S M I T H S O N I A N C O N T R I B U T I O N S T O A N T H R O P O L O G Y • N U M B E R 33 The Canela (Eastern Timbira), I AN ETHNOGRAPHIC INTRODUCTION William H. Crocker SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION PRESS Washington, D.C. 1990 A B S T R A C T Crocker, William H. The Canela (Eastern Timbira), I: An Ethnographic Introduction. Smithsonian Contributions to Anthropology, number 33, 487 pages, 11 tables, 51 figures, 78 plates, 1990.—This monograph is about the Canela Indians of the municipio of Barra do Corda, in the state of Maranhao, Brazil, and also about the neighboring Apanyekra, who are culturally very similar and are used here for comparisons. The Canela are also known as the Ramkokamekra-Canela, or the Eastern Timbira. These names were given to them in the monograph, "The Eastern Timbira," by Brazil's great ethnologist, Curt Nimuendaju (1946). The present monograph, referred to herein as the "Canela Introduction," is a product of 64 months of fieldwork over a period of 22 years. It is the first volume of several in a potential series. The Canela live in the ecologically intermediate cerrado area between tropical forest Amazonia and the dry Brazilian Northeast. First contacted over two centuries ago and pacified in 1814, they were largely hunters and gatherers, depending little on crops. Now, however, they support themselves principally by swidden agriculture, producing mostly bitter manioc and dry rice. Having passed through an acculturative nadir in the 1960s, they became adjusted to the backland Brazilians who were increasingly surrounding them in the 1970s. Their lands were legally demarcated between 1971 and 1978 by the Brazilian government's National Foundation of the Indian (FUNAI, the "Indian service") giving them security. Their population numbers increased from about 400 in 1968 to about 600 in 1978. Their sense of awareness as a people in the wider Brazilian setting began to develop in the late 1970s. Part I of this monograph describes the field situation and the methods used. Part II provides ethnographic background materials ranging from ecology and acculturation, through the various annual cycles, to material and recreative culture. Part III presents socialization, psychological orientations, and the social, political, and terminological (kinship) systems. Part IV is devoted to religion taken in its broadest sense and includes the festival system, individual rites of passage, mythical history and cosmology, and shamanism, ethnobiology, pollution, medicine. Part V is a presentation and analysis of the Canela's special kind of dualism. The epilogue brings the reader up to 1989 in certain topics, and the appendices provide information on the Canela research collections (material artifacts, photographs, films, magnetic tapes, manuscripts) at the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. OFFICIAL PUBLICATION DATE is handstamped in a limited number of initial copies and is recorded in the Institution's annual report, Smithsonian Year. COVER DESIGN: Initiates' plaza group genipap body painting designs of Pepye festival, 1975 (see Plates 26, 27). Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Crocker, William H. (William Henry) The Canela (Eastern Timbira), I: an ethnographic introduction / William H. Crocker. p. cm.—(Smithsonian contributions to anthropology ; no. 33) Includes bibliographic references. 1. Canela Indians. I. Title. II. Series. GN1.S54 no. 33 [F3722.1.C23] 305.8'983-dc20 89-600303 CIP Contents Page FOREWORD, by Charles Wagley xi PREFACE xv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS xvii INTRODUCTION 1 The Canela 1 The Apanyekra 1 Objectives and Structure of This Volume 1 Definitions and Editorial Decisions 6 Linguistic Key 9 Chronology of the Canela 10 PART I: The Field Situation 13 A. General Characteristics 16 B. Early Acceptance Experiences 27 C. Problem-solving in the Field 29 D. Field Equipment 32 E. Learning the Canela Language 35 F. Diaries and Tapes 37 G. Special Research Assistants 39 H. Special Friends in the State of Maranhao 52 PART II: Ethnographic Background 56 A. Ge Language Family, Its Populations, and Ecology 57 B. Diachronic Context 69 C. Annual Cycles 92 D. Life Cycles 101 E. Daily Cycle 116 F. "Recreation" 129 G. Artifacts 142 PART III: Social Organization 156 A. Socialization and Related Adult Activities 156 B. Psychological "Polarities," Values, and Behavioral Orientations 183 C. Socioceremonial Units 193 D. Political System 209 E. Terminological Relationship Systems 234 F. Marriage 257 PART IV: Ceremonial and Belief Systems 269 A. Festival System 269 B. Individual Rites 289 C. Oral History and Cosmology 302 D. Shamanism, Pollution, and Medicine 313 PART V: Canela Structural Patterns 322 A. Structures in Some Sociocultural Sectors 322 B. Key Expressions in Other Contexts 335 i n iv SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY EPILOGUE: The Canela in the 1980s 338 APPENDICES 1. Ten Field Trips to the Canela over 22 Years 348 2. Canela and Apanyekra Collections at the Smithsonian Institution 350 3. Primary Materials for Future Studies 353 4. Linguistic Notes 356 5. Concept of "Today" 361 6. Sources of Data 363 NOTES 366 GLOSSARY 369 LITERATURE CITED 379 REFERENCE OUTLINE 385 PLATES 409 Tables 1. Meteorological averages of data from principal meteorological and climatological station of Barra do Corda, Maranhao, Brazil, 1971 93 2. Canela sayings and common expressions referring to the annual environmental cycle 94 3. Annual cycle of economic activities 96 4. Annual festival cycle 99 5. Life cycles of women and men 102 6. Canela expressions for times of day 118 7. Daily cycle of events of Canela 118 8. Canela artifacts and field numbers of donations to museums from 1960 onward 144 9. Social developmental stages of the individual as described in currently used Canela expressions 181 10. Some kintypes of the consanguineal and affinal kinship categories 235 11. Canela kinship terms 236 Maps 1. Ge-speaking Indians and their neighbors 2 2. 1985 road map of Northeast Brazil to the Araguaia River showing the Canela and Apanyekra villages 14 3. Canela and Apanyekra reservations and surrounding backlands, 1986-1987 . . 18 4. Eastern Timbira and their neighbors, past and present 20 5. Escalvado village and Indian service post buildings, 1975 22 6. Porquinhos village and Indian service post buildings, 1975 24 7. Canela area and agricultural lands, 1969 66 8. Apanyekra area and agricultural lands, 1974 67 Figures Frontispiece 1. Escalvado (a Canela village), 1975 23 2. Porquinhos (an Apanyekra village), 1975 25 3. Cerrado countryside ("closed savannas"), 1969 61 NUMBER 33 4. Racing-log preparation in the "gallery forest" undergrowth, Escal­ vado, 1969 62 5. Dry forest near Sardinha 63 6. Deciduous dry forest in October, 1971 64 7. Indian service agent Olimpio Martins Cruz 73 8. Bridge built at Ourives in 1969 to protect the Canela after their return to their cerrado homeland 79 9. Indian service agent Sebastiao Ferreira 80 10. Sr. Sebastiao's wife, Dona Fdtima, with her children 81 11. Jack Popjes of the SIL with Canela and backlander 83 12. Canela concepts of "this day" 120 13. Timbira sport of relay racing, carrying logs 125 14. Uncle disciplining nephew before female dance line 127 15. Uncle disciplining nephew before female dance line 128 16. Growth stages 180 17. Plaza moiety group locations during Pepye and Fish festivals 199 18. Chief Kaara?khre lecturing in morning plaza council meeting 216 19. Pro-khamma eating haakwd meat pies in their southwest corner of the plaza 225 20. Model of one-link/further-links away from ego kin 237 21. Model of the two most important consanguineal successions 238 22. Division of a Canela hearth group 239 23. Classificatory one-link away kin 240 24. Canela longhouses and age-set positions around plaza 241 25. Apanyekra longhouses and Regeneration moiety positions around plaza . . . . 242 26. Ideal Canela consanguineal terminology, female ego 243 27. Ideal Canela consanguineal terminology, male ego 244 28. Affinal models of "in"-house (born in family) versus "out"-of-house (married into family) terminological distinctions 245 29. Model of classificatory spouses between two marriage-connected houses, female ego, with alternatives 247 30. Model of classificatory spouses between two marriage-connected houses, male ego, with alternatives 247 31. Ideal affinal terminology of a woman's affines in husband's natal longhouse, with alternatives 250 32. Ideal affinal terminology of a man's affines in wife's longhouse, with alternatives 250 33. Terms of address in women's ideal affinal terminology for husbands' kin in their matrilateral and across-the-plaza longhouses, with alternatives (two female egos) 251 34. Terms of address in men's ideal affinal terminology for wive's kin in their matrilateral and across-the-plaza longhouses, with alternatives (two male egos) 251 35. Canela and Apanyekra model of female name-set transmission 252 36. Canela and Apanyekra model of male name-set transmission 253 37. Canela and Apanyekra model of exchanged name-set transmission for parallel- and cross-cousins 254 38. Canela and Apanyekra equate "blood" of uterine siblings 265 39. Canela and Apanyekra matriline "blood" attenuation through marriage 265 40. The flow of kin through time 266 41. Canela matriline "blood" attenuation and the sweet potato vine concept of descent 267 42. Model of genealogical "distance" between parallel cousins 267 43. Canela cross-cousin, across-the-plaza, linked longhouses 268 vi SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 44. Marital bridge of equivalent "blood" pairs connects houses across the plaza . . 