.

117

Lister, Florence Cline, and Robert Hill Lister 1977 A Descriptive Dictionary for 500 years of Spanish-tradition Ceramics (13th through 18th centuries). Special Publication Series N. 1. Society for Historical Archaeology.

Logue, Kyle D. 2004 Repartions as Redistribution. BUL Rev. 84: 1319-1373.

Lorde, Audre 1977 Sister outsider: Essays and speeches, Crossing Press, New York.

Lovejoy, Paul E. 1997 The African Diaspora: Revisionist Interpretations of Ethnicity, Culture and Religion under Slavery. Studies in the World History of Slavery, Abolition and Emancipation, II, 1.

Lucena Salmoral, Manuel 1995 El Segundo Código Negro Español, la Religión, la Humanidad y la Tranquilidad y Quietud públicas: la Crítica Realizada en 1788 al Código Carolino, Madrid.

Lugones, María 2012 Subjetividad Esclava, Colonialidad de Género, Marginalidad y Opresiones Múltiples. Pensando los Feminismos en Bolivia, Serie Foros 2: 129–140.

Luna, Milton 2000 Lectura Comparada del Discurso nacionalista de los Textos Escolares de Historia de Ecuador y Perú. Procesos. Revista Ecuatoriana de Historia 1(15): 157–167.

Macera, Pablo 1966 Instrucciones para el Manejo de las Haciendas Jesuitas del Peru: ss. XVII- XVIII). Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima.

Marshall, Yvonne 2002 What is Community Archaeology? World Archaeology 34(2): 211–219.

Martinez Novo, Carmen, and Carlos de la Torre 2010 Racial Discrimination and Citizenship in Ecuador’s Educational System. Latin American and Caribbean ethnic studies 5(1): 1–26.

Matthews, Christopher N. 2008 The location of Archaeology. Ethnographic Archaeologies: reflections on stakeholders and archaeological practices. Edited by Quetzil Castañeda, and Christopher N. Matthews, pp. 157–182 ,AltaMira Press, Lanham.

118

McCarthy, John P. 2008 The Archaeology of Community Identity in the Past and Remembrance in the Present. American Nineteenth Century History 9(3): 305–314.

McDavid, Carol 1997 Descendants, Decisions, and Power: The Public Interpretation of the Archaeology of the Levi Jordan Plantation. Historical Archaeology: 114–131.

2002 Archaeologies that Hurt; Descendants that Matter: A Pragmatic Approach to Collaboration in the Public Interpretation of African-American Archaeology. World archaeology 34(2): 303–314.

Métraux, Alfred 1972 Voodoo in Haiti. 1959. Schocke, New York.

Meyers, Allan D. 1999 West African Tradition in the Decoration of Colonial Jamaican Folk Pottery. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 3(4): 201–223.

Mills, Barbara J. 1996 The Archaeological Field School in the 1990s: Collaboration in Research and Training. Society for American Archaeology Bulletin 14: 18–20.

2008 Field Schools without Trowels Teaching Archaeological Ethics and Heritage Preservation in a Collaborative Context Barbara J. Mills, Mark Altaha, John R. Welch, and TJ Ferguson. Collaborating at the Trowel’s Edge: Teaching and Learning in Indigenous Archaeology 2: 25.

Minda, Pablo 2014 La Marimba como Patrimonio Cultural Inmaterial. Serie Estudios. Instituto Nacional de Patrimonio Cultural, Quito.

Mintz, Sidney Wilfred, and Richard Price 1976 The Birth of African-American Culture: An Anthropological Perspective. 2. Beacon Press, Boston.

Mora, Mariana 2014 Repensando la Política y la Decolonización en Minúscula: Reflexiones sobre Praxis Feminista desde el Zapatismo. In Más Allá del Feminismo: Caminos para Andar. MIllan M. (edit), pp. 155–182. Mexico City.

Morales, Ana María 2016 La Búsqueda de una Re-Construcción del Ser en La Nación: El Caso de la Comunidad Afrodescendiente y El Ferrocarril De La Libertad, presented at the Octavo TAAS (Reunión de Teoría Arqueológica de América del Sur), May, La Paz, Bolivia.

119

Morgan, Philip D. 1997 The Cultural Implications of the Atlantic Slave Trade: African Regional Origins, American Destinations and New World Developments. Slavery and Abolition 18(1): 122–145.

Moshenska, Gabriel 2009 Resonant Materiality and Violent Remembering: Archaeology, Memory and Bombing. International Journal of Heritage Studies 15(1): 44–56.

Mouer, L. Daniel, Mary Ellen N. Hodges, Stephen R. Potter, Susan L. Henry Renaud, I.Noël Hume, Dennis J. Pogue, Martha W. McCartney, and Thomas E. Davidson 1999 Colonoware Pottery, Chesapeake Pipes, and “Uncritical Assumptions”. I, Too, Am America’’: Archaeological Studies of African-American Life. Edited by Theresa Singleton.

Nora, Pierre 1996 From Lieux de Mémoire to Realms of Memory. Realms of memory: Rethinking the French past 1: 1–21.

Norman, Neil Lindsey 2000 Through the Medium of the Vessel: an Ethnoarchaeological Investigation of Ritual Earthenwares in Southern Benin, West Africa. MA. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of South Carolina, Columbia.

Ogundiran, Akinwumi O. 2001 Ceramic Spheres and Regional Networks in the Yoruba-Edo Region, Nigeria, 13th–19th centuries AC. Journal of Field Archaeology 28(1-2): 27–43.

Orser, Charles E. 1994 The Archaeology of African-American Slave Religion in the Antebellum South. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 4(01): 33–45.

Osorio, Jorge, and Graciela Rubio 2006 El Deseo de la Memoria. Escritura e historia. Facultad de Humanidades y Política, Santiago.

Pabón, Iván 2007 Identidad Afro: Procesos de Construcción en las Comunidades Negras de la Cuenca Chota-Mira. Editorial Abya Yala, Quito.

2009 La Etnoeducación: Una Propuesta Desde los Afroecuatorianos. Mallki: Revista Pedagógica Bimensual de Educación Intercultural 5: 1–11.

Picket, Elliot 1971 The Animal Horn in African Art. African Arts 4(4): 47–80.

120

Price, Richard 2010 Travels with Tooy: History, Memory, and the African American Imagination. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Rahier, Jean 1998 Blackness, the Racial/Spatial Order, Migrations, and Miss Ecuador 1995- 96. American Anthropologist 100(2): 421–430.

1999 Mami, que Será lo que Quiere el Negro? Representaciones Racistas en la Revista Vistazo. Ecuador racista: Imágenes e identidades. Flacso, Quito.

Rahier, Jean , and Mamyrah Dougé-Prosper 2014 Los Afrodescendientes y el Giro hacia el Multiculturalismo en las “Nuevas” Constituciones y Otras Legislaciones Especiales Latinoamericanas: Particularidades de la Región Andina. Revista de Estudos e Pesquisas sobre as Américas 8(1): 220–237.

Rice, Prudence M. 2015 Pottery Analysis: a Sourcebook. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Roberts, Daniel G., and J. P. McCarthy 1995 Descendant Community Partnering in the Archaeological and Bioanthropological Investigations of African American Skeletal Populations: Two Interrelated Case Studies from Philadelphia. Wiley-Liss, New York.

Rodriguez Alegria, Enrique, Solange Alberro, JamesS Amelang, Berta AresQueija, Nan Rothschild, Eric van Young, and Enrique RodrguezAlegra 2005 Eating Like an Indian: Negotiating Social Relations in the Spanish Colonies 1. Current Anthropology 46(4): 551–573.

De Ron, Antonio 1696 Libro de Composiciones de Tierras del Colegio de la Compañía de Jesús, Hechas por Antonio De Ron En 1696. Trans. P. Francisco Piñas Rubio S.J. Quito, Ecuador. Fundación Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Aurelio Espinosa Pólit (FBEAEP).

Salomon, Frank 1986 Native Lords of Quito in the Age of the Incas: The Political Economy of North Andean Chiefdoms. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Samford, Patricia 1996 The Archaeology of African-American Slavery and Material Culture. The William and Mary Quarterly 53(1): 87–114.

Samudio, Edda O., O. Edda, Emanuele Amodio, Cristián Camacho, and Luis Alberto Ramírez Méndez 2002 La Cotidianidad Esclava en las Haciendas del Colegio San Francisco Javier de Mérida. Procesos Históricos 1(1): 1-62.

121

Schávelzon, Daniel 2003 Buenos Aires Negra: Arqueología Histórica de una Ciudad Silenciada. Emecé Editores, Buenos Aires

2015 Una Pipa Afro Excavada en 1928 en Buenos Aires. Su Dispersión por el Área del Río de la Plata. Contribuciones Científicas GÆA 27: 151–160, Buenos Aires.

Segato, Rita 2011 Género y Colonialidad: En Busca de Claves de Lectura y de un Vocabulario Estratégico Descolonial, in Feminismos y Poscolonialidad. Descolonizando el feminismo desde y en América Latina. Edited by Karina Bidaseca and Vanesa Laba Vazquez. 1–15, Buenos Aires.

Shackel, Paul A., and David A. Gadsby 2008 I Wish for Paradise: Memory and Class in Hampden, Baltimore. Collaboration in archaeological practice. Edited by ChipColwell-Chanthaphonh and TJ Ferguson, pp. 225–242. Rowman Altamira

Shepard, Anna Osler 1956 Ceramics for the Archaeologist. 609. Carnegie Institution of Washington Washington, DC.

Sider, Gerald M., and Gavin A. Smith 1997 Between History and Histories: The Making of Silences and Commemorations. Vol. 11. University of Toronto Press, Toronto.

Silliman, Stephen W. 2008 Collaborative Indigenous Archaeology: Troweling at the Edges, Eyeing the Center. Collaborating at the Trowel’s edge: Teaching and learning in Indigenous archaeology, Edited by Silliman Stephen, pp. 1–21. University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

2009 Change and Continuity, Practice and Memory: Native American Persistence in Colonial New England. American Antiquity: 211–230.

Silliman, Stephen W., and Katherine H. Sebastian Dring 2008 Working on Pasts for Futures: Eastern Pequot Field School Archaeology in Connecticut. Collaborating at the Trowel’s Edge: teaching and learning in indigenous archaeology, pp. 67–87.University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

Da Silva Pereira, Júlio César Medeiros 2007 À Flor da Terra: o Cemitério dos Pretos Novos no Rio de Janeiro. Editora Garamond, Rio de Janeiro.

Singleton, Theresa A. 1996 The Archaeology of Slave life. Images of the Recent Past. Readings in Historical Archaeology. Edited by Charles Orser, pp. 141–165, Altamira Press, Lanham.

122

Singleton, Theresa, and Marcos André Torres de Souza 2009 Archaeologies of the African Diaspora: Brazil, Cuba, and the United States. In International Handbook of Historical Archaeology, pp. 449–469. Springer.

Sinopoli, Carla M. 1991 Approaches to Archaeological Ceramics. Springer US.

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai 1999 Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Zed books, London and New York.

Stutzman, Ronald Lee 1974 Black Highlanders: Racism and Ethnic Stratification in the Ecuadorian Sierra. Washington University, Washington.

Symanski, Luís Cláudio P. 2010 Cerâmicas, Identidades Escravas e Crioulização nos Engenhos de Chapada dos Guimarães (MT). História Unisinos 14(3): 294–310.

Tardieu, J. P. 2006 El Negro en la Real Audiencia de Quito: Siglos XVI-XVIII. Ediciones Abya- Yala, Quito.

Thompson, Robert Farris 1983 Flash of the Spirit. Vintage Books, New York.

Torpey, John, and Maxine Burkett 2010 The Debate over African American Reparations. Annual Review of Law and Social Science 6: 449–467.

Trouillot, Michel-Rolph 1995 Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History. Beacon Press, Boston.

Ubelaker, Douglas H. 2005 Skeletal Biology Research in Ecuador. Studies in Historical Anthropology 2(2002): 45–58.

Ubelaker, Douglas H., and Catherine E. Ripley 1999 The Ossuary of San Francisco Church, Quito, Ecuador: Human Skeletal Biology. 42. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, DC.

Vargas, Marco 2013 Analisis de la Ceramica Cuasmal o Tuza: del Sitio 02c1-044, San Gabriel, Canton Montufar, Provincia del Carchi. Honors dissertation, ESPOL, Guayaquil.

123

Villalba, Jorge 1983 Las Haciendas de los Jesuitas en Pimampiro en el Siglo XVIII. Revista del Instituto de Historia Eclesiástica Ecuatoriana 7: 15–60.

Wade, Peter 1997a Race and Ethnicity in Latin America. Vol. 3. Pluto Press, London, Sterling.

1997b Gente Negra, Nación Mestiza: Dinámicas de las Identidades Raciales en Colombia. Ediciones Uniandes, Bogotá.

Walsh, Catherine Cultural Studies “Others” in the Andes. Cultural studies 21(2-3): 224–239.

2012 “Other” Knowledges,“Other” Critiques: Reflections on the Politics and Practices of Philosophy and Decoloniality in the “Other” America. Transmodernity: Journal of Peripheral Cultural Production of the Luso-Hispanic World 1(3).

Walsh, Catherine, and Juan García 2010 Derechos, Territorio Ancestral y el Pueblo Afroesmeraldeño. Repositorio de la Universidad Andina Simón Bolivar, Quito

2015 Memoria Colectiva, Escritura y Estado. Prácticas Pedagógicas de Existencia Afroecuatoriana. Cuadernos de Literatura 19(38): 79–98.

Weaver, Brendan 2015 Fruit of the Vine, Work of Human Hands": An Archaeology and Ethnohistory of Slavery on the the Jesuit Wine Haciendas of Nasca, Peru. Phd. dissertation, Vanderbilt University, 2015.

Werness, Hope 2006 Continuum Encyclopedia of Animal Symbolism in World Art. A&C Black, New York and London.

Whitten, Norman E. 1992 Pioneros Negros: La Cultura Afro-Latinoamericana del Ecuador y de Colombia. Centro Cultural Afro-Ecuatoriano, Quito.

Wilkie, Laurie A. 2000 Culture Bought: Evidence of Creolization in the Consumer Goods of an Enslaved Bahamian Family. Historical Archaeology: 10–26.

Wilkie, Laurie A., and Paul Farnsworth 1999 Trade and the Construction of Bahamian Identity: a Multiscalar Exploration. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 3(4): 283–320.

124

2005 Sampling Many Pots: an Archaeology of Memory and Tradition at a Bahamian Plantation. African Diaspora Archaeology Newsletter 8(4): 4.

Wilkins, Jasmine Danette 2014 La Construcción de Imaginarios Sociales de Género desde una Perspectiva Afroecuatoriana. Specialization dissertation, FLACSO, Quito.

Wylie, Alison 2015 A Plurality of Pluralisms: Collaborative Practice in Archaeology. In Objectivity in Science, pp. 189–210. Springer.

Zambrano, María Giulianna 2010 La Formación Racial y resignificación de la Justicia Social en el Valle del Chota. MA. dissertation, FLACSO, Quito.

Zorzi, Flavia, and Daniel G. Schávelzon 2016 Terracotta Pipes with Triangular Engravings. African Diaspora Archaeology Newsletter 15(1): 7.

125

Appendix A. Ceramic Analysis: Methodology

1. Sample Selection

Five units were excavated in Teresa Montero midden (TM1-UPB2, TM1-UPB3, TM2U1, TM2-U1E, TM2-U1SE). All units were 1x1m except unit TM2U1 that was 2x2m. A total of 8 m2 were excavated from this site. The first field season TM1 UPB2 and TM1 UPB3 and during the second season TM2U1, TM2U1E and TM2U1SE were excavated. Eight levels were defined in this midden, and all the material found in the excavation was gathered up for the analysis. The materials were washed and transported to the lab. Numbers were assigned to excavation units for publication purposes (table 1).

Table 1 Unit number assigned to excavation units

• Original Unit • Unit Name Number • UPB2 • 1 • UPB3 • 2 • U1 • 3 • U1E • 4 • U1SE • 5

All sherds (N:7,889; W:455.8 kg) and tiles (N: 3,224, W: 88.172kg) from Teresa Montero midden excavation, were lay out in a table according to unit and level starting with the upper level to the deepest ones (from level 1 to 8). The materials were classified in groups according to their similarity in color of paste, decoration, and surface treatment. General characteristics were registered for each group in order to match with the classification of diagnostic sherds, except for tiles that were not analyzed in this study. Only diagnostics were analyzed one by one, intending to gain a more accurate classification. A total number of 745 sherds and 96,27 kg were analyzed, representing 9.4% of the collection based on number of sherd and 21.1% of the collection based on weight of sherds. Diagnostics included: decorated ceramics, Hand-made UCEceramics with fingerprints, special forms (e.g. figurines, pipes, bottle top, and other unknown forms), and morphological indictors (e.g. rims, bases, feet and handles). A total of 465 sherds that stood for the inference of forms were used in morphological analysis.

126

The ID used for identifying the materials combines the name of the site, the field season, unit of excavation, and level. For example TM2-U1E-N2 is the code for the materials from Teresa Montero Site (TM), from the Second season (2), Unit One East (U1E), Level 2 (N2). The materials were classified according to the site, unit, and level.

2. Classification

Two separate classifications were used to investigate this ceramic collection and then unified: the first based on a combination of fabric, surface treatment and decoration (named as sherd families); and the second on vessel morphology. The intention of this analysis is to learn from the local ceramic fabrics. I have used weight instead of sherd counts for assessing proportions of ceramic remains from the assemblage (for an extended discussion see Orton 1993a). The software employed for these analyses include JMP 12.0.1 for assessing descriptive statistics in both sherd families and vessel morphology, and AutoCAD 2015 for drawing profiles out of formal indicators and displaying their classification in morphological classes and forms.

2.1. Ceramic Fabric-Surface Treatment- Decoration

All sherds from this site have been identified as coarse earthenware and grouped into groups of ceramic fabrics using the application of glaze as a major unit of variation to differentiate Spanish traditions vs. local, African or indigenous traditions (Deagan 2011, Lister and Lister 1987). The coarse earthenware group was divided into Unglazed Coarse Earthenware (UCE) and Glazed Coarse Earthenware (GCE). The Unglazed Coarse Earthenware group was further subgroup according to shaping technic into Hand-made UCE and Wheel-made UCE. The Glazed Coarse Earthenware group was subgroup based on color of glaze into Colorless GCE, Cream GCE, Pinkish White GCE, Blue over White GCE, Polychrome (brown, green, cream, and/or yellow) GCE (referred in the rest of the text only as Polychrome GCE, and White GCE . Each fabric subgroup was analyzed in terms of fabric variables (Orton 1993a). I have chosen these attributes by following published Spanish colonial ceramic typologies (Deagan 2011, Lister and Lister 1987), locally made Prehispanic classifications. Fabric attributes include the texture and colour of paste, which depends on the clay attributes, but also on the process of firing the pots. The fabric variables were narrowed to paste colour, shaping technique, firing marks, sand particle size, and distribution of inclusions, obtained by visual inspection of sherd cross-section and comparison with Munsell soil colour charts. Paste colour is a consequence of the mineral composition of clay and the firing process (Rice 1987,

127

Shepard 1980).Diagram of Coarse Earthenware Groups and Subgroups based on ceramic fabric features

Hand-made Unglazed UCE Coarse Earthenware Shaping Technic (UCE) Wheel-made UCE

Colorless GCE COARSE EARTHENWARE Cream GCE

Green GCE

Glazed Coarse Earthenware Pinkish White (GCE) Color of Glaze GCE

Blue over White GCE

Polychrome GCE

White GCE

Paste colours were classified in 7 groups, based on Munsell color charts: 2.5yr, 5yr, 7.5yr, and 10yr. Paste texture depends on the distribution of inclusions and size of sand particles. Proportion of mottles and coarse fragments in temper is measured on a scale from 1% to 50% according to Folk 1951 (in Munsell and Color 2000). The percentage represents the degree of uniformity of particle size distributed in the paste. One percent is the highest degree of uniformity and 50% indicates that the inclusions were poorly sorted and varied widely in size . Size of sand particles was categorized as very fine, fine, medium, coarse, or very coarse based on Munsell particle size charts .

Charts for estimating proportions of mottles and coarse fragments adapted from Folk, 1951 in Munsell and Color 2000.

128

129

Charts for estimating grain size in Munsell and Color 2000.

In general, vessels with more uniformly distributed and finer particles will have a lower porosity and harder paste (Sinopoli 1991). Ceramics were also analyzed in terms of surface treatment and decoration. These characteristics are the result of stylistic decisions of the artisans and the workshop that elaborated them (Orton 1993a, Sinopoli 1991). Painting, glaze color, and incisions or other extra details over the surface treatment were considered as decoration attributes.

2.2. Morphological classification

In this study, vessel shapes were assigned based in the comparison to previous archaeological studies, but mainly using Shepard’s principals for vessel shape classifications with reference to vessel contours and the ratio of orifice diameter vs. body diameter (Shepard 1976, Rice 1987). Therefore, according Shepard’s classification, shapes are “differentiated by characteristic points of curvature or angling of the vessel contour; structural terms, principally orifice characteristics; and geometric solids and surfaces” (Rice 1987). The points that determine the contours of a vessel are, end point, tangent point, corner point and inflection point. The end points are in the mouth and base of the vessel. The tangent points marking where the tangent of curvature of body or neck is vertical. When the vessel wall direction

130

changes, if change is smooth is called an inflection point, if the change is abrupt, it is called a corner point. Based in the identification of these points, a vessel could has a simple contour when the silhouette has an uninterrupted wall, a composite contour when has a single corner point, an inflicted contour when has a single inflection point, and a complex contour when has two or more corner or inflection points. Vessels are classified as unrestricted when the tangent at the end point is inclined outward, simple and dependent restricted when inclined inward, and independent restricted (necked vessels) when a corner point or an inflection point occurs above a major point. The restricted orifice has a diameter less than the maximum vessel diameter, and the unrestricted has the maximum vessel diameter (Shepard 1980 and Rice 1987).

A total of 395 rims, 64 bases and one foot were used for vessel classification. Illustrations of rim sherds were sorted into three formal classes: unrestricted (U), restricted (R), and independent restricted (IR), based in the recognition of their contour, rim and body direction and rim diameter (Shepard 1980, Sinopoli 1991). Some rims could not be assigned to a particular vessel morphology, however their rim direction allowed me to assign them a tentative form and size and group them as Independent Restricted or Unrestricted (IRorU). To determine rim direction, the border of the mouth is used as the axis to measure the angle of the rim, with vessels classified into three groups: everted (between 20 and 89 degrees), straight (90 degrees), and inverted rims (between 91 and 150 degrees). To measure the body direction, the neck of IR, IRorU and the mouth of R vessels were used as the axis to measure the angle of the body.

Even if base sherds have been considered less informative than rim sherds (Rice 1987), all bases (N:64) were classified according to their form (flat, rounded, with pedestal) and sub- grouped by the measurement of body direction measured from the base. All other sherds and complete pieces that had a particular form difficult to include in a class were classified as Special Forms (SP) including seven pipes, a Hand-made UCE objects, figurines, and feet.

131

Appendix B. Ceramic Analysis: Summary Tables of Groups of Ceramic Fabric

A 97% of Unglazed Coarse Earthenware and 3% of Glazed Coarse Earthenware forms the entire ceramic collection, based on weight. The proportions of diagnostic ceramics are representative of the total collection (Table 1). The summary tables of diagnostic sherds are presented by Ceramic Fabric groups, subgroups comparing fabric attributes of number of sherds, total weight of sherds in grams, and percentage grain size in the temper; mean and standard deviation of proportions of coarse fragments and mottles; number of sherds, total weight of sherds in grams, and percentage color of paste, firing technique, external surface treatment, internal surface treatment, type of inclusions, presence/absence of hearth blackening, and decoration.

Summary Tables of Diagnostics Sherds by Ceramic Fabrics (Groups and subgroups)

Table 1 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage by groups of Ceramic Fabric Number of Groups of Ceramic Fabric % Weight (g) % Sherds Unglazed Coarse Earthenware (UCE) 536 71.95% 93,188.50 96.81% Glazed Coarse Earthenware (GCE) 209 28.05% 3,075.10 3.19% Totals 745 100% 96,263.60 100%

132

Table 2 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of Unglazed Coarse Earthenware (UCE) by Shaping Technique (Subgroups) Number of UCE by Shaping Technique % Weight (g) % Sherds Hand-made 176 23.62% 21,207.10 22.76% Wheel-made 360 48.32% 71,981.40 77.24% Totals 745 100% 93,188.50 100%

Table 3 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of Glazed Coarse Earthenware by Color of Glaze (Subgroups) Number of GCE by Color of Glaze % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless Glaze 2 0.96% 21 0.68% Cream Glaze 2 0.96% 57 1.85% Green Glaze 82 39.23% 1,460.40 47.49% Pinkish White Glaze 2 0.96% 52.1 1.69% Blue over white Glaze 2 0.96% 13.8 0.45% Polychrome Glaze 113 54.07% 1,399.40 45.51% White Glaze 6 2.87% 71.4 2.32% Totals 209 100% 3,075.10 100%

133

Summary Tables of Unglazed Coarse Earthenware (UCE) Ceramics

Table 4 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique according to Grain Size UCE by Shaping Number of Grain Size % Weight (g) % Technique Sherds Hand-made UCE Very fine 18 10.23% 273.20 1.29% Fine 78 44.32% 4,765.30 22.47% Medium 28 15.91% 2,267.80 10.69% Coarse 52 29.55% 13,900.80 65.55% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made UCE Very fine 5 1.39% 100.5 0.14% Fine 90 25.00% 3,692.40 5.13% Medium 32 8.89% 1,780.60 2.47% Coarse 233 64.72% 66,407.90 92.26% Subtotal 360 100% 71,981.40 77% Totals 536 93,188.50

Table 5 UCE by Shaping Technique: mean and standard deviation of proportions of coarse fragments and mottles (Folk 1951 in Munsell and Color 2000). Number of Shaping technique Mean Std Dev Sherds Hand-made UCE 11.77% 9.58 176 Wheel-made UCE 20.09% 9.01 360 Total 536