268 45. We?te girl stands before K6?khre log with a burned-out trough 278 46. Cloth-and-feathered decorated Little Falcon swings on vine from mast, "flying" (pushing off) from his cage 280 47. Red and Black Regeneration season moiety membership sitting locations during the Ayren ceremony 281 48. Bride's female in-laws painting her belt with red urucu 293 49. Bride's female in-laws wrapping the belt of long cord around her hips 294 50. The older Kaapeltuk listening at a meeting in the plaza 340 51. The younger Kaapeltuk writing in his diary 342 Plates 1. Views of Sao Luis from the top of Hotel Central in 1964 409 2. Barra do Corda in the late 1950s 410 3. Barra do Corda Centra 411 4. Modes of transportation 412 5. Escalvado from the air 413 6. Views of the new Escalvado village, 1969 414 7. House types of the Canela and Apanyekra 415 8. Special features of houses 416 9. Interiors of houses 417 10. Features of house construction 418 11. Indian service post buildings 419 12. Cultivation patterns 420 13. Views of Canela landscapes 421 14. Agricultural and trapping artifacts 422 15. Hunting and food distribution 423 16. Food preparation 424 17. Household tasks 425 18. Cord-making and weaving techniques 426 19. Children's activities 427 20. Steps in preparing manioc 428 21. Steps in preparing manioc 429 22. Steps in making a meat pie 430 23. Steps in making a meat pie 431 24. Ear-piercing rite 432 25. Ear-piercing rite 433 26. Genipap body painting designs of the plaza groups at Escalvado, 1975 434 27. Body decorations 435 28. Games and ceremonies 436 29. Curing techniques 437 30. Mourning and burial preparation 438 31. Burial procedures 439 32. Daily and ceremonial singing 440 33. Late afternoon sing-dance 441 34. Making a racing log 442 35. Log racing with Palra logs 443 36. Pepye festival 444 37. Pepye festival and fierce warrior act 445 38. Sardinha, 1963 446 39. Formal and Informal Friendships 447 40. Terminal phase of the Pepye festival 448 41. Kheetuwaye festival 450 NUMBER 33 vii 42. Pepye festival 451 43. Pepye festival's terminal phase 452 44. Pepkahak festival 453 45. Pepkahak all-night singing and wasp killing during festival 454 46. Clowns 455 47. Fish and Sweet Potato festivities 456 48. Scenes of Masks' activities 457 49. Masks' activities 458 50. Palra ritual 459 51. Palra ritual 460 52. We?t6 festival scenes 461 53. Corn ceremonies 462 54. Festival of Oranges 463 55. Urban and backlander influences 464 56. Artifacts in use 465 57. Artifacts in use 466 58. Artifacts 467 59. Artifacts 468 60. Artifacts 469 61. Artifacts 470 62. Pierced-ear decorations and tools 471 63. Ceremonial weapons 472 64. Ceremonial staffs 473 65. Artifacts 474 66. Artifacts 475 67. Artifacts 476 68. Portraits of Canela assistants 477 69. Portraits of Canela assistants 478 70. Portraits of Canela assistants 479 71. Portraits of Canela assistants 480 72. Representative portraits of backlanders 481 73. Representative portraits of Canela and Apanyekra 482 74. Representative portraits of Canela and Apanyekra 483 75. Representative portraits of Canela and Apanyekra 484 76. Representative portraits of Canela and Apanyekra 485 77. Representative portraits of Canela and Apanyekra 486 78. Views of Barra do Corda in the 1980s 487 Dedication This first book, The Canela (Eastern Timbira), I: An Ethnographic Introduction, is dedicated to the younger Kaapeltuk because of his devotion, endurance, and capability as an excellent research assistant. I will never forget his great friendship and confidences. Without his very considerable assistance, the quality of information would have been considerably less. Epigraph The younger Kaapeltuk chided his helpers in 1958 in this manner: Nee Pip ma tswa?nd no pal pram naare, kwilyape ka ha katut khdm me kumdm me panketye kaakaa-tsd pit yaare. [negative-emphasis Crocker in-himself (lies, made-up-stories) any to-hear wants not, therefore you will narrowly-correctly in-that-way plural-you to-him plural forefather's (breathing-thing, lifestyle, customs) only tell] Pep doesn't want to listen to lies; therefore, you must tell him only correctly about our forefathers' life style. [Mr. Jack Popjes (SIL) provided the version of the sentence in Canela (checked by Yaako) and its free translation.] • M i FRONTISPIECE.—The younger Kaapeltuk. Foreword This is a book about a remarkable people. It is a detailed study of the Canela Indians, also known as the Ramkokamekra (Ramcocamecra), in central Maranhao state in northeastern Brazil. It also contains comparative data on the Apanyekra, a closely related tribe living nearby having a very similar language and known as one of the Canela tribes. Both the Canela proper and the Apanyekra, as well as the nearby Krah6, speak languages of the Eastern Timbira branch of the Ge family. The Canela are related linguistically and culturally to more distant Ge-speaking peoples, such as the Sherente, Shavante, Apinaye, and Kayapo, who live south and west in central Brazil, as well as to the Kaingang and Shokleng of southern Brazil. These Ge tribes traditionally live on the bush country of the Brazilian plateau beyond the tropical forest. When I first began to study South American ethnology in the mid-1930s, these tribes were often called Tapuya (the name for "enemy" among the coastal Tupinamba) and were depicted as simple nomadic hunters distinct from the Carib, Arawak, and Tupi tribes of the Amazonian forest. In the late 1930s and early 1940s, our picture of these Ge tribes changed radically with the publication of the studies by the German-Brazilian Curt Nimuendajii. From his studies of the Apinaye (1939), Sherente (1942), and Eastern Timbira (Canela) (1946), the Ge lacked pottery, hammocks, tobacco, alcohol, canoes, and wore no clothing; their domestic dwellings were simple compared to tropical forest peoples. They depended marginally on horticulture in the narrow strips of forest along the rivers and streams but mainly on hunting and gathering in the bush country (the cerrado). However, Nimuendaju's studies showed them to be societies with exceedingly complex social systems and a very elaborate ceremonial life. In aboriginal times, their villages were surprisingly large when compared to those of the tropical forest peoples. They were an anomaly in lowland South American ethnography. They were similar in many ways to the marginal cultures of the southern pampas and Tierra del Fuego, but they were more complex in social structure and ceremonial life than the people of the Amazonian tropical forest. This apparent contradiction was hardly resolved by the "Handbook of South American Indians" (Steward, 1946), which assigned them to Volume One along with the Marginal Tribes of the extreme southern part of the hemisphere. Others attempted to explain their technological simplicity and their ideological and socio­ logical complexity as "degenerate remnants" of highland South American civilizations. At least one leading anthropologist spoke of a "play impulse" in human culture as the basis for their complex social institutions. Curt Nimuendajii was not an academically trained anthro­ pologist. He was born in Germany in 1883 as CurtUnkel. Little is known about his formal education or how he was attracted to the study of South American Indians. In 1903, at 20 years of age, he came to Brazil, and by 1905 he was living among the Guaranf Indians of southern Brazil. His first two publications on the Guaranf in 1914 and 1915 were signed Curt Nimuendajii Unkel but afterwards he dropped his German surname and adopted his Guaranf name Nimuendajii, legally and in all his subsequent publications. In 1910, he became an employee of the newly created Indian service, the SPI or Indian Protection Service, which made use of his thorough knowledge of the Indians of southern Brazil. In 1913 he moved his headquarters to Belem, where he was rather informally connected with the Museu Paraense Emflio Goeldi. For many years, he supported himself by occasional missions for the Brazilian Indian services and by making ethnographic collections for European muse­ ums. In the early 1930s, he entered into correspondence with Professor Robert E. Lowie of the University of California at Berkeley. Lowie became his scientific advisor, his translator from German into English, and his editor. Lowie seems to have found some limited financial support for Nimuendajii and his work from the Carnegie Institution of Washington and from the University of California. It was this relationship with Lowie that explains the appearance of Nimuendajii's studies of the Ge tribes in English rather than German or Portuguese. Nimuendajii was an indefatigable field worker in sociocultu- ral anthropology. According to Herbert Baldus there was not a year between 1905 and 1942 that he did not undertake fieldwork of some kind with Brazilian Indians (American Anthropologist, 1946(48):238-243). In fact, he seems to have been more at home among tribal peoples man in Brazilian society. By 1930-1940 his work was focused on the Ge-speaking peoples, particularly the Ramkokamekra or Canela. His reports were detailed and generally sound ethnographic reporting. Yet his studies left many questions in the minds of anthropologists. In the mid-1950s, two young anthropologists, David Maybury-Lewis and William Crocker, took up Nimuendajii's work among the Ge tribes. Maybury-Lewis, now Professor of Anthropology at Harvard University, did research among the Sherente in 1955-1956 and then among the closely related Shavante in 1958 (cf. Maybury-Lewis, 1965 and 1967). Later, the Harvard Central-Brazil Project was organized under his leadership. In the 1960s his students (and Brazilian colleagues) carried out field research among the Kayapo (Joan Bamberger and Terence Turner), Apinaye (Roberto Da Matta), Kraho xi Xll SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY (Jiilio Cezar Melatti), Krikati (Jean Carter Lave and Dolores Newton), Bororo (Christopher Crocker), and Nambikuara (Cecil Cook). This research has resulted in many articles and monographs as well as one comparative volume "Dialectical Societies" (Maybury-Lewis, 1979). From this research by the group of the Harvard Central-Brazil Project, we have learned much about the Ge-speaking tribes, particularly about their intricate social structure. The other anthropologist who took up Curt Nimuendajii's study of the Ge, William Crocker, now on the staff of the Smithsonian Institution, began his research in 1957. His approach differed fundamentally from the Harvard group. Crocker's research focused upon a Ge tribe, namely the Canela of the Eastern Timbira branch. The Canela had been the subject of Nimuendajii's most detailed and lengthy monograph and the group to which Nimuendajii had devoted the most time in field research. Although William Crocker has met with the Harvard group and has followed their work closely, his research has been an individual undertaking. Between 1957 and 1979, Crocker visited the Canela 10 times and logged 64 months of field research. In fact, William Crocker has devoted practically his whole professional life, in addition to his curatorial duties, to the study of the Canela (and marginally to the related Apanyekra). In addition, he has maintained almost daily contact with the Canela from a distance. In 1964, three Canela men who knew Portuguese wrote daily diaries and in 1970, two of them dictated daily activities and news of the Canela onto cassette tapes. In 1978, a woman was added to the group of correspondents. By 1979, twelve Canela were corresponding with Crocker in the Ge language and in Portuguese. A total of 78,400 pages of manuscript has been collected by William Crocker from his correspondence with Canela individuals. This continuous monitoring of Canela society, added to his long term field research in residence, must be among the most intensive long term projects undertaken by any contemporary social anthro­ pologist. William Crocker's time in the field exceeds that of any of the cases included in "Long-Term Field Research in Social Anthropology" (Foster et al., 1979:12). Here, only Alfonso Villa Rojas reports more (100 months) among various Maya villages in Yucatan and Chiapas; but Villa Rojas divided his 45 years between Chan Kom and Quintana Roo in Yucatan and many other years in Chiapas. Only George Foster reports more years (31+ years) for one person devoted to