134

Table 6 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique according to Color of Paste UCE by Shaping Color of Number of % Weight (g) % Technique Paste Sherds Hand-made UCE 10 YR 34 19.32% 2,410.60 11.37% 2.5 YR 37 21.02% 5,137.00 24.22% 5 YR 68 38.64% 11,505.10 54.25% 7.5 YR 37 21.02% 2,154.40 10.16% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made UCE 10 YR 26 7.22% 3,532.10 4.91% 2.5 YR 101 28.06% 20,647.30 28.68% 5 YR 192 53.33% 42,158.40 58.57% 7.5 YR 41 11.39% 5,643.60 7.84% Subtotal 360 100% 71981.4 100% Totals 536 93,188.50

Table 7 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique according to Firing Technique Number UCE by Shaping Firing of % Weight (g) % Technique Technique Sherds Hand-made UCE Oxidation 142 80.68% 17,711.50 83.52% Reducting 34 19.32% 3,495.60 16.48% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made UCE Oxidation 310 86.11% 62,544.40 86.89% Reducting 50 13.89% 9,437.00 13.11% Subtotal 360 100% 71,981.40 100% Totals 536 93,188.50

135

Table 8 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique according to External Surface Treatment Number UCE by Shaping External surface treatment of % Weight (g) % Technique Sherds Hand-made UCE Burnished 2 1.14% 115.5 0.54% Coarse 12 6.82% 1,161.00 5.47% Coarse with cord marks 2 1.14% 91.6 0.43% Coarse with fingerprints 4 2.27% 998 4.71% Eroded 1 0.57% 7.2 0.03% Glazed 1 0.57% 15.9 0.07% Polished 16 9.09% 428 2.02% Smoothed 87 49.43% 10,290.60 48.52% Smoothed with fingerprints 5 2.84% 479 2.26% Smoothed with fingerprints and cord 1 0.57% 204 0.96% marks Smoothed and coarse 18 10.23% 2,924.50 13.79%

Smoothed and coarse with fingerprints 1 0.57% 276 1.30%

Smoothed and polished 1 0.57% 278.2 1.31% Smoothed with cord marks 23 13.07% 3,745.60 17.66% Smoothed with fingerprints 2 1.14% 192 0.91% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made UCE Coarse 15 4.17% 4,496.50 6.25% Polished 5 1.39% 104.8 0.15% Red slipped 5 1.39% 131 0.18% Smoothed 314 87.22% 61,598.10 85.58% Smoothed and coarse 9 2.50% 2,587.40 3.59% Smoothed and polished 1 0.28% 44.6 0.06% Smoothed with cord marks 11 3.06% 3,019.00 4.19% Subtotal 360 100% 71981.4 100% Totals 536 93,188.50

136

Table 9 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique according to Internal Surface Treatment UCE by Shaping Number of Internal surface treatment % Weight (g) % Technique Sherds Hand-made UCE Burnished 3 1.70% 124 0.58% Coarse 13 7.39% 1,268.00 5.98% Coarse with cord marks 6 3.41% 519.7 2.45% Eroded 1 0.57% 7.2 0.03% Polished 16 9.09% 753.2 3.55% Smoothed 114 64.77% 15,245.30 71.89% Smoothed with fingerprints 1 0.57% 54 0.25% Smoothed and coarse 13 7.39% 2,167.30 10.22% Smoothed with cord marks 6 3.41% 603.4 2.85% Smoothed with fingerprints 2 1.14% 463 2.18% Smoothed-polished 1 0.57% 2 0.01% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made Coarse 23 6.39% 5,621.00 7.81% UCE Coarse with cord marks 1 0.28% 64.9 0.09% Polished 9 2.50% 268.5 0.37% Red slipped 5 1.39% 131 0.18% Smoothed 313 86.94% 63,751.60 88.57% Smoothed and coarse 7 1.94% 1,960.30 2.72% Smoothed with cord marks 2 0.56% 184.1 0.26% Subtotal 360 100% 71,981.40 100% Totals 536 93,188.50

137

Table 10 Number of sherds and total weight in grams of UCE by Shaping Technique with a particular combination of observed inclusions on temper UCE by Shaping Number of Weight Observed Type of Inclusions on Temper Technique Sherds (g) Hand-made Mica 7 626 Mica and carbon residues 3 489.6 Mica and red hematite 4 608.7 Mica and white local bedrock 28 4669.3 Mica, red hematite and carbon residues 2 565

Mica, white local bedrock and organic temper 3 298.2

Mica, white local bedrock and red hematite 29 4959.3

Mica, white local bedrock, and carbon residues 19 1702.9

Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues and black pyrite 1 68.9

Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues and organic temper 6 207.1

Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues and white quartz 1 4.5

Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues, black pyrite and 6 174.3 carbon residues

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and carbon residues 19 1155.6

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and black pyrite 2 115.4

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and organic temper 4 337.7

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and silver mineral 1 8.6

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and white quartz 1 7.2

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, white quartz and 1 13.8 organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and carbon 3 241.5 residues

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite, carbon 3 145.5 residues and organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and 1 99.3 crushed rock

138

Number of Weight (g) Observed Type of Inclusions on Temper Sherds

UCE by Shaping Technique Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and Hand-made 5 595.4 organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and 2 202.2 white quartz

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues, white 1 278.2 quartz and organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock and golden mineral 1 33.4

No inclusions 4 2345.5 Red hematite, black pyrite, carbon residues 1 41.9 White local bedrock 2 223 White local bedrock and carbon residues 3 52.5 White local bedrock and organic temper 1 11

White local bedrock and red hematite 1 35.6

White local bedrock, black pyrite and carbon residues 1 6.5

White local bedrock, carbon residues, sand and organic temper 2 156.8 White local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and carbon 1 105.8 residues White local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and organic 1 100.7 temper White local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and organic 6 520.2 temper Crushed rock and organic temper 1 17.7 Wheel-made Mica 22 3095 Mica and carbon residues 3 865 Mica and red hematite 13 3970 Mica and white local bedrock 126 25789.7 Mica, carbon residues and organic temper 1 172.5 Mica, red hematite and carbon residues 16 5203.7

139

UCE by Shaping Number of Observed Type of Inclusions on Temper Weight (g) Technique Sherds Wheel-made Mica, red hematite and organic temper 1 84.8 Mica, red hematite, black pyrite, carbon residues and organic 1 78.2 temper Mica, red hematite, carbon residues and organic temper 1 135.3

Mica, white local bedrock and red hematite 64 13071.9

Mica, white local bedrock, and carbon residues 44 10652.3

Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues, black pyrite and 1 12 carbon residues

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and carbon residues 16 3663.7

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and black pyrite 1 17.9

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and organic temper 3 266.5 Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and carbon 5 245.7 residues Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and organic 1 22.6 temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite, carbon 1 374.6 residues and organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and 3 230.9 organic temper

Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and 1 10.7 white quartz

No inclusions 2 56 Red hematite, black pyrite, carbon residues 1 69.6 White local bedrock 11 2413 White local bedrock and carbon residues 6 203.6 White local bedrock and red hematite 5 931

White local bedrock, black pyrite and carbon residues 1 44.6

White local bedrock, carbon residues and organic temper 1 70.1

White local bedrock, carbon residues, white quartz and organic 1 9.1

140

UCE by Shaping Number of Observed Type of Inclusions on Temper Weight (g) Technique Sherds

White local bedrock, red hematite and black pyrite 1 14.6

White local bedrock, red hematite and carbon residues 2 72.3

White local bedrock, red hematite and organic temper 1 68.1 White local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and carbon 2 27.7 residues White local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and white 1 21 quartz Totals 536 93188.5

Table 11 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of UCE by Shaping Technique grouped by presence of hearth blackening on either internal or external wall of the sherd, or both internal/external walls of the sherd; or absence of hearth blackening on the sherd. UCE by Shaping Number of Hearth blackening % Weight (g) % Technique Sherds Hand-made UCE On external wall 46 26.14% 3,917.90 18.47% On internal wall 11 6.25% 363.9 1.72% On internal and external wall 72 40.91% 10,739.90 50.64% Hearth blackening is absent 47 26.70% 6,185.40 29.17% Subtotal 176 100% 21,207.10 100% Wheel-made UCE On external wall 58 16.11% 11,514.70 16.00% On internal wall 14 3.89% 1,617.80 2.25% On internal and external wall 109 30.28% 27,743.00 38.54% Hearth blackening is absent 179 49.72% 31,105.90 43.21% Subtotal 360 100% 71,981.40 100% Totals 536 93,188.50

141

Table 12 Number of sherds, total weight in grams of UCE with a particular decoration

Type of Decoration Number of Sherds % Weight % Circular perforation 2 2.6% 150.9 1.1% Denticulated neck 1 1.3% 30 0.2% Denticulated rim 1 1.3% 51 0.4% Green painted 1 1.3% 13 0.1% Impressed and Incised decoration 1 1.3% 174 1.3% Impressed decoration 3 3.9% 127.6 1.0% Incised decoration 49 63.6% 11084.7 84.1% Red painted 4 5.2% 212.9 1.6% Wavy hand-made lip 5 6.5% 793.2 6.0% White Painted 10 13.0% 546 4.1% Totals 77 100% 13,183.30 100%

Summary Tables of Glazed Coarse Earthenware (GCE) Ceramics

Table 13 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to Grain Size Number of GCE Subgroups Grain size % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE Fine 2 100% 21 100% Cream GCE Fine 2 100% 57 100% Green GCE Fine 63 76.83% 1,099.30 75.27% Very fine 19 23.17% 361.1 24.73% Subtotal 82 100% 1,460.40 100% Pinkish White GCE Very fine 2 100% 52.1 100% Blue over white GCE Very fine 2 100% 13.8 100% Polychrome GCE Fine 46 40.71% 505 36.09% Very fine 67 59.29% 894.4 63.91% Subtotal 113 100% 1,399.40 100% White GCE Very fine 6 100% 71.4 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

142

Table 14 GCE Subgroups: mean and standard deviation of proportions of coarse fragments and mottles (Folk 1951 in Munsell and Color 2000). Sherds GCE Subgroups Mean Std Dev Number Colorless GCE 7.00 0.00 2 Cream GCE 10.00 0.00 2 Green GCE 6.30 2.74 82 Pinkish White GCE 1.00 0.00 2 Blue over white GCE 2.50 0.71 2 Polychrome GCE 4.26 3.82 113 White GCE 1.33 0.52 6 Totals 5.01 3.56 209

Table 15 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to Color of Paste

GCE Subgroups Number of Color of Paste % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE 5 YR 2 100% 21 100% Cream GCE 5 YR 2 100% 57 100% Green GCE 10 YR 6 7.32% 50.7 3.47% 2.5 YR 1 1.22% 137 9.38% 5 YR 54 65.85% 887.9 60.80% 7.5 YR 21 25.61% 384.8 26.35% Subtotal 82 100% 1,460.40 100% Pinkish White GCE 5 YR 2 100% 52.1 100% Blue over white GCE 5 YR 2 100% 13.8 100% Polychrome GCE 2.5 YR 2 1.77% 17.0 1.21% 5 YR 105 92.92% 1310.3 93.63% 7.5 YR 6 5.31% 72.1 5.15% Subtotal 113 100% 1,399.40 100.0% White GCE 5 YR 3 50.00% 27.5 38.52% 7.5 YR 3 50.00% 43.9 61.48% Subtotal 6 100% 71.40 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

143

Table 16 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to Firing Technique

GCE Subgroups Number of Firing % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE Oxidation 2 100% 21.00 100% Cream GCE Oxidation 2 100% 57.00 100% Green GCE Oxidation 71 87% 1,206.50 83% Reducting 11 13% 253.90 17% Subtotal 82 100% 1,460.40 100% Pinkish White GCE Oxidation 2 100% 52.10 100% Blue over white GCE Oxidation 2 100% 13.80 100% Polychrome GCE Oxidation 108 96% 1,361.00 97% Reducting 5 4% 38.40 3% Subtotal 113 100% 1,399.40 100% White GCE Oxidation 6 100% 71.40 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

Table 17 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to External Surface Treatment Number of GCE Subgroups External Surface Treatment % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE Glazed 2 100% 21.00 100% Cream GCE Glazed 2 100% 57.00 100% Green GCE Glazed 9 11% 63.90 4% Smoothed 63 77% 1,139.00 78% Smoothed and coarse 1 1% 58.30 4% Smoothed and glaze 8 10% 166.00 11% Smoothed, white painted and glazed 1 1% 33.20 2% Subtotal 82 100% 1460.4 100% Pinkish White GCE Glazed 2 100% 52.10 100% Blue over white GCE Glazed 2 100% 13.80 100% Polychrome GCE Glazed 88 78% 1,151.40 82% Smoothed 25 22% 248.00 18% Subtotal 113 100% 1399.4 100% White GCE Glazed 6 100% 71.40 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

144

Table 18 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to Internal Surface Treatment

Number of GCE Subgroups Internal Surface Treatment % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE Glazed 2 100% 21.00 100% Cream GCE Glazed 2 100% 57.00 100% Green GCE Glazed 73 89.02% 1,324.40 90.69% Smoothed 1 1.22% 8.00 0.55% Smoothed and glazed 8 9.76% 128.00 8.76% Subtotal 82 100% 1,460.40 100% Pinkish White GCE Glazed 2 100% 52.10 100% Blue over white GCE Glazed 2 100% 13.80 100% Polychrome GCE Glazed 90 79.65% 1,191.40 85.14% Smoothed 23 20.35% 208.00 14.86% Subtotal 113 100% 1,399.40 100% White GCE Glazed 6 100% 71.40 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