one village (Tzintzuntzan). In addition to his many months of resident research and his continuous correspondence directly with Canela informants, Crocker made use of a field technique of considerable originality. First, he refuses to use the traditional term "informants" for the natives who instructed and taught the field worker. Throughout this book he uses the term "research assistants." He does so out of respect for them and to avoid the negative implications of that term in the English context. Furthermore, he turned his Canela assistants into a panel, which often met face to face when he was in residence in the Canela village. During such meetings Crocker posed questions around problems regarding Canela social structure, ceremonialism, and ideology. His panel of assistants did not always agree and there was lively discussion, which he recorded on tape. Such discussions helped the field anthropolo­ gist to delve deeply into the past of the Canela culture and society; they also made clear that different individuals viewed their culture in different ways. Seldom have I read a book about a nonliterate people that spelled out in such detail how such a study was done. Taken as a study in field method alone William Crocker's book is an important contribution to social anthro­ pology. Of course, the importance of this book is the substance. Crocker selected the Canela for study because Curt Nimuen­ dajii had written his most detailed and comprehensive monograph about them. Nimuendajii's monograph, based on research in the 1930s, provided him a baseline for a study in acculturation after 20 years. Thus, Crocker's original motiva­ tion for studying the Canela was to calculate culture change. The present study does more than present two cross-sections in time of a society: between 1929-1936 (Nimuendajii) and 1957-1979 (Crocker). Crocker has, with the help of Nimuen­ dajii's data, written a diachronic history of the Canela from circa 1930 to 1979. Specific changes and directions of change in Canela society and culture are constantly described and discussed in this monograph. For no other lowland group do we have such detailed data on culture change over a half century as we have from the observations of these two highly perceptive ethnographers. On reading William Crocker's manuscript, however, I was constantly impressed with the strength of Canela society to maintain its distinctive, indigenous way of life in the face of what seem to be overwhelming odds. Since their first contacts with western man in the 18th and early 19th century, the Canela have experienced epidemics of imported disease, participated in local wars, suffered from attacks of local ranchers, and survived the disruption of their rather sensitive ecological adjustment. The encroachment of cattle ranchers with their herds into the cerrado country reduced the available game on which the Canela depended. Cattle invaded their small gardens situated in the narrow strips of forest along the banks of streams. After an attack by backland ranchers the Canela were transferred out of their beloved bush country to the dry forest of the Guajajara-Tenetehara Indian reservation. They did not adjust "ecologically or psychologically,'' and after three years they were allowed to return to the cerrado country where they still live. Despite these events (and many otiiers over two centuries) the Canela have maintained their social institutions, most of their ceremonial life, and above all a strong sense of tribal identity. This is particularly striking to me, for in 1941-1942 I did research among the neighboring Tupi-speaking Guajajara- NUMBER 33 Xll l Tenetehara (Wagley and Galvao, 1949). The Guajajara- Tenetehara, although clearly Indians speaking their native tongue and maintaining many indigenous customs and a few festivals, were in many ways almost indistinguishable from the local backwoods men. They wore western clothes, made large swidden gardens cut out of the forests, lived in individual family dwellings, and collected copaiba oil and babacu palm nuts for sale. In contrast the Canela men in their village were nude and women wore only wrap-around skirts; Canela men wore their hair long in their characteristic style and most had large ear-plugs; the Canela village was laid out in its great circle around a plaza; and the Canela seemed constantly to be either celebrating a ceremonial in the village plaza and/or participating in their "national sport," relay foot-racing, carrying enormous logs. This monograph answers for me the query as to why the Canela have been so resistant to fundamental change in contrast to the Guajajara-Tenetehara. The social structure of the Guajajara-Tenetehara is relatively unstructured and malleable. There are no institutions that cut across or extend beyond each village—that is, no age-sets, ceremonial associations, nor lines of political authority. Among the Guajajara-Tenetehara the basic social and political institution is the extended family or at best a matrilineal kindred. Although villages often have a chieftain, he is either appointed by the Indian service or recognized as such by outsiders. Real authority lies with the leaders of the various extended families or kindreds. Thus, as villages grow and nearby forest becomes scarce for gardens, Guajajara-Tenetehara villages divide like amoeba. Such amor­ phous social systems are conducive to factionalism, competi­ tion, and lack of cooperation. In contrast, Canela society is characterized by a plethora of cross-cutting associations and formal relationships that assure maintenance of a village as a unit. In addition to kinship units that live on different sides of the circular village and govern marriage, the Canela are divided into a series of moieties and ceremonial associations. There are the Upper and Lower plaza group moieties, which are further divided into three plaza groups to which men become members by inherited personal names; and the Red and Black Regeneration moieties, which function during the rainy season. Then, there are the age-set moieties of all males divided into classes with membership spanning 10 years. In addition, there are numerous social groups charged with specific festivals. Each group has a varied cast. The complexity of these numerous and interlocking groups and die special relationships of Formal Friends are discussed most adequately by William Crocker. But the reader comes away with the conclusion that to provide sufficient membership for all of these associations to function a village needs to be relatively large (e.g., 500), that is, large for any lowland South American group. History indicates that Canela villages were around 1000 or more in pre-contact times but they were reduced for a time to 300 or 400 people. Furdiermore, despite all of the built-in forces in their social system that should guarantee tribal unity, Crocker reports the recent break up of the large village into smaller farm settlements, though the existence of the large village continues for festivals and tribal meetings. One can only account for the remarkable continuity of Canela culture and the strength of tribal ideology by the complex structure of their social system. In the present monograph, Crocker presents a picture of the functional importance of the various institutions to promote internal harmony. It would seem almost impossible for factions to grow in Canela society. An individual is a member of any one of a dozen kinship units that occupy houses around me village plaza. At marriage a man moves to the dwelling of the wife but he retains important relationships in his natal kin group (e.g., sisters and sisters' sons). His loyalty is already divided between his natal household and the household of his spouse. But then he belongs to a Red or Black moiety, an age-set moiety, a plaza moiety and one or more ceremonial associations. In each of these groups his associates may be entirely different people. Furdiermore, he is tied strongly to specific individuals, such as Formal Friends and mose who provided him with his set of names. Thus group loyalties are diffuse and none of these groups provide the basis for factions to take form. It is not surprising that Crocker describes the Canela as nonaggressive, noncompetitive, and anxious to avoid internal conflict. Even the log races between the various associations seem to be basically noncompetitive. Sexual jealously of spouses is frowned upon and numerous institutionalized occasions for extramarital sex are provided by me society. An expectant mother names publicly the "co-fathers" of her child, mat is, the men who have contributed semen to her pregnancy. Yet divorce is made difficult by interfamilial payments and is rare while children are being raised. Then it must come before the judgment of the chief and the council of elders. Still Crocker hypothesizes that in pre-contact times, the Canela were a very war-like people. Thus, dieir internal cohesion can be translated into external aggression. In fact, they participated in the regional Balaiada battles of die Cabanagem rebellion, after me Independence of Brazil (1839-1840), in die fight against the Gamella Indians in 1850, and in the suppressing (with die Brazilians) of the uprising of the Tenetehara-Guajajara in 1901. Crocker sees the Canela in pre-contact times as almost as war-like as the Kayapo and Shavante were. This monograph is not only a study of institutions and ceremonies. It is above all a chronicle of a people and their reaction to the institutions of their society. William Crocker is a most sensitive and sympathetic field researcher and a keen observer. Throughout his present book he cites individual cases he has known during two generations. He provides us with radier detailed biographies of his principal Canela assistants. When I read Curt Nimuendajii's rather formal monograph on the Canela, I kept wondering how an individual would react to the multiple groups and obligations of Canela society. Crocker provides die answer by citing the cases of individuals. In his XIV SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY wealth of information, Crocker has put human flesh and muscle on the bones of Canela social structure. With the publication of this monograph, the Canela become one of the best known aboriginal societies of lowland Soum America. If Crocker does provide us with the additional monographs in his planned series, the Canela will become one of the best known cultures of the so-called primitive world. If Curt Nimuendaju were alive, I am sure that he would join me in congratulating both the Canela Indians and William Crocker on the publication of this monograph. Charles Wagley Graduate Research Professor Emeritus of Anthropology University of Florida Gainesville, Florida, 1987 Preface [Pr.l] Research Some ethnologists carry out dieir fieldwork in a number of different tribes. Otiiers spend a lifetime in one tribe or a set of vtilages. I am devoting my professional life to studying only two closely related tribes: die Canela and the Apanyekra. Goals of my early field research (1957-1960) were to study acculturation, change and conservatism dirough time, and the processes of innovation. The major orientation toward long term research became evident only in 1964. This diachronic orientation was appropriate because my position at the Smithsonian Institution emphasized field research and facili­ tated such a long term point of view. It was also appropriate because of my early training in acculturation studies and my education in holistic sociology, psychology, and cultural systems. Consequently, my particular interests evolved into a focus on how one sociocultural system operates in relation to a larger one—synchronically and diachronically—rather than on kinship, South American national or tribal studies, or the cross-cultural comparison of the origins of various cultural traits. (For perspectives on long term studies, see Foster et al., 1979.) My fieldwork in Brazil started in 1956 when Professor David A. Baerreis at me Department of Anthropology of the University of Wisconsin, Madison, sent me as a doctoral candidate to Charles Wagley for introductions to Brazil. After meeting with Professor Wagley in New York City on several occasions, he gave me two letters, in early 1957, to friends in Brazil. One was to his junior colleague, the late Dr. Eduardo Galvao, and the other was to his co-godparent, the late Dona Heloisa Alberto Torres. All die necessary official permissions were obtained in this way through these two individuals. (See Appendix 1 for details about the 10 field trips from 1957 through 1979.) The field research among the Canela began in August 1957. By August 1960, after 24 months with the two tribes, four months back in Wisconsin, and additional montiis in Brazilian towns and cities, the predoctoral period of field research was completed. The postdoctoral fieldwork continued dirough the 1960s and 1970s and ended in October 1979. The total time spent with the two tribes was 64 months over a span of 22 years. Work on related articles (Crocker, 1982, 1983, 1984a, 1984b) continued through 1983. In April and May of 1984,1 carried out a detailed, written study for the development and eventual publication of most of me materials collected in the field. It became evident, then, that there were sufficient materials with relatively isolable subjects to justify their inclusion in at least eight and possibly more than 17 separate book-length publications. The following are the topics planned for die entire series, beginning with the eight monographs. While there might be significant variations from this plan, monographs will consider (1) the broad ethnographic coverage of the sociocultural systems (this monograph) for the general ethnologist, stressing social organization and furnishing most of the background materials for subsequent books in the series; (2) the relationship systems (kinship and otiiers) in full detail and analysis, including Northern Ge comparisons [III.E] (see p. 6 for explanation of cross-reference notation); (3) the patterns of dualism [V.A] and other cognitive orientations [V.B]; (4) die messianic movement of 1963 and world comparisons [II.B.2.f]; (5) the festival system described and analyzed in detail, including Northern Ge comparisons [II.C.4], [IVA]; (6) the religious system (shamanism, pollutions, medicine) [IV.D] and individual life cycle rites [IVB]; (7) die re-study of "The Eastern Timbira" (Nimuendaju, 1946), including previously unpresented general ethnographic materials; and (8) die analysis of the acculturation, conservatism, and long term trends over 100 years, as well as other still unpresented ethnographic data [II.B]. Three books oriented to the general public are also planned: (9) a general college reader, which could be translated into Portuguese; (10) an annotated photographic album [I.D.I.c], [I.D.2.C], [Ap.2.b], [Ap.3.f]; and (11) an ecologically oriented college reader contrasting die Canela and Apanyekra tribes [II.A.3.d], their 19th century and present adaptations, and die closed savanna (cerrado) versus the dry forest adaptations of the Canela during die 1960s [II.B.2.g]. Finally, six types of primary data could constitute the basis for each of six more publications. The first (item 12) is a collection of 78,420 pages (written) and 708 hours (taped) of native diaries from which biographical, acculturative, and psychological accounts could be developed [I.F], [Ap.2.e], [Ap.3.a]. The second accumulation of primary data (item 13) is 120 myths and war stories (taped and translated into backland Portuguese) from which pan-Ge comparisons could be made [Ap.2.d.(2), Ap.3.b]. Then there are (item 14) 88 hours of taped political sessions (plaza meetings [II.E.8]) and judicial hearings (interfamily trials [III.D.3.a,b]) from which value-laden and decision-making materials could be abstracted and interpreted [Ap.2.d.(3)], [Ap.3.c]. There are also (item 15) 72 taped hours, made from 16 mm film sound tracks, from which children's verbal materials could be analyzed and interpreted for a better xv XVI SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY understanding of the socialization process [Ap.2.d.(5)], [Ap.3.d]. Additionally, there are (item 16) 140 hours of taped musical recordings from which analyses of singing could be structured and compared cross-culturally [II.F.l], [Ap.2.d.(l)], [Ap.3.e]. Finally, tiiere are (item 17) the 120,000 feet of 16 mm film from which the socialization process could be analyzed and clarified [Ap.3.h], Besides the materials already mentioned, there are also extensive collections of photographic field data: still records (prints, Polaroids, and slides) [I.D.l.c,2.c], [Ap.2.b], [Ap.3.f]; films (16mm and Super-8) [I.D.I.c,2.c], [Ap.2.c], [Ap.3.f]; and material artifacts [II.G], [Ap.2.a], [Ap.3.g]. Almost all the primary materials collected in the field are available to qualified colleagues for research. These are listed in Appendix 2 on a quantitative basis and in Appendix 3 on a descriptive basis. However, the listing of the planned monographs is included here more to emphasize that this monograph is an introduction, not a complete treatment of the subject at hand. [Pr.2] Fieldwork A frequent question asked me is "How did you happen to choose the Canela as a people to study?" Obviously, many factors led to this choice. The first factor was that Latin American culture came to have a special place in my feelings. This occurred first just after World War II in the Philippines, where as a soldier I experienced the Hispanic tradition and liked it, and again in Mexico, directly after returning from me war in 1946. While studying Spanish, I lived in a Mexican family me members of which did not speak English. There was something about the personal warmth and freedom to express oneself in emotional ways that was appealing. Later in college, I took courses in Spanish grammar and literature, and from diese studies, my feelings and interests developed, leading me to greater interest in the Hispanic world. Thus, as a graduate student in anthropology in the early 1950s, I never had any doubt about what part of die world would be my area of specialty. The theoretical focus came later. The research possibilities inherent in the restudies by Robert Redfield (1941), Robert Redfield and Alfonso Villa Rojas (1934), and Oscar Lewis (1951) were optimal. Through the introductions of Alfonso Villa Rojas, I actually visited in die summer of 1951 for several weeks the communities of Dzitas and Chan Kom, studied by Redfield and Villa Rojas. Aldiough I had initially been preparing myself for work in applied anthropology and urban settings, I decided in 1956 that tribal life would be best for my particular set of abilities and interests. I wanted a tribe, moreover, that was little influenced by Christianity in order to experience a quite different set of values. South America was better for fieldwork than Mexico or Central America because North American influence there was less. Thinking along these lines, I studied the references in die "Handbook of South American Indians" (Steward, 1946- 1959), and found that "The Eastern Timbira" (Nimuendajii, 1946) seemed to be the best monograph on which to carry out my ideas for a restudy. Learning Portuguese in order to do me research was an added attraction. I like languages, and any Latin Americanist should know Portuguese as well as Spanish. Even after these preparations, I was fortunate that it was possible to carry out the research of my first choice: a restudy of "The Eastern Timbira," and the Canela. Some field researchers write very little about how tiiey carried out their ethnological fieldwork. Colleagues today, however, want to know about field experiences in order to facilitate tiieir assessment of a publication. In tribal etiinology, because communication is almost always uncertain, we often do not use random sampling, questionnaires, and odier sociological and statistical techniques. Length of time in the field, close familiarity with the ecological setting, close rapport with the people (especially witii certain key informants), and a consistent focus on improving communication are the ethnolo­ gist's techniques for enhancing relative objectivity, reliability, and the validity of field data. A principal source of information after the first 18 months, besides extensive census-time questioning, was working with the "research assistant council" of Canela informants, which I established. While visual observations and the results of limited questioning were continually recorded (written or taped) as daily notes, the principal daily work consisted of meeting with me research council group for about seven hours (8:00 AM to 12:00 and 2:00 to 5:00 PM). This group consisted of an interpreter/translator (the younger Kaapeltuk [Frontispiece]) and two to six relatively old and trained research assistants. Although I could usually follow dieir debates in Canela, the presence of the younger Kaapeltuk ensured reliable and precise communication in Portuguese and Canela [I.E.2]. The ages, number, and sex of these research assistants brought a variety of responses from which to cull cultural patterns and their variations. Council membership [I.G.2,4,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14] varied with die year and the topic under consideration and was composed of women and men chosen for their verbal ability (in Canela) and their special knowledge. They had also been selected for their age, because a major objective of the study was to reconstruct earlier beliefs and behavior patterns of their ancestors. (For more detail on die research assistant council, see [I.E]; on die research assistants themselves, see [I.G]; on the field equipment used, see [I.D].) Acknowledgments Giving credit where credit is due is always difficult because often there are so many people involved that an author does not know where to start. Since these acknowledgments pertain not only to this introductory monograph but cover