Table 19 Number of sherds, total weight in grams of GCE Subgroups with a particular combination of observed inclusions on temper Sherds GCE Subgroups Type of Inclusions Weight (g) Number Colorless GCE Mica 2 21 Cream GCE Mica 2 57 Green GCE Carbon residues 1 2.3 Mica 22 361 Mica and carbon residues 1 26.5 Mica and white local bedrock 5 130.3 Mica, white local bedrock and crushed rock 1 51.5 Mica, white local bedrock and red hematite 4 78.4 Mica, white local bedrock, and carbon residues 2 30.5 Mica, white local bedrock, carbon residues and black pyrite 1 5.1

145

Sherds GCE Subgroups Type of Inclusions Weight (g) Number Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and carbon residues 1 14.4 Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite and crushed rock 1 10.5 Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, black pyrite and white quartz 1 84.1 Mica, white local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and crushed rock 1 15.1 No inclusions 1 24 White local bedrock 6 85.4 White local bedrock and carbon residues 6 114.5 White local bedrock and crush rock 5 48.6 White local bedrock and red hematite 2 20.7 White local bedrock and sand 1 58.3 White local bedrock and white quartz 2 15.9 White local bedrock, black pyrite and white quartz 1 14.6 White local bedrock, black pyrite, carbon residues and white quartz 1 14.1 White local bedrock, carbon residues and crushed rock 7 131.6 White local bedrock, crush rock, and organic temper 1 5.3 White local bedrock, red hematite and black pyrite 1 17.4 White local bedrock, red hematite and carbon residues 2 20.7

146

Sherds GCE Subgroups Type of Inclusions Weight (g) Number White local bedrock, red hematite and Green GCE crushed rock 3 47.6 White local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and crushed rock 1 4.1 White local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and white quartz 1 27.9 Pinkish White GCE Carbon residues 1 28.5 White local bedrock and carbon residues 1 23.6 Blue over white GCE White local bedrock 1 6.5 White local bedrock and crush rock 1 7.3 Carbon residues 6 95.1 Polychrome GCE Carbon residues and white quartz 1 20.5 Crushed rock 3 42.2 Mica 47 522.9 Mica and carbon residues 1 2 Mica and white local bedrock 1 4 No inclusions 22 284.1 White local bedrock 21 216.6 White local bedrock and carbon residues 6 75.1 White local bedrock and crush rock 3 84.3 White local bedrock and red hematite 1 8.2 White local bedrock, red hematite, carbon residues and crushed rock 1 44.4 White GCE Mica and white local bedrock 1 23.8 No inclusions 2 21.8 White local bedrock 1 8 White local bedrock and carbon residues 1 6.8 White local bedrock and crush rock 1 11

Totals 209 3,075.1

147

Table 20 Number of sherds, total weight in grams, and percentage of GCE Subgroups according to presence of hearth blackening on either internal or external wall of the sherd, or both internal/external walls of the sherd; or absence of hearth blackening on the sherd. Number of GCE Subgroups Hearth blackening % Weight (g) % Sherds Colorless GCE Hearth blackening is absent 2 100% 21.00 100% Cream GCE Hearth blackening is absent 2 100% 57.00 100% Green GCE On external wall 45 54.88% 842.90 57.72% On internal wall 6 7.32% 36.00 2.47% On internal and external wall 13 15.85% 278.80 19.09% Hearth blackening is absent 18 21.95% 302.70 20.73% Subtotal 82 100% 1460.4 100% Pinkish White GCE Hearth blackening is absent 2 100% 52.10 100% Blue over white GCE Hearth blackening is absent 2 100% 13.80 100% Polychrome GCE On external wall 5 3.30% 45.90 3.28% On internal and external wall 3 3.90% 55.00 3.93% Hearth blackening is absent 105 92.80% 1,298.50 92.79% Subtotal 113 100% 1399.4 100% White GCE On internal wall 1 16.7% 6.80 9.5% Hearth blackening is absent 5 83.3% 64.60 90.5% Subtotal 6 100% 71.40 100% Totals 209 3,075.10

Table 21 Recurrent Designs for Polychrome GCE Recurrent Design Motifs Polychrome Design 1: Presents at least two of the following petals or leaves (green or brown), parallel, zigzag or curved lines, sometimes with a blur green, blur brown or yellow painting, motif of line in V form. Polychrome Design 2: Brown or green flower in the center of the base, sometimes with circular lines around. Polychrome Design 3: Brown parallel lines with brown painting in form of grapes.

148

Table 22 Number of sherds, total weight in grams of GCE Subgroups with a particular design or motif

Sherds GCE Subgroups Decoration Weight (g) Number Green GCE White Painting 1 33.2 Pinkish White GCE Green Painting 1 28.5 Blue over white GCE Blue leaves 1 7.3 Blue leaves and steam 1 6.5 Polychrome GCE Green Painting 1 8.1 Polychrome Design 1 70 918.1 Polychrome Design 2 3 103.8 Polychrome Design 3 1 9.9 Polychrome Motif1 1 17.8 White Painting 1 4 Yellow Points 1 2.4 Totals 82 1139.6

149

Appendix C. Ceramic Analysis: Tables of Morphological Analysis

Table 1 MNV of Identified Forms, Unrestricted Class by Subgroup of Ceramic Fabric

Form Subgroup Ceramic Fabric MNV %

Bowl 60 degrees body direction, thick walls UCE Hand-made 1 1.1% Flat Plate GCE Polychrome 1 1.1%

Flat Plate UCE Hand-made 1 1.1% Flat Plate UCE Wheel-made 4 4.3% Bowl 80 degrees Body Direction, rectangular form UCE Hand-made 1 1.1% Cup or Escudilla with everted lip GCE Polychrome 2 2.2% Cup or Escudilla with everted lip UCE Hand-made 1 1.1% Cup or Escudilla with straight rim GCE Blue over White 1 1.1% Cup or Escudilla with straight rim GCE Polychrome 1 1.1% Cup or Escudilla with straight rim UCE Wheel-made 1 1.1% Plato Hondo GCE Polychrome 1 1.1% Plato Hondo UCE Hand-made 2 2.2% Plato Hondo UCE Wheel-made 1 1.1% Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim GCE Colorless 2 2.2% Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim GCE Polychrome 11 12.0% Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim UCE Hand-made 1 1.1% Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim UCE Wheel-made 3 3.3% Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls UCE Hand-made 2 2.2% Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls UCE Wheel-made 2 2.2% Rounded bowls with inverted lip UCE Hand-made 3 3.3% Rounded bowls with inverted lip UCE Wheel-made 3 3.3% Rounded bowls with straight lip GCE Green 4 4.3%

Rounded bowls with straight lip GCE Polychrome 1 1.1% Rounded bowls with straight lip UCE Hand-made 20 21.7%

150

Form Subgroup Ceramic Fabric MNV %

Rounded bowls with straight lip UCE Wheel-made 10 10.9% Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip GCE Polychrome 1 1.1%

Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip UCE Hand-made 5 5.4% Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip UCE Wheel-made 6 6.5% Totals 92 100.0%

Table 2 Diameter mean, minimum, maximum and standard deviation of Identified Forms, Unrestricted Class

Form MNV Mean Min Max Std. Dev Bowl 60 degrees body direction, thick walls 1 18.00 18 18 . Flat Plate 6 28.33 20 40 7.45 Bowl 80 degrees Body Direction, rectangular form 1 26.00 26 26 . Cup or Escudilla with everted lip 3 14.00 13 15 1.00 Cup or Escudilla with straight rim 3 13.33 12 15 1.53 Plato Hondo 4 23.00 18 29 4.97 Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim 17 19.88 10 29 4.59 Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls 4 44.50 40 49 6.36 Rounded bowls with inverted lip 6 25.17 16 41 10.98 Rounded bowls with straight lip 35 21.34 11 48 7.22 Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip 12 20.33 13 31 4.98 Totals 92 21.76 10 49 7.72

151

Table 3 MNV of Identified Forms, Unrestricted Class with presence of internal, external, internal/external hearthblackening or absence of hearthblackening

Form Hearthblackening MNV Bowl 60 degrees body direction, thick walls Internal and external 1 Flat Plate Internal and external 1 Flat Plate No hearthblackening 1 Flat Plate Only external 4 Bowl 80 degrees Body Direction, rectangular form Internal and external 1 Cup or Escudilla with everted lip No hearthblackening 2 Cup or Escudilla with everted lip Only external 1 Cup or Escudilla with straight rim No hearthblackening 2 Cup or Escudilla with straight rim Only external 1 Plato Hondo Internal and external 1 Plato Hondo No hearthblackening 2 Plato Hondo Only external 1 Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim Internal and external 2 Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim No hearthblackening 13 Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim Only external 1 Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim Only internal 1 Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls Internal and external 1 Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls No hearthblackening 2 Rounded Bowls or Pot with thick walls Only external 1 Rounded bowls with inverted lip Internal and external 2 Rounded bowls with inverted lip No hearthblackening 2 Rounded bowls with inverted lip Only external 2 Rounded bowls with straight lip Internal and external 18 Rounded bowls with straight lip No hearthblackening 7 Rounded bowls with straight lip Only external 9 Rounded bowls with straight lip Only internal 1 Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip Internal and external 4 Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip No hearthblackening 6 Rounded or straight bowls with straight lip Only external 2 Totals 92

152

Table 4 MNV of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted Class by Subgroup of Ceramic Fabric Form Subgroup Ceramic Fabric MNV % Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip GCE Green 8 9.5% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip UCE Wheel-made 10 11.9% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck GCE Green 5 6.0% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck UCE Hand-made 1 1.2% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck UCE Wheel-made 6 7.1% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: medium neck GCE Green 2 2.4% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: medium neck UCE Wheel-made 2 2.4% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck GCE Green 5 6.0% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck UCE Hand-made 1 1.2% Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck UCE Wheel-made 3 3.6% Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck GCE Green 1 1.2% Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck UCE Hand-made 1 1.2% Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck UCE Wheel-made 1 1.2% Jar or Pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction UCE Wheel-made 1 1.2% Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck UCE Hand-made 7 8.3% Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck UCE Wheel-made 8 9.5% Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck GCE Polychrome 1 1.2% Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck UCE Hand-made 2 2.4% Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck UCE Wheel-made 6 7.1% Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck GCE Green 2 2.4% Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck UCE Hand-made 3 3.6% Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck UCE Wheel-made 7 8.3% Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck UCE Hand-made 1 1.2% Totals 84 100%

153

Table 5 Diameter mean, minimum, maximum and standard deviation of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted Class

Form MNV Mean Min Max Std. Dev Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip 18 20.33 15 30 3.87 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck 12 19.00 10 27 4.71 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: medium neck 4 16.00 13 19 2.94 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck 9 15.88 13 22 2.95 Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck 3 19.33 11 25 7.37 jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction 1 33.00 33 33 . Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck 15 22.33 11 38 7.97 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck 9 19.22 12 22 3.46 Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck 12 19.58 12 32 6.37 Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck 1 13.00 13 13 . Totals 84 19.65 10 38 5.74

Table 6 MNV of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted Class with presence of internal, external, internal/external hearthblackening or absence of hearthblackening Form Hearthblackening MNV Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip Internal and external 4 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip No hearthblackening 4 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip Only external 7 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip Only internal 3 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck Internal and external 3 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck No hearthblackening 2 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck Only external 6 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: large neck Only internal 1 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: medium neck No hearthblackening 1 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: medium neck Only external 3 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck Internal and external 2 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck No hearthblackening 4 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck Only external 1 Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip: short neck Only internal 2 Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck Internal and external 2 Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck No hearthblackening 1

154

Form Hearthblackening MNV Jar or Pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction No hearthblackening 1 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck Internal and external 6 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck No hearthblackening 2 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck Only external 6 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck Only internal 1 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck Internal and external 3 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck No hearthblackening 3 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck Only external 1 Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short or Large Neck Only internal 2 Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck Internal and external 4 Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck No hearthblackening 5 Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck Only external 3 Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck Internal and external 1 All All 84

Table 7 MNV of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted or Unrestricted Class by Subgroup of Ceramic Fabric Subgroup of Ceramic Form Fabric MNV % Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction UCE Hand-made 1 0.8% Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction UCE Wheel-made 14 10.7% Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction UCE Hand-made 9 6.9% Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction UCE Wheel-made 32 24.4% Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction UCE Hand-made 2 1.5% Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction UCE Wheel-made 8 6.1% Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction UCE Hand-made 7 5.3% Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction UCE Wheel-made 32 24.4% Jar or pot with90 degrees Body Direction UCE Hand-made 1 0.8% Large vessels from the group jar or pot with 60 to 89 degrees body direction UCE Hand-made 3 2.3% Large vessels from the group jar or pot with 60 to 89 degrees body direction UCE Wheel-made 22 16.8% Totals 131 100%