a number of volumes—really my life's work—it seems best and most appropriate to start at the beginning of my anthropological training. George and Louise Spindler of Stanford University origi­ nally inspired me when I first entered the discipline. The psychological orientation found behind Spin's lectures was a contribution to my formative training at me master's level that stands far larger than any other person's input. On die doctoral level, at die University of Wisconsin, Madison, Milton Barnett continued the psychological orientation. These men account for the psychological focus of my earlier fieldwork and its principal study of socialization, and also for the similar focus of my later fieldwork in its special semantic study of key words and concepts. Nobody at the University of Wisconsin in 1956 could orient me for fieldwork in Brazil, so David Baerreis, an archeologist, sent me to Charles Wagley who was at Columbia University at mat time. Since then Chuck Wagley has been my chief mentor to me present day, with only the late Clifford Evans and Betty Meggers of die Smithsonian Institution assuming roles that could begin to compare with Chuck's. In Brazil, Eduardo and Clara Galvao helped me immensely, both personally and professionally. My work was carried out under Eduardo Galvao's auspices at the Museu Goeldi in Belem (and die University of Brasilia in 1964) until his death in 1976.1 reported to him before and after each trip and remember his commendations and criticisms with great appreciation. On me first trip in 1957, Galvao gave me a letter to Professor Darcy Ribeiro in Rio de Janeiro. He and Heloisa Alberto Torres obtained me very necessary permissions from the Brazilian Indian Protection Service (Servico de Protecao aos Indios). While waiting for my permissions to be processed in Rio de Janeiro, I spent many long hours and days in the Conselho Nacional de Protesao aos indios office of Dona Heloisa studying Nimuendajii's manuscript of "The Eastern Timbira" in Portuguese. Learning to know her better is one of my most treasured Brazilian experiences. Courses given by Darcy Ribeiro and Roberto Cardoso de Oliveira at die Centra de Pesquisas Educacionais at die foot of the Rua das Voluntarias da Patria in Bota Fogo were an inspiration. There, it was a great pleasure to meet and know a number of me Brazilian students in anthropology and sociology. In Sao Paulo, Professor Egon Schaden encouraged me, and Harald Schultz oriented me to the Canela. While staying with him and his wife, Vilma Chiara, for two days, we went on buying trips for die Canela in die local stores. During the 1960s, Dona Heloisa continued her role of obtaining difficult Indian Protection Service permissions, especially in 1963 during the Canela messianic movement. Schaden also continued to provide his theoretical inspiration along witii his warm friendship. Professor David Maybury- Lewis invited me to the series of pan-Ge seminars held at Harvard University in the winter and spring of 1966 where new informative contacts were made wim his students, especially Christopher Crocker, Roberto Da Matta, Julio Cesar Melatti, and Dolores Newton. Through these visits, a very significant shift toward kinship and otiier relationship systems was brought to my field studies. I am deeply grateful to die Harvard-Brazil group for their training and stimulation. The division of my fieldwork orientation into the earlier (pre-1967) and the later (post-1968) phases is due to our contact and exchanges in 1966. In 1971, Egon Schaden honored me wim an invition to die Primeiro Encontro de Estudos Brasileiros in Sao Paulo to give a principal paper, but for the rest of the decade tiiere was only limited contact with Brazilian colleagues. The critical backing and encouragement, in contrast, came from archeologists Clifford Evans and Betty Meggers at the Smithsonian. In fact, the 1979 fieldwork, during which the most important and satisfying research was carried out, could not have been undertaken, and especially not completed, without their crucial support. Thus, in summary, the most profound thanks and acknowl­ edgments must go to George D. Spindler, Eduardo Galvao, Heloisa Alberto Torres, and Clifford Evans and Betty Meggers; but the deepest professional and personal gratitude goes to Charles Wagley who made die fieldwork possible in the first place, and whose strong support, close friendship, and sound advice continue to this day. (Otiier acknowledgments are in Appendix 1.) A very special kind of recognition goes to a number of individuals in the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL: Wycliffe Bible Translators) in Rio de Janeiro, Brasilia, and Belem, as well as in me Canela village of Escalvado from 1969 through 1975. They helped me linguistically (Sarah Gudsh- insky, 1960 and 1966), let me talk short wave wim my wife in Washington, D.C. (Robert Wright, 1975), gave me a series of cortisone injections (Dr. Carl Harrison), and typed a 40-page report for me (Mary Jean Hostetier). They were great morale raisers (the whole Belem base, October 1979). In 1969, 1970 (Paul Marsteller), 1971, and 1975, SIL pilots ferried my wife and me, and twice her children, between Belem and the Canela xvn XV111 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY vtilage of Escalvado. Moreover, they provided innumerable services and kindnesses: especially two retreats on the Belem base, while working on a research paper (January, 1975) and while writing a CNPq (Conselho Nacional de Pesquisas) report (October, 1979). Jack Popjes (Figure 11) and his wife Josephine (both SIL) arranged for making and sending all the Canela informant materials, which constitute the very considerable body of data on the Canela during the 1980s. This information is on paper, tape cassette, and video cartridge. Jack and Jo added their observations and opinions by letter, tape cassette, and telephone (from Brazil and Canada). Thus, the epilogue, and any post-1979 information in this monograph, represents collaborative SIL-SI research between 1984 and mid-1989, which they have graceously allowed me to present here as well as a quotation from their newsletter, The Canela (Popjes and Popjes, 1986:2). Moreover, Jack and Jo have been great friends, whether attempting to cure a Canela together, debating issues while driving between Brazilian cities, or spending die evening in their Belem-base home, and I sincerely hope this relationship does continue. Acknowledgments to individuals in the field situation (more specifically in the state of Maranhao and die Municfpio of Barra do Corda) are extensive, and my appreciation is deep and my memories warm. Since I was there for long periods of time over 22 years, I formed numerous friendships, not all of which can be mentioned, but the foremost ones are described at die end of Part I [I.H]. Financial acknowledgments go principally to the Smith­ sonian Institution for the various years of field and office support, but in 1964 full support for fieldwork was received from the National Science Foundation and the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research. These two founda­ tions made possible die study of me 1963 Canela messianic movement as well as the analysis of die forced relocation of the Canela from a closed savanna (cerrado) to a dry forest environment. Support in die late 1950s came from me University of Wisconsin and from the Smith, Kline and French Pharmaceutical Company. The field research was carried out under the auspices of die University of Wisconsin (1957-1960) and die Smimsonian Institution (1963-1979). This field research (1957-1979) was also carried out under the control of the Museu Paraense Emflio Goeldi (Belem) for Brazil (O Museu Paraense Emflio Goeldi, 1986). Dr. Eduardo Galvao of die Goeldi advised me, except for during 1978-1979 when Sr. Expedito Arnaud was responsible. I am most grateful for Expedito's loyal support in October 1979. For the ten field trips, permissions were received from some part of either the Servico de Protecao aos Indios or, after 1968, me Fundacao Nacional do fndio. For most of the trips, permissions were also obtained from the earlier Conselho Nacional de Pesquisas or the later Conselho Nacional de Desenvolvimento Cientffico e Tecnologico. I have been deeply grateful to die government of Brazil for these authorizations and have immensely enjoyed and gready benefited from the privilege of working in Brazil—by feeling, my second country. In Washington, D.C., I want to thank the late Constance Walker Monroe and Virginia Waller for personal editorial assistance. Linda Maradol entered thousands of corrections onto the diskettes. Gail Solomon, research assistant, carried out countless hours of help on many aspects of the book— responsibly, tirelessly, imaginatively, and devotedly. She worked out die details of the bibliography and almost alone chose me photographs. Later she helped to mount the photographs for the press with the very skilled illustrator G. Robert Lewis, who is retired from the National Museum of Natural History. She also coordinated die preparation of die photographs widi the help of die NMNH's talented photo­ graphic specialist, Victor Krantz. Marcia Bakry, a Department of Anthropology illustrator, did the painstaking drawing of Figures and Maps. I am deeply appreciative for all this professional, but often personalized, assistance in developing the monograph into its final state. To Jean Thomas, the monograph's final personal editor and at the time my fiancee, I owe the great debt of having made die book more readable. During the summer and fall of 1987, she untangled my convoluted writing style, making it more understandable. We got married, nevertheless, in December. Joan Horn of the Smithsonian Institution Press carried out a careful and thoughtful study of the manuscript, as its editor. Her thousands of recommendations have sharpened the style and die thinking significantly. Upon Joan's retirement,Barbara Spann and Don Fisher, both of SIP, completed me editing and typesetting necessary to produce galleys and page proof. I am grateful for tiieir contribution, particularly Barbara's under­ standing and numerous constuctive decisions. Ray Roberts-Brown took die photographs on Plates 3b, 5a, and lOd while in the field witii me in June 1970. Drs. Anthony Seeger (then of Indiana University, now of Smithsonian Institution), Kenneth Kensinger (Bennington College), and Robert M. Laughlin (Smithsonian Institudon) were the official readers, and many thanks go to them for the perspectives they brought to the manuscript in May 1987, which resulted in several major organizational changes. Their critiques were more than just helpful; they were essential. In die final stages, Betty Meggers, the unofficial reader, provided critical professional advice about what to include and how to present certain issues for which I am deeply grateful. Contacts at the Lowland South American Indian Conferences of 1987 and 1988 at Bennington, Vermont, organized by Kenneth