155

Table 8 Diameter mean, minimum, maximum and standard deviation of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted or Unrestricted Class Form MNV Mean Min Max Std Dev Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction 15 37.20 24 45 5.53 Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction 41 38.07 12 52 7.41 Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction 10 33.10 25 42 5.15 Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction 39 37.95 23 51 5.91 Jar or pot with90 degrees Body Direction 1 38.00 38 38 . Large vessels from the group jar or pot with 60 to 89 degrees body direction 25 34.44 20 49 7.31

Totals 131 36.86 12 52 6.72

Table 9 MNV of Identified Forms, Independent Restricted or Unrestricted Class with presence of internal, external, internal/external hearthblackening or absence of hearthblackening Form Hearthblackening MNV Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction Internal and external 5 Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction No hearthblackening 8 Jar or pot with 60 to 69 degrees Body Direction Only external 2 Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction Internal and external 13 Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction No hearthblackening 16 Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction Only external 9 Jar or pot with 80 to 89 degrees Body Direction Only internal 3 Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction Internal and external 5 Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction No hearthblackening 3 Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction Only external 1 Jar or pot with 90 to 99 degrees Body Direction Only internal 1 Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction Internal and external 15 Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction No hearthblackening 18 Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction Only external 5 Jar or pot with70 to 79 degrees Body Direction Only internal 1 Jar or pot with90 degrees Body Direction Internal and external 1 Large vessels from the group jar or pot with 60 to 89 degrees body direction Internal and external 8 Large vessels from the group jar or pot with 60 to 89 degrees body direction No hearthblackening 17 Totals 131

156

Table 10 MNV of Identified Bases by Subgroup of Ceramic Fabric Form Subgroup Ceramic fabric MNV % Bases with high pedestal UCE Hand-made 7 15.2% Bases with high pedestal UCE Wheel-made 4 8.7% Bases with low pedestal GCE Cream 2 4.3% Bases with low pedestal GCE Polychrome 8 17.4% Bases with low pedestal GCE White 1 2.2% Bases with low pedestal UCE Wheel-made 3 6.5% Bases with medium pedestal GCE Pinkish white 1 2.2% Bases with medium pedestal GCE Blue over white 2 4.3% Bases with medium pedestal GCE Polychrome 6 13.0% Bases with medium pedestal GCE White 1 2.2% Bases with medium pedestal GCE Yellow 1 2.2% Flat base GCE Polychrome 2 4.3% Flat Bases of large vessels UCE Wheel-made 4 8.7% Pondo UCE Hand-made 2 4.3% Small flat bases GCE Green 1 2.2% Small flat bases UCE Wheel-made 1 2.2% Totals 46 100%

157

Appendix D. Ceramic Analysis: Illustration of Vessel Forms

UNRESTRICTED VESSELS

Unrestricted Vessels with simple contours: Rounded Bowls with straight lip

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple Countours Name: Rounded Bowls

30 40 50 60 Body Angle

10 FORM 7500

FORM 7503 u1-n5-f2-257 17cm

FORM 7600

FORM 8800 20

FORM 7301

FORM 7200 FORM 7601

FORM 7800

FORM 7501

FORM 7900 40

scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm Orifice Diameter

158

Unrestricted Vessels with simple contours: Rounded Bowls with inverted lip

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple Countours Name: Rounded Bowls with inverted lip

70 80 Rim Angle

20 FORM 7202

FORM 7201 40 scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm Diameter Orifice

159

Unrestricted Vessels with simple or composite contours: Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple or Composite Countours Name: Plato Hondo or Bowl with everted rim

20 30 40 50 60 70 Rim Angle

15 upb3-n12-203 16cm

tm2-u1e-n7-283 17cm

tm2-u1e-n7-284 17cm

20 upb2-n12-182 20cm

scale 1:1

Orifice Diameter 0 5 10 15cm !

160 Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Composite Countours Name: Bowl 80 degrees Body Direction, rectangular form

FORM 8500

scale 1:1 Unrestricted Vessels with simple contours:0 Special 5 Forms 10cm

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple Countours Name: Bowl 60 degrees body direction, thick walls

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Composite Countours Name: Bowl 80 degrees Body Direction, rectangular form

FORM 8500

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple Countours Name: Bowl 60 degrees body direction, thick walls

scale 1:1 161 0 5 10cm

Unrestricted Vessels with composite contours: Plato Hondo

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Composite Countours Name: Plato Hondo 40 50 30 Rim Angle

20 FORM 8200

30 FORM 8302

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm Orifice Diameter

162

Unrestricted Vessels with simple contours: Flat Plate

Formal Class: Unrestricted Vessels With Simple Countours Name: Flat Plate

20 30 Rim Angle

20 FORM 8801

30 FORM 8802

40 FORM 8801

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm Orifice Diameter

163 Formal Class: Restricted Vessels With Inflicted Countours Name: Ovaloid or Globular Pot

100 110 120 Rim Angle

FORM 6103 Orifice Diameter Orifice

FORM 6201 20

FORM 6102

30 FORM 6202

scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm RESTRICTED VESSELS

Restricted Vessels with simple contours: Ovaloid or Globular Pots

Formal Class: Restricted Vessels With Simple Name: Ovaloid or globular pots

100 110 120 130 Rim Angle

FORM 6100

FORM 6104 FORM 6300

FORM 6400

FORM 6101

scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm

164

Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Ovaloid or Globular Pots

Formal Class: Restricted Vessels With Inflicted Countours Name: Ovaloid or Globular Pot

100 110 120 Rim Angle

FORM 6103 Orifice Diameter Orifice

FORM 6201 20

FORM 6102

30 FORM 6202

scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm

Formal Class: Restricted Vessels With Simple Name: Ovaloid or globular pots

100 110 120 130 Rim Angle

FORM 6100

FORM 6104 FORM 6300

FORM 6400

FORM 6101

scale 1:1

0 5 10 15cm

165

INDEPENDENT RESTRICTED VESSELS

Independent Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Globular Pots with flat or wavy lips Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels Inflicted Contour Name: Globular pot with Flat and Wavy Lip

Body Angle 110 120 130 140 SMALL NECK SMALL

FORM 5100

FORM 5103

FORM 5110 MEDIUM N FORM 5101 ECK LARGE LARGE

FORM 5108 NECK

FORM 5106

FORM 5102

scale 1:1

0 5 10 cm

166

Independent Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels Inflicted Contour Name: Jar or Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck

100 110 120 130 Body Angle

n4-f3-22 11cm 10

u1-n6-f10-258 16cm

upb2-n14-184 40 27cm

scale 1:1

0 5 10 cm Orifice Diameter

167

Independent Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels Inflicted Contour Name: Globular Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck 130

n4-u1e-f3-81 11cm

scale 1:1 30

0 5 10 cm

Independent Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels Inflicted Contour Name: Pot with Narrowed Lip and Short Neck 100

scale 1:1

0 5 10 cm

168

Independent Restricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels Inflicted Contour Name: Jar with Narrowed Lip and Large Neck

100 110 120 130 Body Angle

10 upb-n5-156 12cm u1-n2-03-f16 13cm

tm2-u1-n3-fvarios-236 19cm

u1-n2-f2-3-7-11-222 24cm

30 Orifice Diameter

scale 1:1

0 5 10 cm

169

INDEPENDENT RESTRICTED OR UNRESTRICTED VESSELS

Independent Restricted or Unrestricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Jar or Pot with 90-99 degrees of Body Direction.

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels or Unrestricted Inflicted Contour Name: Jar or Pot with 90-99 degrees Body Direction

80 90

scale 1:1 30

0 5 10 cm

170

Independent Restricted or Unrestricted Vessels with inflicted contours: Jar or Pot with 60-89 degrees of Body Direction.

Formal Class: Independent Restricted Vessels or Unrestricted Inflicted Contour Name: Jar or Pot with 60 to 89 degrees Body Direction Body Angle 60 70 80

50 Orifice Diameter

171

BASES

Bases with Low Height Pedestal

Bases with low pedestal 120 130 140 150 Base Angle

upb2-n9-164 4.5cm

tm2-u1se-n5-290 5 5cm

n5-u1-f1-52 5.5cm

nv-f9-u1e-111 6cm

u1-n5-f12-249 7cm

u1-n2-sf-230 7cm

u1-n2-sf-232 7cm

upb3-n14-207 7 cm

u1-n2-sf-228 8cm

n6-u1-f8-63 8cm

n5-u1-f17-24 10 9cm

u1-n2-sf-231 15cm scale 1:1

0 5 10cm Base Diameter

172

Bases with Medium Height Pedestal

Bases with medium pedestal

Base Angle 140 150 160 170 Base Diameter

no labelGlazed Te Escudilla 4.5cm

upb2-n4-150 5 5cm

tm2-u1-n4-269 7cm

upb3-n5-194 7cm

upb2-n13-187 7cm

scale 1:1

0 5 10cm 10

173

Bases with High Height Pedestal

Bases with high pedestal

Rim Angle 130 140 150

tm2-u1e-n5-f1-401

upb2-n13-185 7cm

u1-f1-n4-245 7cm

10 tm2-u1se-n7-f4-400

scale 1:1

0 5 10cm Base Diameter

174

Flat Bases of Large Vessels

Flat Bases of large vessels

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Flat Bases of Small Vessels

upb2-n9-163 3cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

175

Flat Base of Plato Hondo

Flat base Plato Hondo base

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Large Water Storage Vessel

Large Water storage base

n2-u1-f19-190-55 2.5cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Special Forms Small unrestricted vessels Vessel mouth with handles

upb2-n2-144 8cm 176

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

u1se-n7-118-Cang-tm2-f1 7cm

Special Forms

upb2-n6-167 4cm upb3-n12-202

scale 1:1

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm 0 5 10cm

n6-u1-f8-60 8cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm Large Water storage base

n2-u1-f19-190-55 2.5cm VESSELS WITH SPECIAL FORM

scale 1:1 Special Forms 0 5 10cm

Special Forms Small unrestricted vessels Vessel mouth with handles

upb2-n2-144 8cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

u1se-n7-118-Cang-tm2-f1 7cm Large Water storage base Special Forms

n2-u1-f19-190-55 2.5cm

upb2-n6-167 4cm upb3-n12-202

scale 1:1 scale 1:1 0 5 10cm 0 5 10cm scale 1:1 0 5 10cm n6-u1-f8-60 8cm Special Forms Small unrestricted vessels Vessel mouth with handles scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

upb2-n2-144 8cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm u1se-n7-118-Cang-tm2-f1 7cm

Special Forms

177 scale 1:1

upb2-n6-167 4cm upb3-n12-202 0 5 10cm scale 1:1 scale 1:1 0 5 10cm 0 5 10cm

n6-u1-f8-60 8cm

scale 1:1 0 5 10cm

Appendix E. Catalog of Ceramics, Teresa Montero Site, La Concepción (Carchi-Ecuador)

GLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE CERAMICS

178

179

180

181

182

UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE: PIPES

183

UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE FIGURINE

UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE: SPECIAL OBJECT WITH CROSSES

184

UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE WITH INCISIONS

185

186

187

188

189

190

UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE WITH PERFORATIONS

191

UNGLAZED DENTICULATED COARSE EARTHENWARE

OTHER UNGLAZED COARSE EARTHENWARE

192

193

194

195

196

197

198

199

PASTO CERMICS

200

Appendix F. Inventory of Enslaved Population in Haciendas del Colegio Máximo de Quito de la Compañía de Jesús, Chota-Mira Valley, 1767

Source: Inventario del Colegio Máximo de Quito de la Compañia de Jesús, 1767. Transcripción del Padre Francisco Piñas Rubio S.J. 2007. Fundación Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Aurelio Espinosa Pólit, Quito

HACIENDA LA CONCEPCIÓN

1. Primeramente Ignacio Bonilla capitán de veinte y seis años y María Catalina Borja su mujer de veinte y cinco, y tres hijas. Rosalía Bonilla de diez años. Silveria Isabel de siete. Y Anastasia de un año. 2. Juan Cristóbal de sesenta y su mujer Inés Pastrana de diez y ocho. 3. Gregorio Bolaños de ochenta y Juana de Jesús su mujer de setenta. 4. Melchor Olmos de Espinosa de sesenta y María Méndez su mujer de mas de cincuenta. 5. Francisco Espinosa de sesenta y Cecilia Delgado su mujer de mas de cincuenta. Sus hijos. Florencio Espinosa de diez y ocho. Enrique de diez y seis. Felipa de catorce. Y Tomás de doce. 6. Clemente Delgado de cincuenta y ocho y Gregoria Angulo su mujer de mas de cincuenta. 7. Francisco Bonilla de cincuenta y Ursula Castañeda su mujer de cuarenta y cuatro. Sus hijos: Justa Bonilla de diez y siete. Marta Bonilla de diez. (fol. 571v) Nicolás Dalmacio de siete y Pío Bonilla de dos. 8. Ambrosio Quiteño de cincuenta y ocho y María Nieves su mujer de veinte y cinco; sus hijos: María Toribia de dos años y medio y Mariano de la Merced de un mes. 9. Bonifacio Borja de cincuenta y dos años y Manuela Bolaños su mujer de cuarenta y dos; sus hijos: Paula Borja de veinte. Eduardo de diez y ocho. Ruperto de doce. Rufina de diez. María Quiteria de ocho y María Paula de año y medio. 10. Gregorio Guerrero de cincuenta y seis y Petrona Angola su mujer de cuarenta y ocho. 11. Javier Angola de cuarenta y dos y Sebastiana Padilla su mujer de cuarenta; sus hijos: María Isidora Angola de catorce. Perpetua Angola de doce. Y Fortunato Angola de dos. 12. José Antonio de cincuenta y seis y Catalina Mina su mujer de cuarenta y ocho; sus hijos: Teresa de ocho y Marcelo de la Trinidad de dos. 13. Atanasio Lucumi de cincuenta y Pascuala (fol. 572) Mina su mujer de cuarenta y seis; sus hijos: Patricio de diez y seis. Pedro Pascual de catorce. Y Tomasa Manuela de diez. 14. Manuel Santa Cruz de cuarenta y ocho y Melchora Sánchez su mujer de cuarenta y cuatro; su hija Baleriana Santa Cruz de nueve.