Kensinger, were especially helpful in enabling me to arrive at theoretical orientations, and Ken himself is one of the individuals to whom I am most grateful in this respect. Priscilla Rachun Linn, associated with several Smithsonian exhibits in Washington, is the other individual. She and Ken worked over every section of Part V with me. NUMBER 33 XIX The Brazilian anthropologist Carlos Alberto Ricardo, Gen­ eral Coordinator of Povos Indigenas no Brasil of the Centra Ecumenico de Documentacao e Informacao (CEDI) of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, provided the data necessary to draw die Canela and Apanyekra reservations on Map 3. Delvair and Julio Melatti also provided important information. Special recognition must go to Nimuendaju for one precise point. All of the botanical and zoological identifications in Latin in this monograph come from his monograph, "The Eastern Timbira" (1946), and especially me republication of its second chapter (Nimuendaju, 1974). I carried out no such identifications, so all credits of this sort must go to him. Appreciation goes to the Banco do Nordeste do Brasil, Fortaleza, Ceara, and its branch bank in Barra do Corda, for permission to republish four photographs of die beautification of Barra do Corda from its booklet Barra do Corda (Banco do Nordeste do Brasil SA, 1985). To Curt Nimuendaju—the great Brazilian generalist in anthropology of the first half of die 20th century—go my ultimate thanks for help received in the late 1950s. Without his extensive, published materials to learn from (1913,1937,1938, 1946), my accumulation of data in the early period of field research would have been far more difficult and would have proceeded much more slowly. Moreover, one of my principal objectives could not have been realized: a restudy of "The Eastern Timbira" and a basis from which to study change and continuity. Washington, D.C. October 1989 Introduction This monograph, which wdl be referred to as "Canela Introduction" for brevity, constitutes an overview of my ethnological field research among die Canela carried out between 1957 and 1979. As such, it is meant to serve as an ethnographic handbook for general ethnologists tiiroughout the world wherever Smithsonian Contributions to Anthropology is sent and exchanged. One purpose of this work is to reconstruct and relate what has happened to the Canela since die time of Curt Nimuendajii, who studied them between 1929 and 1936, and wrote his masterpiece, "The Eastern Timbira" (1946), on this tribe. Another purpose is to serve as an introduction for a series of volumes [PT.1] to be written during the next two decades or more. As an ethnographic handbook, this mono­ graph is primarily descriptive and is focused in places on the presentation of data-rich field materials. (For the explanation of the bracketed codes and for their interpretation and use, see [In.4.a].) [In.l] The Canela The Canela (more correcdy, the Ramkokamekra-Canela) of the state of Maranhao, Brazil, live just east of the watershed of die Amazon basin and just west of die drought-ridden Nordieast. They are a tribe of South American, Northern Ge-speaking Indians, like two better known tribes, die Kayapo, who occupy areas to the west of the Araguaia River, and the Apinaye, who live near it (Map 1). The Canela probably experienced tiieir first indirect European influences in the early part of the 18th century, or earlier [II.A.3.a.(l)]. They survived, however, to make peace with local pioneer audiorities in 1814 [II.B.l.a]. They surely numbered between 1000 and 2000, aboriginally,but were about 300 in the 1930s,400 in the 1960s, and 600 by 1979 [II.A.2]. The Canela combined hunting and gathering in "closed" savanna lands (cerrado) [II.A.3.b.(2)] with some horticulture, but in die 20th century diey have had to rely on slash-and-burn techniques for cultivating bitter manioc and dry rice, currently their principal crops [II.C.3]. The Canela were a comparatively inward-looking society aboriginally, being largely endogamous and relatively self- sufficient economically [IVC.l.f.(l)]. They relied little on trade witii other tribes. By die 1970s tiiey were dependent on die federal National Indian Foundation (Fundacao Nacional do fndio, FUNAI) (Glossary) for protection and medicine, and on local interior farmers ("backlanders") for economic support William H. Crocker, Department of Anthropology, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D£. 20560. dirough sharecropping and through rendering simple services for food [II.C.3.g]. By die mid-1970s, their economic viability and group morale had improved considerably in contrast to what they were in the late 1950s and 1960s [II.B.2.i]. The population expansion of one-third between 1969 and 1979 was due largely to their more confident outlook and to better medicine [II.B.3.i]. Both of these improvements were due to die greater care and concern of the National Indian Foundation [II.B.2.i.(2)]. The Canela have survived as an independent tribe speaking its own language because their ancestral lands have had few economic assets for Brazilian nationals to exploit and because no thoroughfares, either rivers or roads, pass dirough their immediate area [II.A.3.c] (W. Crocker, 1964b). (For traffic routes around the Canela area, see Map 2 [II.A.3.a.(2)],and for continuing overview material on the Canela, see "Outstanding Ethnology" [I.A.I]. Nimuendaju's (1946) work on the Canela is entered in the Human Relations Area Files (New Haven) and noted as "Ramcocamekra" by Murdock (1967) in his Ethno­ graphic Atlas. The Canela in Price (1989) are listed under the entries "Ramko-Kamekra," and "Canela.") [In.2] The Apanyekra The Apanyekra-Canela tribe, which will be referred to simply as the Apanyekra, is culturally so similar to the Canela that it is difficult for outsiders to find significant differences between them. The Apanyekra numbered about 175 in the late 1950s and increased to around 250 by the mid-1970s. They live between 45 and 55 kilometers to the west of the Canela (Map 3), depending on the varying locations of the two tribal villages within their own lands. These two Canela tribes speak the same language of die Ge family as the Kraho, who live some 300 kilometers to the southwest (Map 1). About 15 percent of my field research time was spent with die Apanyekra, which data are used for comparative purposes with the Canela. (For Ramkokamekra-Apanyekra ecological contrasts,see [II.A.3.d].) [In.3] Objectives and Structure of This Volume The objective of this introductory volume is to give the reader an overview of die Canela world and its operation. Several topics ([II.B] [III.B.2.f] [III.E] [IVA,B,D] [V.A]) already noted in die Preface [Pr.l] are intended for more SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY NAMBIKUARA 0 200 400 I i i i I l _ _ 600 _J KILOMETERS MAP 1.—Ge-speaking Indians of Central Brazil (roman capital letters) and their neighbors (in italics), and Timbira tribes of the 1970s (underscored) (rivers in smaller type). comprehensive treatment in future monographs. This mono­ graph includes as full treatment as the data so far collected allows on the following subjects: social groups [III.C], chieftainship [III.D.l], council of elders [III.D.2], judicial system [III.D.3], and marriage [III.F]. There is a third category of topics on which relatively little material was collected in die field: linguistics [Ap.4], geography, specific environmental studies [Pr.l], [II.A.3.d], [II.B.2.g], general ecology [II.A.3], and material culture [II.G]. Other topics that could be significandy expanded are: three of die annual cycles (climatic, environmental, and economic) [II.C.1,2,3], three aspects of recreation (sports, games, and body painting) [II.F.1,2,5], me NUMBER 33 daily cycle [II.E], socialization [III.A], and psychological aspects [I I LB]. [In.3.a] PART I: THE FIELD SITUATION have had to be left out of even this expansion of die acknowledgment section, but my principal benefactors in Maranhao are included here, and I hope tiiey feel my deep gratitude bodi for their help and for tiieir friendship. This monograph consists of five parts, an epilogue, and six appendices (see "Reference Strategy" [In.4.a]). Part I: "The Field Situation" provides a view of the fieldwork practices and exposures. The first chapter [I.A], "General Characteristics" starts with a description of the tribe to provide a background for understanding my experiences whde living among the Canela. This is followed by a report on my daily activities,as a structure for presenting some typical field involvements and experi­ ences. "Early Acceptance Experiences" [I.B] focuses on the more obvious and most difficult field adaptation problems, and as such should especially interest students. "Problem-solving in the Field" [I.C] presents die relative advantages and disadvantages of the fieldwork conditions, which were more pleasant than with most tribes. However, the relatively large populations of the Canela and Apanyekra, their deficit economies with tiieir moderate endemic hunger, and dieir contact of over 100 years with coastal cities and tiieir resulting awareness of city prices made fieldwork more difficult than witii many other Brazilian tribes. Moreover, tiieir tradition for "begging," their aggressive attitude against property retention, and their great expectations of die ethnolo­ gist because of Nimuendajii's past largess created furdier difficulties. "Field Equipment" [I.D] provides information of obvious utility to other fieldworkers. This chapter furnishes a history of what was technologically available to ethnologists over a period of more man two decades. "Learning the Canela Language" [I.E] is a personal narrative, because learning the language was my special pleasure and pastime and of great advantage in establishing rapport and communication with the Canela. In contrast, it had not been undertaken seriously by other Timbira ethnologists. Moreover, I had the collaboration of a SIL missionary-linguist in the 1970s. The more technical linguistic information is in Appendix 4. "Diaries and Tapes" [I.F] represents an enormous investment of my personal time and energy but supplies a wealth of material for future analysis [Ap.3.a]. "Special Research Assistants" [I.G] is the most complete account of my fieldwork techniques, and should be of interest to scholars and students. "Special Friends in the State of Maranhao" [I.H] addresses the difficulty of thanking so many field colleagues with whom I collaborated over a period of 22 years. In this chapter I am acknowledging tiieir help, as well as describing the field situation. Of course, many individuals to whom I am indebted [In.3.b] PART II: ETHNOGRAPHIC BACKGROUND This part presents ethnographic data that are intrinsically important, but which are not the principal focus of this monograph. Thus, these materials are presented here in what is primarily a descriptive manner to provide background informa­ tion. These background materials are arranged in tiiree phases: (1) ecological context-oriented: the linguistic, demographic, geo­ graphic, historical, and acculturative contexts; (2) natural and cultural cycle-organized: the climatic, environmental, eco­ nomic, ceremonial, life, and daily cycles, and (3) expressive and material culture-focused: recreational, musical, athletic, body decorative, and material culture. The first portion of the first chapter [ILA],deals with general ecology, and the position of the Canela among their related language families—the Eastern Timbira, Timbira, and North­ ern, Central, and Southern Ge (Maps 1 and 4). After a small section on demography (Ge population numbers), the rest of die chapter deals with the environmental and social contexts of die tribe. The second chapter, "Diachronic Context," [I LB] is crucial for understanding the Canela's present condition, as seen by examining its past. The first section, "Indigenous Accounts," starts with accounts of the earliest tribal contacts. It is followed by pacification in 1814 and ends with the time of Nimuendaju in 1929. These events continue the sequence of mythological stages recorded in part of "Oral History and Cosmology" [IV.C.l.b]. The second section, "Acculturation," continues the narrative from 1929 through 1979 widi historical facts and data collected in the field. (The Epilogue continues certain threads of the narrative through 1989.) While relatively long, this chapter is still only a summary account of the available materials and constitutes overview coverage for the planned monograph on changes and conservatism [Pr.l][II.B]. The final section is a limited history of the municipio (city and county: township) of Barra do Corda in which both tribes live. It is included here to explain a principal part of the external sociocultural context of the Canela. The third chapter [II.C] is on the four annual cycles— climatic, environmental, economic, and ceremonial. It fur­ nishes several of die critical contexts for understanding the timing of events, and their maintenance of the Canela sociocultural system. For the climatic cycle (Table l),the data are limited. The environmental cycle (Table 2) is similarly limited. Additional and more developed and extensive material can be found in "The Eastern Timbira" (Nimuendaju, 1946:1- SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 2,37-76). The economic cycle is presented in a more complete manner (Table 3) and is closely related to certain important acculturation problems. The ceremonial cycle constitutes an overview of the chapter on festivals [IVA] and is presented at this early stage to provide an appreciation of the great scope and nature of die festival system. The fourth chapter [II.D] focuses on female and male life cycles, a furdier narrowing of the scope of the background materials being presented: (1) from the general to the particular, (2) from what is external to the tribe to what is internal, and (3) from me impersonal forces of ecology and history to a closer study of the female and male individuals through depicting tiieir cultural cycles. This chapter also includes a description of die rites of passage (Table 5). Thus "Life Cycles" serves as a preparation for understanding and appreciating subsequent discussions regarding socialization, social and ceremonial units, marriage, tribal festivals, and individual rites. "Daily Cycle," the fifth chapter [II.E], presents die ongoing events (dady activities (Table 7) and expressive culture) of the Canela way of life. This chapter includes the various divisions of the day (Table 6) and how die Canela refer to past and future days (Figure 12). It also provides information on the tiiree daily social dancing sessions, on the work period, and on the afternoon log races and track events, as well as on die two daily council meetings. The relative importance given to work, pleasure, and social relationships becomes evident dirough this material. It is here that the Canela may come alive for the reader. The sixtii chapter, "Recreation" [H.F], furnishes more material on daily activities and additional material on expres­ sive culture. It includes music, sports, games, and body painting. Choral singing (their primary musical form) plays a large role as a daily recreational event. Singing is done in the context of a festival only about one tenth of the time, and even then it is usually more secular than sacred. Extensive choral and individual singing are recorded on tape [Ap.2.d.(l)] and would be useful to ethnomusicologists [Ap.3.e]. The section, "Sports," includes log racing, certain track events, and archery. Children's games, as a category outside of sports, are quite limited. Body painting occurs as a daily practice far more often than as a ceremonial one. The last chapter [II.G],is concerned witii the material artifact collection (Table 8), which is quite extensive [Ap.2.a] [Ap.3.g]. Although many individual artifacts are botii ceremonial and used on a daily basis, it is convenient to deal with them in one chapter. [In.3.c] PART III: SOCIAL ORGANIZATION The first chapter [I I LA], a study on socialization, was carried out in the late 1950s (including 1960). A contrasting view of socialization in the 1970s is provided, as well as significant changes affecting socialization that took place much earlier in the 20th century as a result of culture contact. At the end of the chapter, the focus is on ethno-ideology and die growth stages through which (Table 9) the individual passes. No monograph on socialization is planned in die 8-volume series, although a study and analysis of die 120,000 feet of 16 mm film [Ap.3.11]1 would be useful in a study of this subject. The second chapter [III.B], on psychological aspects and behavioral orientations, follows the chapter on socialization. Adult behavioral matters are partly a result of specific kinds of socialization, though the relationship constitutes a two-way process. These Canela value-laden orientations and behaviors are presented as polarities, such as individuality within solidarity, the "little good" with the "little evil," generosity versus stinginess, and die inner against die outer or "we" against "they." The abundant data from the manuscript and tape diaries [Ap.3.a],and the 16 mm film sound-track translations of conversations on socialization [Ap.3.d], constitute significant additional materials not elaborated in this monograph. The third chapter [I I I.C] delineates, differentiates, and defines almost all the various social and ceremonial groups (e.g., moieties, age-sets, men's societies, rituals owned by families) that comprise the Canela sociocultural system and make social and ceremonial life so complex. Again, no attempt has been made to separate what is social from what is ceremonial. The various socioceremonial units presented here are also discussed in subsequent chapters. Once die various socioceremonial units are identified and defined, die next step is to discuss how diey operate. The fourdi chapter [OLD] describes the Canela political system, including die chieftainship, die council of elders, and the judicial system. The operation of these socioceremonial groups demonstrates social organization at the macro level. Politics is the most difficult subject for any researcher to probe without a fluent knowledge of the language, including the ability to collect information through simply overhearing native discussions and debates [III.D.l.g.(l).(c)]. Since personal aggression and the assumption of positions of superiority are considered evil by the Canela, political activities are carried out in a very subdued way. No one must let it appear that he is running for office or behaving in a political manner, that is, he must avoid die appearance of directing and maneuvering other individuals into positions that may or may not be advantageous for diem. Consequently, relatively little material was collected on die chieftainship. Most of the data on the council of elders (taped meetings) and the judicial system (taped hearings) are on tape in the Canela language, sdll untranslated [Ap.3.c]. Therefore, their exposition will have to wait until a great deal of time has been spent on translating the tapes [Pr.l] [Ap.2.d.(2)] [Ap.3.b]). Because none of the planned monographs will be on die political system, as much material as possible is included here. Following the macro elements of social organization come the micro ones: kinship (Table 10) and other relationship systems [III.E], and marriage [III.F], the more informal and NUMBER 33 personal social structures. Extensive data have been collected, both qualitative and quantitative, for the kinship and other relationship systems. Some of these data have already been published (W. Crocker, 1977,1979). This chapter includes the following sections on terminological relationship systems: consanguineal (Table 11), affinal (Figure 28), name-set transmission, Formal Friendship, Informal Friendship, mortu­ ary, teknonymy, co-father, and ceremonial. Data on marriage were previously published (W. Crocker, 1984a:63-98). The same and additional data are supplied here so that the materials in this chapter are nearly exhaustive, but also include a number of ^lustrations on "blood" etiino- ideology (Figures 38-44). [In.3.d] PART IV: CEREMONIAL AND BELIEF SYSTEMS In the broadest sense, all the material here is related in some way to religion. Ceremonialism (tribal festivals and individual rites) constitutes the dramatic and behavioral side. In contrast, belief systems comprise religion's more ideational side: other-time-projected myths (oral history), other-place- projected mytiis (cosmology), and direcdy practiced concepts (shamanism, pollutions, shamanic practices). The "Festival System" [IVA] is the macro element in the sector of ceremonialism, and "Individual Rites" [IV.B] is die complementary micro element. Festivals (Table 4) are held for die entire society, whde individual rites are staged for just one person and are put on by her or his kindred. There are two kinds of festivals: the annual cycle festivals and die great dry season We?te festivals, one of which is put on every year. There are two foci in "Individual Rites"; one is on the rites themselves, rather than on the roles individuals play in them, which is stressed in the chapter "Life Cycles" [II.D]. Thus, while "Life Cycles" gives a quick portrayal of materials to provide orientation and comprehension for following chapters, "Individual Rites" furnishes the descriptive detail needed for comparative studies. The second focus is on die contribution these rites make to reinforcing the sociocultural context. These individual rites follow each other sequentially from birtii through death. They do not, however, constitute all the "rites of passage," taken in die traditional sense, encountered by die individual as she or he grows old. Some of the tribal festivals, such as die Kheetuwaye and Pepye, must be considered traditional rites of passage, though they are put on by the tribe rather than by the