201

15. Nicolás Loardo de cincuenta y cinco y Francisca Delgado su mujer de cuarenta y ocho; su hija Fulgencia Loardo de diez. 16. Francisco Chala de mas de cincuenta y Polonia Manteca su mujer de mas de cuarenta; sus hijos: Domingo Chala de veinte y dos. Antonio Chala de quince. Leonor Chala de catorce. León Chala de doce. Prisca Chala de siete y Mariana Chala de mas de un año. 17. José Tadeo de cincuenta y seis y Ana Ignacia su mujer de cincuenta y tres; sus hijos: Pedro Tadeo de veinte y dos. Eusebio Tadeo de veinte. Francisco Solano de quince. Luisa Tadeo de doce. María Tadeo de siete y (fol. 572v) Mariano Tadeo de cinco. 18. Pedro Quiteño de cuarenta y cinco y Catalina Mina su mujer de cincuenta. 19. Vicente Pastrana de setenta y Antonia María su mujer de sesenta; su hijo Facundo Pastrana de diez y ocho. 20. Francisco Pastrana de cuarenta y Juana Bolaños su mujer de treinta y ocho; sus hijos: Mauricio Pastrana de diez y ocho. Fructuoso Pastrana de once. José Pastrana de ocho y Marcos Pastrana de cuatro. 21. Felipe Mina de sesenta y Ambrosia Padilla su mujer de treinta y cuatro; sus hijos: Josefa Mina de nueve. José Mina de cuatro y Juana Mina de año y medio. 22. Ignacio Congo de sesenta y María Salongo su mujer de sesenta y dos. 23. Pablo Congo de cincuenta y dos y María Espinosa su mujer de treinta y seis; sus hijos: Dionisio Congo de diez y seis. Petronila Congo de nueve. Damacia Congo de cinco. Mariano Congo de dos y Josefa Congo de ocho meses. 24. (fol. 573) Felipe Congo de cincuenta y seis y Martina Chalala de cuarenta, coja; sus hijos: Andrea Congo de catorce. José de ocho. Tomás Congo de cuatro y Delfina Congo de dos. 25. Pedro Congo de cuarenta y cinco y Rosa Méndez, mulata su mujer de sesenta y cinco. 26. Casimiro Moreta de cuarenta y Toribia Méndez enferma su mujer de treinta y ocho; su hijo Ponciano Moreta de ocho años. 27. Joaquín Javier de cuarenta y Benita Jamayca su mujer de treinta y seis y un hijo que nació hoy día y aunque no está bautizado. 28. Jerónimo Delgado de treinta y ocho y Micalea Lara su mujer de veinte y cinco; sus hijos: Estanislao Delgado de seis años y Clemente Delgado de ocho días. 29. Joaquín Delgado de treinta y cinco y Juana Angola su mujer de veinte y ocho; su hijo Bartolomé Delgado de diez años. 30. Luis Angola de cuarenta y seis y Josefa Maldonado su mujer de treinta (fol. 573v) (que está loca) sus hijos: Polinario Angola de diez y sies. Justina Flora Angola de trece. Oligaria Angola de siete. Diega Angola de nueve. Venancia Angola de cinco y Pascual Angola de dos. 31. Alejo Lucumi de cuarenta y cinco y Rosa Chalala su mujer de cuarenta; sus hijos: Mariano Lucumi de diez y seis. María Josefa Lucumi de diez. Hipólita Lucumi de seis. Y Paula Lucumi de dos meses. 32. Eusebio Quiteño de veinte y Hirena Loarda mulata su mujer de diez y nueve. 33. Ignacio Cristóbal de diez y ocho y María Chala su mujer de diez y siete. 34. Angel Delgado de cuarenta y dos y Lorenza Carrillo su mujer de cuarenta; sus hijos: Constancio Delgado de doce. Hilaria Delgado mulata de diez. Claudio Delgado de ocho. Susana Delgado de seis y Liberato Delgado de tres. 35. Leandro Maldonado de treinta y ocho y Nicolasa Lara su mujer de veinte y seis; sus hijos: Cecilio Delgado de diez y Joachina de ocho.

202

36. Juan (fol. 574) Esteban de cuarenta y siete y Luisa Mina su mujer de cuarenta y seis; sus hijos: Basilio Esteban de nueve y Carlos Esteban de cinco. 37. Joaquín Romero de cuarenta y ocho y Tomasa Jamayca su mujer de cuarenta y tres; sus hijos: Marcelina Romero de ocho y María Romero de un año. 38. Angel Espinosa de cuarenta y Anastasia Manteca su mujer de treinta y seis; sus hijos: Secundino Espinosa de tres años y Catarino Espinosa de seis meses. 39. Diego Lara de treinta y cinco y Petrona Congo su mujer de treinta y ocho; sus hijos: María Isabel Lara de cinco años y Zacarías Lara de un año. 40. Bautista Mendez de treinta y seis y Baltasara Delgado su mujer de veinte y ocho; sus hijos: José Romualdo Mendez de ocho. Crisanto Mendez de cinco. Francisca Mendez de año y medio. Y Martina Mendez de ocho días. 41. Eugenio Mendez de treinta y Nicolasa Espinosa su mujer de (fol. 574v) veinte y nueve; sus hijos: Eduardo Mendez de ocho años y Josefa Mendez de un año. 42. Salvador Quiteño de treinta y Eusebia Maldonado su mujer, baldada, de veinte y cinco; sus hijos: Ignacia Quiteño de diez años. Josefa Quiteño de cuatro. Inocencio Quiteño de dos y Joaquín Quiteño de nueve meses. 43. Nicolás Lucumi de veinte y ocho y Jerónima Guerrero su mujer de veinte y cinco; sus hijos: Liborio Lucumi de siete años. y Romualdo Lucumi de un año. 44. Jacinto Quijano de cuarenta y cinco y Micaela Bolaños su mujer de cuarenta; sus hijos: Petrona Nerea de trece. Eulogia Quijano de nueve. Tomasa Quijano de cinco y María Andrea Quijano de dos. 45. Adriano Izquierdo de cincuenta y Narcisa Lucumi su mujer de treinta; sus hijos: Juan Climaco Izquierdo de tres años y José Mariano Izquierdo de dos meses. 46. (fol. 575) Cipriano Madonado de veinte y seis y Francisca Manteca su mujer de veinte y tres; sus hijos: Baltasar Maldonado de dos años y Lorenzo Maldonado de tres meses. 47. Manuel Arauz de treinta y ocho y Antonia Quiteño su mujer de veinte y seis; sus hijos: Calisto Arauz de cuatro años. Juan de Dios Arauz de dos años y Victorino Arauz de cinco meses. 48. Matías Cristóbal de cuarenta años y Petronila Carrillo su mujer de treinta. 49. Felipe Tadeo de veinte y cinco y Josefa Quiteño su mujer de veinte; sus hijos: Marcos Tadeo de siete años. Josefa Claudia de dos años y Elena Tadeo de un mes. 50. Ítem Santiago mulato de treinta años y María Lucumi su mujer de veinte y seis años. 51. Manuel Delgado de veinte y Teodora Chala su mujer de diez y ocho; sus hijas: Martina Delgado de cuatro años y Estefanía Delgado de año y medio. 52. José (fol. 575v) de Espinosa de veinte y tres y Eugenia Mina su mujer de veinte. 53. Jacinto Loardo de veinte y ocho y Brígida Quiteño su mujer de veinte y cuatro; y su hijo Clemente Loardo de dos años. 54. Felicio Santa Cruz de veinte y uno y Rosa Delgado su mujer de diez y nueve; sus hijos: María Santa Cruz de dos años y Pascual Santa Cruz de dos meses. 55. Juan Maldonado de edad de veinte y cinco años y Cayetana Mendez su mujer de veinte; su hijo: Pedro Maldonado de dos meses. 56. Joaquín Espinosa de veinte y dos años y Estefanía Santa Cruz su mujer de veinte. 57. Jerónimo Bonilla de veinte y dos y Sabina Delgado su mujer de veinte; su hija Cornelia Delgado de dos años.

203

58. Teodoro Manteca de veinte y cinco y Liberata Angola su mujer de veinte y tres; su hija María Ignacia Manteca de cinco meses. 59. Laureano Congo de veinte y cuatro y Bernardina Congo su mujer de (fol. 576) veinte años. 60. Victorio Ogonaga de veinte y Ambrosia Carrillo de diez y nueve; su hijo José Ascensio Ogonaga de cuatro meses. 61. Crespin Angola de diez y nueve años y Justa Loardo su mujer de diez y ocho. 62. Hermenegildo Delgado de diez y ocho y Bibiana Tadeo su mujer de diez y siete; su hija Ignacia Joachina de seis meses. 63. Feliciano Mendez de diez y siete y Gertrudis Congo su mujer de quince. 64. Rafael Manteca viudo de treinta y cuatro años; sus hijos: Froylan Manteca de siete años y Jacinto Manteca de tres. 65. José Portovelo de treinta años viudo. 66. Juan de Jesús mulato de sesenta y cinco; su hija Josefa de Jesús de cuarenta ciega. 67. Marcelo Guerrero de mas de noventa años. 68. Juan Castañeda de mas de setenta. 69. Melchor Callamba de mas de ochenta. 70. Juan Álvarez mulato viudo de treinta; su hijo: Agustín Álvarez de tres. 71. Teresa Mina viuda (fol. 576v) de treinta. 72. Josefa Angola de setenta y tres, viuda. 73. Lorenza Sánchez viuda de setenta años. 74. Petrona Lara viuda de treinta y cinco años; su hija Seferina de dos años. 75. Tomasa Núñez viuda de setenta y tres. 76. Lorenza Castañeda viuda de sesenta; sus hijos: Margarita de diez y seis. Gaspar Toledo de siete. 77. Rosa Guerrero viuda de cincuenta; sus hijos: Martina de la Purificación de doce años. Francisco Javier de catorce y Pablo José de siete. 78. Magdalena Pastrana viuda de treinta; sus hijos: Sivestre Sánchez de cuatro años. Antonio Sánchez de dos años. 79. Ítem Clara Angola viuda de cuarenta y cuatro; sus hijos: Pedro Delgado de doce. Andrés Delgado de diez. Leonor Agata de ocho. Ignacio Delgado de seis meses. 80. Ignacio Padilla de cincuenta su mujer Gabriela de Espinosa de veinte y siete; sus hijos: Casilda Espinosa de catorce. (fol. 577) Merenciana Espinosa de diez. Bárbara de ocho. Susana de seis. Gabriel de cuatro. Luisa Espinosa de dos. Modesta Espinosa de un año. 81. Luis Bernardo de veinte y dos su mujer Tomasa Congo de diez y nueve; su hija Juana Congo de un año. 82. Cristina Loyola de sesenta años, viuda; sus hijos: Romualda Manteca de diez y ocho y Cosme Manteca de diez años. 83. Ítem Juan Nepomuceno muchacho de ocho años, sus padres Simón de Olmos que está en el Chamanal. 84. Antonio Maldonado soltero de veinte años.

204

Los cuales dichos esclavos componen el número de los trescientos y dos; y resultan quince piezas de aumento del número de doscientas ochenta y siete que constan en el inventario antecedente.

HACIENDA DE SANTIAGO

1. Primeramente Antonio Congo de treinta años y Margarita Mina de veinte y tres años, su hija Felipa de dos años. 2. Miguel Santander de cincuenta años y María Congo su mujer de treinta, sus hijas Mariana Santander, de ocho; y Incolaza Santander de un año. 3. Antonio Sánchez de cincuenta; sus hijos Isidro Sánchez de diez y ocho y Joaquín Sánchez de diez y seis. 4. Antonio Mondongo de mas de cincuenta y Margarita Arauz su mujer de treinta; (fol. 433) su hijo Francisco Mariano de dos años. 5. Francisco Sundi de sesenta y Margarita Chala su mujer de veinte y seis; sus hijos Manuel Sundi de ocho años, Victorio de dos y Isabel de un año. 6. Alfonso Congo de cincuenta, Ignacia Popó su mujer de treinta y seis; sus hijos, Marcelo Congo de diez y nueve, Salvador Congo de diez y siete, Baltasar Congo de catorce, Bartolomé Congo de nueve, Manuel Congo de siete, Pablo Congo de cinco y Pedro Congo de dos. 7. Manuel Congo de cuarenta y cinco y Margarita Valencia su mujer de mas de cincuenta. 8. Francisco Congo de cincuenta y seis y Juana Mina su mujer de cuarenta. Polonia Congo de seis. Silvestre Congo de tres y Julián Congo de tres, mellizos. 9. Antonio Congo de cincuenta y Javiera Chala su mujer de cuarenta. 10. Ambrosio Carabalí de cuarenta y seis y María Salvadora su mujer de treinta y dos sus hijos Ana Carabalí de catorce, Simón Carabalí de doce, Gregoria Carabalí de cinco años y Carlos Carabalí de dos años. 11. (fol. 433v) Lazaro Faute viudo de cuarenta años, su hijo Tomás Faute de tres. 12. Pablo Faute de treinta y ocho viudo; su hijo Mariano Faute de seis años. 13. Andrés Sánchez de treinta años y Asencia Briones de veinte y dos. 14. Adriano Sánchez de veinte y ocho y María Vidal su mujer de veinte y cinco. 15. Ignacio Pastrana de treinta y Jacinta Faute su mujer de veinte y seis; sus hijos Nicolás Pastrana de nueve, María Rosa Pastrana de siete, Diego Pastrana de dos y María Luisa Pastrana de un año. 16. Mariano Pastrana de veinte y ocho y Narcisa Faute su mujer de veinte y cuatro; sus hijos Ignacia Pastrana de cinco años, Eulalia Pastrana de tres y Candelaria Pastrana de dos. 17. José Congo de veinte y ocho y su mujer María Dominga de veinte y seis. 18. Francisco Mina de treinta y su mujer Teresa de Jesús de veinte y cinco. 19. Juan Congo de veinte y tres, Engracia Mina su mujer de veinte. 20. Narciso Briones de veinte y cuatro, Ignacia Naba su mujer de veinte y dos y (fol. 434) su hija María Eduardo Briones de un año. 21. Ventura Salabarria de sesenta y Dionisia Mija su mujer de cincuenta; sus hijos, Margarita de veinte y tres, Francisco Leandro de diez, Rita de ocho, Juan Luis de cinco, María Ana de Jesús de cuatro y Juan Gregorio de dos. 22. José Rojas de veinte y dos, Ignacia Chala su mujer de cuarenta y seis.

205

23. María Rosa Poso viuda de ochenta años, sus hijos Hermenegildo de veinte y cinco y Melchor de diez y nueve. 24. Felipa Mina de cuarenta. 25. Paula Pastrana de sesenta y cuatro viuda, su hijo Joaquín Sánchez de diez y seis. 26. Cipriano Congo de sesenta, sus hijos Esteban de quince y Miguel de trece. 27. Juan Quijano de cuarenta. 28. Ana María de sesenta, sus hijos Francisco Gaspar de trece y Micaela de once, María de nueve. 29. Teresa García de sesenta, su hija María de las Nieves de cuarenta. 30. (fol. 434v) Francisco Congo soltero de quince. 31. Atanasio Carabalí soltero de diez. 32. Mariana Congo huérfana de once. 33. Ambrosio de Jesús de noventa y Sebastiana Carabalí su mujer de setenta. 34. Ítem dio por ausentes el hermano hacendero a Miguel Sánchez marido de Paula Pastrana y a Pascual Arauz hijo de Teresa García con expresión que estos dos esclavos se ausentaron antes que su reverencia entrase a la administración de esta hacienda.

CARPUELA

1. (fol. 450) Esclavos. 2. Ítem se numeraron ciento y diez piezas de esclavos de todas edades, los sesenta y dos varones y cuarenta y ocho hembras en la forma y manera siguiente. 3. Primeramente Cristóbal de la Trinidad de treinta y ocho años y Margarita de la Trinidad su mujer de cuarenta. 4. Antonio Congo de cincuenta y cinco años y Graciana Congo su mujer de cincuenta; y sus hijos, Pedro de diez y siete y Pablo de doce años y seis meses. 5. Isidro de Jesús de sesenta años y Blasa del Castillo su mujer de cuarenta y ocho; tres hijos, Santos de Jesús de siete años y dos meses. Francisca de Jesús de cinco años y cinco meses. Doroteo de Jesús de año y seis meses. 6. Telmo Lucumi de cuarenta años y Baltasara Mina su mujer de treinta y tres años; sus hijos: Bernabé de diez y siete. Esteban de trece años y seis meses. Damacio de doce años. Manuela de ocho. Santiago de siete y cinco meses y (fol. 450v) Mariano Lucumi de cuatro años. 7. José Tobar de cuarenta y cuatro y Francisca Estrada su mujer de treinta y cinco; sus hijos: Bernabé Tobar de quince años y seis meses. Francisco de catorce. Luis de doce. Y Josefa Tobar de año y seis meses. 8. Francisco Manrique de cincuenta años y Paulina Mina su mujer de treinta y ocho. 9. Pedro Carabalí de cuarenta y cinco y María Antonia su mujer de treinta y siete; sus hijos: Ascensia de trece años. Teresa de diez años y cinco meses y María Incolaza Carabalí de tres año y un mes. 10. Ignacio Agó de treinta y cuatro y Rosa de la Trinidad su mujer de treinta y dos; su hija Josefa Agó de catorce.

206

11. Juan Nava de cuarenta y Ascensia Congo su mujer de veinte y nueve; sus hijos: María Gabriela de once años y Valentín Nava de cuatro años y seis meses. 12. Ambrosio Santos de cuarenta y ocho, Juana Fernández su mujer de treinta y nueve. (fol. 451) Sus hijos: Casimira Santos de catorce. Isabel Santos de siete. Carlos Santos de cinco. Y Liberata Engracia de dos años y medio. 13. Fermín Chacón de cuarenta y siete y Cipriano Congo su mujer de treinta años; sus hijos: María Chacón de trece. Pedro Chacón de ocho y Lorenza Chacón de cinco años y un mes. 14. Toribio Ayan de treinta y ocho y Pascuaza de Jesús su mujer de treinta y nueve. Su hija Ignacia Rufina de año y seis meses. 15. Francisco Cotabo de cuarenta y siete y Magdalena Santiago su mujer de treinta y cuatro; sus hijos: Gregorio de doce. María Ventura de cuatro y María Salvadora de dos años y siete meses. 16. Basilio Congo de veinte y ocho años viudo; sus hijas: María Bernarda de cinco años y tres meses y Juliana Congo de dos meses. 17. Francisco Ythu de treinta y cinco y María Martina su mujer de veinte años. 18. Juan Antonio Isaac de cuarenta y tres (fol. 451v) años y Juana Hermosa su mujer de cuarenta; sus hijos: Miguel de diez y ocho. Fermín de trece. Matías de doce. Y Teresa Isaac de cinco años y dos meses. 19. Antonio Criban de cuarenta y un años y Susana de la Trinidad su mujer de treinta y dos años; sus hijos: Juan Criban de doce años. Domingo Criban de diez años y tres meses. Alonso Criban de cuatro años y Juana María Criban de tres años y un mes. 20. Ignacio Congo de treinta y cinco y Antonia Congo su mujer de cincuenta; sus hijos: Tomas de catorce años y Juan Congo de trece años y tres meses. 21. Honorato Congo de treinta y ocho y María Blasa su mujer de treinta; sus hijos: Ignacio Honorato de cinco años y un mes y Mariana Congo de dos años y dos meses. 22. Manuel Lucumi de veinte y cinco años y María Rosa su mujer de veinte años; su hijo Mariano Lucumi de cuatro años y tres meses. 23. Isidro Carabalí de treinta años y Ambrosia (fol. 452) Lucumi su mujer de diez y nueve años. 24. Ignacio de Jesús de treinta y nueve y Felipa de Jesús su mujer de treinta. 25. Basilio Chiquito de diez y nueve y Melchora Congo su mujer de quince años. 26. Narciso Congo de veinte y cinco años y María Florentina su mujer de catorce. 27. Gregorio Congo de veinte y tres años y Polonia Tobar su mujer diez y seis años; su hija Leonarda Congo de año y un mes. 28. Salvador Congo de veinte y tres años y María Soto su mujer de quince. 29. Juan Congo de diez y ocho años y Micaela Iza su mujer de catorce años. 30. Adriano Jinete de cincuenta viudo y sus hijos: Luciano de diez y seis años. y pedro Jinete Bolaños de veinte. 31. Estacio Congo de sesenta años viudo; sus hijos: Joaquín de treinta y cinco. Carlos de quince y Pedro de catorce.

CHALUAYACO ANEJA A CARPUELA

207

1. Ítem cincuenta y cinco piezas de dichos esclavos de todas edades, los treinta y cinco varones y las veinte hembras, fuera de Gracián Congo negro que se halla ausente en la provincia de los Pastos, en poder del Teniente Gobernador quien según expresa el hermano hacendero le ha pedido para su entrega cincuenta pesos por decir haberlo sacado de Barbacoas; y dichas piezas son las siguientes. 2. Antonio Carabalí soltero de cincuenta años. 3. Sebastián Congo de cuarenta y cinco y María Mercedaria su mujer de cuarenta años; sus hijos: Rafael Congo (fol. 459v) de diez y seis. Juan Congo de catorce. Raimundo Congo de doce años y cuatro meses. Juana Valencia de nueve años y Patricia Teresa de cuatro años y tres meses. 4. Domingo Congo de cuarenta y ocho y Lucía Congo su mujer de treinta y nueve; sus hijos: Mariano Congo de quince años. Rafael Simón Congo de doce años. Y Juan Congo de diez años. 5. Estanislao Congo de cincuenta y Magdalena Congo su mujer de cuarenta y uno; sus hijos: Feliz Congo de catorce años. Mariano Congo de doce y Bernardo Congo de nueve años. 6. Ambrosio Abocon de treinta y Tomasa Congo su mujer de veinte y seis. Su hijo Miguel Abocon de año y seis meses. 7. Alejandro de Jesús de treinta y ocho y Cecilia García su mujer de treinta años; sus hijos: Juan Alberto de once. Juan de Dios de tres. y Indalecio de la Cruz de ocho meses. 8. Pedro Casimiro de cincuenta y María Rita su mujer de cuarenta. 9. (fol. 460) Miguel García de cuarenta y cinco y Ana María Ctango su mujer de treinta y siete. 10. Miguel Congo de treinta y cinco y María Rubio su mujer de treinta y tres; sus hijos: Narciso Congo de catorce. Ignacio Congo de once. Mariano congo de nueve. Y Indalecio Congo de un año y tres meses. 11. Francisco Congo de cincuenta y ocho y Micaela Carabalí su mujer de cuarenta. 12. Pedro del Castillo de cuarenta y cinco y Lucía Zambaquisa su mujer de mas de cuarenta. 13. José García de veinte y seis y Manuela Carabalí su mujer de diez y nueve. 14. Pablo de Jesús de diez y nueve y María de la Trinidad su mujer de diez y ocho. 15. Marcos García de sesenta y Lorenza de Jesús su mujer de mas de cincuenta y ocho. 16. Juan del Castillo de diez y nueve años y Felipa de la Cruz su mujer de diez y seis. 17. (fol. 460v) Anselmo de Jesús soltero de cincuenta años. 18. Pablo Agan soltero de mas de cuarenta y ocho. 19. Pedro Zambaquisa viejo de setenta años. 20. Francisco Grande soltero de cincuenta y cinco 21. Y Manuela Mina de mas de sesenta. 22. Las cuales dichas piezas componen el número de los dichos cincuenta y cinco esclavos como van expresados.

208

LA CALDERA

1. Ítem noventa y seis piezas de esclavos de los nombres, sexos y edades siguientes. 2. Antonio de Jesús, Capitán, de cuarenta y cinco años, Incolasa Martínez su mujer de veinte años. Lorenzo de Jesús de doce. Paula de Jesús de diez. 3. Baltasar Moncarra de cuarenta. Teresa Congo su mujer de veinte y cinco. Ignacio Moncarra de once. Miguel Moncarra de nueve. Antonia Moncarra de doce. 4. Miguel (fol. 477v) Anno de cuarenta y cinco. María Manuela Criban su mujer de treinta. Apolinario Anno de diez. María Anno de ocho. Marta Anno de seis. Petrona Anno de diez meses. 5. Juan Bautista Chala de cuarenta y ocho. María Chalá su mujer de cuarenta y cinco. Manuel Chala de diez y ocho. Mariano Chalá de doce. Micaela Chala de diez. María Chalá de tres. 6. Rafael Criban de treinta y ocho. Y Francisca de Dios su mujer de treinta y cuatro. Ambrosio Criban de quince. Rosa Criban de nueve. María Josefa Criban de siete. Y Narciso Criban de dos. 7. Diego Cribán de cuarenta y seis. Isabel Criban su mujer de treinta y cinco. Juan Cribán de diez años. Lorenza Criban de seis y Jacinto Mariano Cribán de ocho meses. 8. Martín Escribano de cuarenta y seis y Leonarda Zambaquisa su mujer de cuarenta y cuatro. Esteban Escribano de diez y siete. Rafaela Escribano de doce. Bernabé Escribano de diez. Manuel Escribano de ocho. Manuel Escribano de siete. Clara Lorenza (fol. 478) Escribano de un año. 9. Miguel Cribán de cuarenta y ocho, viudo. Simón Criban su hijo de doce y María Cribán de siete. 10. Miguel Carabalí de treinta y ocho y María Incolaza Congo su mujer de veinte y cinco. Romualdo Carabalí de cinco. Y Manuela Carabalí de tres. 11. Antonio Loango de cincuenta y Martina Zambaquisa su mujer de cuarenta y seis. Pedro Loango de veinte y dos. Margarita Loango de doce. Tomás Loango de seis y María Francisca de tres. 12. Tomás Carabalí de cuarenta y tres, y Mariana Carabalí de cuarenta. Cristóbal Carabalí de siete. Y Gabriel Carabalí de dos. 13. Matías Arboleda de cuarenta y Beatriz Carabalí su mujer de cuarenta y seis. 14. Manuel Criban de cuarenta y ocho y Manuela Mina su mujer de veinte y dos. María Dolores su hija de un año. 15. Ignacio Binda de treinta y Juliana Congo su mujer de veinte. 16. Manuel Caboverde viudo de mas de ochenta. 17. Simón Congo soltero de cuarenta y cuatro. 18. Juan (fol. 478v) de Jesús de mas de sesenta. 19. Gabriel Lucuman de cuarenta y Liberata Congo su mujer de diez y ocho años. María de la Asunción de siete meses. 20. Tomás de Jesús de treinta y seis y Polonia Briones su mujer de treinta y dos. María del Rosario su hija de doce. 21. Manuel Córdoba de mas de cuarenta y María Ignacia Congo su mujer de diez y seis. 22. Santiago Ilesias soltero de mas de treinta. 23. Santiago Manca soltero de mas de treinta y cinco.

209

24. Nicolás Gómez soltero de mas de treinta. 25. Manuel Liro de mas de veinte soltero. 26. Miguel Ángel soltero de mas de veinte y ocho. 27. Agustín Torre soltero de diez y ocho. 28. Antonio Bueno soltero de treinta. 29. Luis Gonzaga soltero de mas de treinta. 30. Domingo Polo soltero de diez y nueve. 31. Pascual Bonilla soltero de mas de veinte. 32. Ignacio Bonilla de diez y nueve y Ventura Loango su mujer de diez y seis. 33. Benito Mina soltero de veinte. 34. Damacio Mina soltero de diez y ocho. 35. Ursula Navarro soltera de treinta. Tomás Mateo (fol. 479) su hijo de tres años. 36. Antonia Mina viuda de mas de cincuenta. 37. Marta Mina viuda de mas de setenta. 38. Elena Mina soltera de diez y ocho. 39. Josefa Chiriboga mulata soltera de quince años. 40. Los cuales componen el número de las noventa y seis piezas dichas que excede con veinte y una al número de setenta y cinco que constan en el inventario antecedente

CHAMANAL

1. Antonio Mina de cincuenta y cinco años y María Sundi su mujer de cincuenta y tres. 2. Ventura Arara de cincuenta y ocho y Francisca Gómez su mujer de cuarenta. Sus hijos: Teodora de diez y seis. Juana de catorce. Y Mariano de diez. 3. Fernando Merisalde de sesenta años y María Rita su mujer de cuartenta y cinco. Su hija (fol. 601v) Bernardina de quince. 4. José Merisalde de sesenta y cinco y Juana Carabalí su mujer de cuarenta y cinco. Su hijo Pedro Celestino de quince. 5. Francisco Nava de cincuenta y dos y María Hilaria Ubillus de cincuenta. Su hija Josefa Teodora de diez y seis. 6. Jose de Larrea de sesenta años y María Dominga su mujer de cincuenta. Su hijo Juan Gregorio de diez y nueve. 7. Francisco Indumge de cincuenta y Tomasa Carabalí su mujer de treinta y ocho. Sus hijos: Pedro Alcantara de siete años y Alfonsa Raimunda de tres años. 8. Diego Bermúdez de sesenta y Juana Zelada su mujer de cincuenta y cinco. Sus hijos: Manuela de quince años. Evaristo de once. Y bruno de nueve. 9. Francisco Congo de cincuenta y tres y Ana Sundi su mujer de cuarenta y nueve. Sus hijas: andrea de ocho años. y Jacoba de siete. 10. Manuel Mondongo de cuarenta y cinco y Francisca Borja su mujer de cuarenta. Sus hijos: Rafael de diez y ocho. Justina Anastasia de quince. Petrona Nolasca de (fol. 602) doce. María Jacoba de diez. María Ambrosia de cinco. Ramón de tres. y Felicisimo de dos. 11. Bartolomé Ontañón de cuarenta y Lorenza Mondongo su mujer de treinta y ocho.

210

12. Antonio Castro de treinta y ocho y María Rosa su mujer de veinte y cuatro. Sus hijos: María Juliana de siete. Petrona Valeria de cinco. Margarita Ancelma de dos. Y Francisco de uno. 13. Salvador Ontañón de treinta y cinco y Sebastiana Hilaria su mujer de veinte y ocho. Sus hijos: Hilario de diez. Pedro Nolasco de siete y María Manuela de cinco. 14. Luis Sundi de cuarenta y Leocadia de la Natividad su mujer de treinta. Sus hijos: Cecilia Juliana de once. Marcela de cuatro. María de tres. y María Justa de año y medio. 15. Miguel Sundi de treinta y Manuela Quiteño su mujer de veinte y tres. sus hijos; María Apolinaria de ocho. Pio de cuatro. Y Marta Tecla de un año. 16. Fernando de treinta y cinco y María Blasa Merisalde su mujer de treinta y tres. 17. Vicente Ferrer de (fol. 602v) veinte y cinco y Ascensia Merisalde su mujer de veinte. Su hijo Mariano de dos años. 18. Ignacio Valentin de veinte y seis y Juana Baptista su mujer de diez y ocho. 19. José Carabalí de treinta y cinco y Josefa Salas su mujer de veinte y siete. Sus hijos: María Felipa de ocho. Y Santiago Mesón de cinco. 20. Miguel Caceres de veinte y ocho y María Michaela su mujer de veinte. Sus hijos: Mauricia de tres años y Mariano Bernardo de año y medio. 21. Simón Olmos de treinta y siete y Polonia Escolastica su mujer de veinte y seis. Sus hijos: Fermín de seis. Faustino de tres y Lorenza de un año. 22. Juan Miguel de veinte y tres y María Liberata su mujer de veinte. Su hija Mariana Liboria de un año. 23. Martín Joaquín de veinte y cinco y Francisca Paula su mujer de veinte y dos. Su hija serafina de tres años. 24. Matías Feliz de veinte y cuatro y María de la Encarnación su mujer de veinte y uno. 25. Mariano Ignacio de veinte y cuatro y Ursula Bermúdez su mujer de veinte y dos. (fol. 603) Su hijo Ignacio de cuatro años. 26. José Bonifacio de veinte y dos y Vicenta de Larrea su mujer de veinte. Sus hijos: Justo de dos años y Tomasa de tres meses. 27. Juan Anselmo Bermúdez de veinte y seis y María de la Concepción de veinte. Sus hijos: Casimiro de cuatro. Marcos de dos y Teodoro de diez meses. 28. Manuel del Espíritu Santo de veinte y uno y Petrona Toribia Bermúdez su mujer de diez y ocho. Su hija Teresa de año y medio. 29. Juan Manuel de veinte y dos y Josefa Mina su mujer de veinte. Su hija Cecilia de veinte y un dias. 30. Juan Matías Lomas de diez y ocho y Ana Mina su mujer de diez y siete. 31. Lorenzo Hermenegildo viudo de veinte y siete años. 32. Matías Doroteo de veinte y cinco y Anastasia de Larrea de diez y siete. 33. Lorenzo Justiniano de diez y ocho y María Nieves su mujer de diez y nueve. 34. Luis Sánchez de diez y nueve y Tadea Congo su mujer de diez y ocho. 35. María Antonia Carabalí viuda de cuarenta y ocho y Manuel (fol. 603v) Apolinario su hijo de diez y siete. 36. Tomás Aquino soltero de quince años. 37. Andrea Javiera soltera de catorce años. 38. Lucía Solano viuda tullida de cincuenta y cinco. 39. Juan Mina de sesenta y dos.

211

TUMBAVIRO

1. Primeramente Miguel Mina de cincuenta años y su mujer María Hacha de treinta y tres. sus hijos: (fol. 623v) Felipa de diez y seis. Jujana Nepomuceno de cuatro años y medio. Y Tecla de un año. 2. Ítem Juan Regis de cuarenta y su mujer Isabel Chimba de cuarenta. Sus hijos; Jacinto de diez y siete. Bernarda de quince. Felipe de ocho. Y Crecencia de trece. 3. Ítem Antonio Aca de cincuenta y su mujer María Masaca de otros cincuenta. 4. Ítem Miguel Congo de cincuenta y su mujer Teresa Gunda de cuarenta y cinco. 5. Ítem Domingo Yari de cincuenta y su mujer Lucía Tumba de cuarenta y ocho. 6. Ítem Javier Mina de cuarenta y ocho y su mujer María de la Concepción de treinta y cinco. 7. Ítem Bernardo Padilla viudo de cincuenta años. sus hijos; Francisco de quince y Ambrosio de doce. 8. Ítem José Cotofa de cincuenta y su mujer María Rosa de cuarenta y ocho. 9. Ítem Pedro Navarro de cuarenta y ocho, su mujer María Olaya de treinta. Sus hijos: Manuela de ocho. Joaquina de (fol. 624) seis. Joaquín de cuatro años y medio. Pancracio de ocho meses. 10. Ítem Guillermo Arauz de cuarenta y cinco y su mujer Juana Ignacia de cuarenta y cinco. Sus hijos: Dorotea de diez. Y Simphorosa de seis. 11. Ítem Tomas Fiñon de cuarenta y cinco, su mujer Josefa de Jesús de cuarenta. Su hija Rosa de doce años. 12. Ítem Salvador Polo de treinta años y su mujer María Dominga de cuarenta y cinco. Y sus hijos; María Catalina de diez y seis mulata. Jerónima de doce. Jerónimo de nueve. Y Vicenta de cinco. 13. Ítem Carlos Fiñon de treinta y cinco, su mujer Ana Grijalva de treinta y tres. sus hijos; María de doce. Petrona de nueve. Antonio de seis. Estanislao de tres. y Victoria de nueve meses. 14. Ítem Francisco Arboleda de treinta y cinco y su mujer Tomasa Yari de treinta. Y sus hijos; Margarita de nueve y Rufina de cuatro meses. 15. Ítem Simón Gómez de cuarenta y su mujer María de Jesús de diez y ocho. 16. (fol. 624v) Ítem Antonio Cuellar de treinta y su mujer María Lorenza de veinte y cinco y su hijo Machario de año y medio. 17. Ítem Domingo Brichi de treinta y su mujer Martina Arauz de veinte y cinco y su hijo Uvenseslao de dos años. 18. Ítem Felipe Benito de treinta y su mujer Margarita Mina de veinte y ocho. 19. Ítem Pablo Benito de veinte y ocho y su mujer Juana Congo de veinte y seis. 20. Ítem Ignacio Yari de veinte y seis y su mujer Gregoria Aca de veinte y cuatro. Y su hija Isidora de dos años. 21. Ítem Mariano Arboleda de veinte y ocho y María del Carmen su mujer de veinte y cinco. 22. Ítem Lorenzo Rojas de treinta y María Javiera su mujer de diez y ocho. 23. Ítem Francisco Benito de veinte y seis y María Osorio su mujer de veinte y seis. Sus hijos: Ignacia de siete años. Juan Nepomuceno de tres y David de nueve meses.

212

24. Ítem Miguel Gallardo de veinte y cinco y María Gunda su mujer de veinte y (fol. 625) seis. Su hija Petrona Gallardo de tres semanas. 25. Ítem Pablo Humba de veinte y cinco y Manuela Javiera su mujer de veinte y dos. Sus hijas mellizas, la una Justa y la otra Pastora de tres semanas. 26. Ítem Baltasar Benito de veinte y cinco y Manuela Aca su mujer de treinta. 27. Ítem Ventura Benito de veinte y dos y su mujer Ignacia Regis de veinte. 28. Ítem Manuel Padilla de veinte y dos y María Sotomayor de veinte y su hijo José de dos años. 29. Ítem Juan Pablo de veinte y su mujer Francisca Yari de veinte y cuatro. Sus hijos; Agustín de siete y Francisca de dos años. 30. Ítem Pedro Aca de veinte y Teresa Congo su mujer de veinte y dos. 31. Ítem Marcelo Javier de diez y ocho y su mujer Beatriz Arauz de diez y ocho. 32. Ítem Francisco Borja de diez y ocho y Basilia Mina su mujer de veinte y cinco. Sus hijos; Esteban mulato de (fol. 625v) tres años y Nicolasa de siete meses. 33. Ítem María Ascensia de cuarenta y ocho y su hijo Cornelio Mina de doce años. 34. Ítem Antonio Arboleda soltero de cuarenta años. 35. Ítem Benito Olais soltero de treinta y cinco. 36. Ítem Juan Congo soltero de diez y seis. 37. Ítem Pedro Alcantara soltero de diez y ocho. 38. Ítem Petrona Jamayca viuda de cincuenta. 39. Ítem María Dominga soltera de diez y ocho.

213