individual's kindred. Some individual rites are related to marriage and so are better described as part of a sequence in "Marriage." There are two chapters on the ideational aspects of religion. Otiier-dimension-projected beliefs, "Oral History and Cosmol­ ogy," [IVC] comes first, as it is large in scale; while the chapter on directly practiced beliefs, "Shamanism,Pollution, Medicine, Affirmations,Transformations" [IVD], follows, as it is smaller in scale. The oral history (other-time-projected) and cosmology (other-place-projected) chapter is also divided into these two parts. Rather than being based on die entire collection of myths and war stories, it is a native etiinohistory reconstructed by Canela research assistants themselves. The sequence starts at the Canela beginning with die stories of Sun and Moon, passes through the cosmology and festival "gathering" period of tribal travels, and ends with the pacification of the Canela. The continuation of this "history" of the Canela is found in the section on indigenous accounts [II.B.l]. The directly practiced beliefs found in the fourth chapter are related to shamanism, witchcraft, ghosts, pollutions, food and sex restrictions, medicines, ethnobiology, psychic abilities, self-transformations, breathing strength into substances or people, and gaining strength through singing "strong" [IV.D] words. Materials collected on tiiese topics are extensive and are closely related to individual rites. The eventual plan is to publish these two kinds of materials in one monograph [Pr.l] [IVB,D]. [In.3.e] PART V: CANELA STRUCTURAL PATTERNS This part starts with the "native's view" approach, a kind of "edinoscientific structuralism," which is pervasive throughout most of the various Canela sociocultural sectors. The various kinds of dualities and triads identified are categorized on die basis of Canela expressions that may be related to their thought patterns. The two chapters of Part V come partly from a previously published article (W. Crocker, 1983). The plan is to present this material [V.B] in greater depth later [Pr.l]. This structuralism is edinoscientific, having evolved dirough extensive work with research assistants in the field and representing what they see. Inarticulatable traditional patterns were made articulate and tiien were applied to, or found in, many sociocultural sectors. The resulting Canela "dualism" (Glossary) is both complementary and oppositional. Culturally paired items are seen to be in either a faciliting or in an oppositional relationship with each other. Combinations of these paired items constitute triads, some of which are fixed, while others are modifying, and stiU others are generating. It is dirough the amelioration of the stresses in transformational triads that the Canela see some cultural problems as being mediated or resolved. This structuring, or pairing, is supported by specific Canela expressions: aype'n kate, two items related as a pair, in either a complementary or an oppositional manner; ipiprol, two paired items related in complementarity (in parallel); aype'n kunda ma, two paired items related in opposition, or, in this case, standing opposite and facing each otiier. This approach may constitute a step toward a different kind of structuralism. SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY [In.3.f] EPILOGUE: THE CANELA IN THE 1980s The missionary-linguist Jack Popjes (Figure 11) and his wife Jo (Summer Institute of Linguistics) arranged for collecting and sending a considerable body of data on the Canela during the 1980s [Pr.3]. The Epilogue consists of information mostly from their materials. Selecting what is reliable and significant is a problem, so I have chosen to stress political and demographic changes. [Ln.3.g] APPENDICES The first appendix, "Ten Field Trips to die Canela Over 22 Years," describes the many trips to Brazil, the conditions under which tiiey were made, and the general study topics undertaken on each trip. Appendix 2, "Canela and Apanyekra Collections at die Smitiisonian Institution," is a quantitative list of material artifacts, products of photography, tapes made in the field, and die various kinds of data written on paper. Appendix 3, " Primary Materials for Future Studies," is a descriptive report on the Canela primary data collections, such as the material artifacts, me diaries and tapes, and the various photographic and tape collections. Appendix 4, "Linguistic Notes," has linguistic materials that were too complicated to include in the Linguistic Key or "Learning the Canela Language" [I.E]. Appendix 5, "Concept of 'Today,'" describes the compli­ cated Canela concept of dieir 36-hour day. Appendix 6, "Sources of Data," describes the derivation of data from such sources as daily notes and observations, research assistant council meetings, backland community visits, Indian service agents, library sources, researcher's memory. [In.4] Definitions and Editorial Decisions [ln.4.a] REFERENCE STRATEGY Rather than constructing die traditional index of names and subjects, and to avoid the technological publishing difficulties of supplying a myriad of page references widiin the text, a reference system has been devised to help the reader locate desired material within this monograph: the Reference Outline, which reflects all levels of headings by alphanumeric designa­ tions. The scope of die Glossary has also been enlarged from a list of definitions to an additional reference system by supplying the appropriate reference codes. Context references in the Glossary and cross-references in die text are accomplished by providing, in brackets, the alphanumeric designation of the heading for the pertinent material. The alphanumeric designations precede the headings within the text and also in the hierarchical listing of the headings in die Reference Outline. The order of elements in die code employed in diese designations is as follows: A citation of a heading within one of the five main parts of the book begins with a capital Roman numeral (I-V), which identifies the part. Next, the relevant chapter is identified by a capital Roman letter, and a major section of the chapter by an Arabic numeral. Successive subdivisions involve lower case Roman letters, Arabic numerals in parentiieses, and lower case Roman letters in parentheses. If the citation is to a heading widiin one of die supporting sections of the book (Foreword, Preface, Introduc­ tion, Epilogue, or Appendices), it begins witii a two letter abbreviation: Fo, Pr, In, Ep, or Ap. The largest division of one of these sections is marked with an Arabic numeral. Succes­ sively smaller subdivisions are indicated in the same manner as those in chapters in the main part of the text: lower case Roman letters, Arabic numerals in parentheses, and lower case Roman letters in parentheses. For instance, if I want to refer in a certain place in die text to die discussion of how the Canela were chosen as my tribe for field research, I insert the code [Pr.2]. A reference to how a mother chooses co-fathers for her fetus is made by inserting [II.D.2.h.(l).(a)] in the text. If I want to refer the reader to the discussions on die male roles of both hunting and farming, which have the same code except for the final numerical designation [II.D.3.i.(6),(7)] a comma is used to designate die final, dissimilar parts of otherwise identical designations. Two less similar codes, representing female and male loss of virginity, for instance, are also separated by a comma if placed in die same brackets for comparison: [II.D.2.a,3.c]. If I want to refer specifically to material in one of the higher headings and not to the material in its subheadings, which may be a whole section of a chapter, I put the last number or letter of the code in italics. For instance, a discussion of Canela activities that provide opportunities for emotional outlets to relieve frustra­ tions is designated by a chapter heading [II.F], and the most complete information on wet- and dry-headedness is under a section heading [I I I.C. 7]. Because headings provide the key to the internal reference system, tiiey must adequately, but briefly, represent die material they cover. Thus, the headings in the Reference Outline are expanded (after the colon) to indicate the extent of die ideas covered. Recognizing that frequent insertion of reference codes in the text may interrupt the reading process, I have depended heavily on die utility of the Glossary to reduce die instance of such codes. Any term or concept included in die Glossary is cross-referenced in the text at its first mention or when it is crucial to understanding die discussion at hand. References to material external to me monograph are made in the traditional way: author, year, and page number are placed in the text in parentheses (Da Matta, 1982:64) and die full bibliographic information appears in the Literature Cited. NUMBER 33 [In.4.b] DEFINING THE CANELA, RAMKOKAMEKRA, AND APANYEKRA The term "Canela" has been used in die literature for three closely related tribes (Map 4). Moving from west to east, there were the Kenkateye, me Apanyekra, and die Ramkokamekra. In 1913 the Kenkateye were dispersed by an attack from local ranchers, who killed most of the adult males [II.B.l.d.(2)]. Consequently, only the Apanyekra and Ramkokamekra still exist of the original three Canela tribes. In Barra do Corda, as wed as among certain Brazilian ethnologists who have contact with these tribes, the practice of calling the Ramkokamekra-Canela the "Canela" and me Apanyekra-Canela the "Apanyekra" is followed. If an outsider asks a Ramkokamekra what nation she or he belongs to, the answer will be sou Canela (I am a Canela), and if a person asks die same question of an Apanyekra Indian, the answer will be sou Apanyekra (I am an Apanyekra). The Indian service usually spells the term "Canela" or "Kanela." Nimuendaju used a double "1" (i.e., Canella), which was the earlier official spelling in Portuguese. I use the modern Brazilian spelling, "Canela." "Ramcocamecra" is used in Murdock's (1967) Ethnographic Atlas, and "Capiekran" is used by Ribeiro (1815,1819a,b) for die Ramkokamekra of die early 19th century. Nimuendaju (1946) used stress marks, reverse cedillas, macrons, and otiier diacritics in the orthogra­ phy of these three tribes, but tiiese marks have been dropped in die general usage of these words and in this book. This also was done because stress in Canela is governed at a higher level than die single word. [In.4.c] DEFINING THE NON-INDIAN POPULATIONS is merely a statement of cultural fact (i.e., a major cultural difference) of living in a tribal state. The Canela accept this term. Similarly, the term "Brazilian" is used as a cultural term. While there are significant regional cultural diversities through­ out Brazil and among social classes, tiiese diversities are minor when contrasted widi the great cultural differences between Brazilians and tribal Indians. Nimuendaju (1946) used "Neo- Brazilian" to designate the interior populations of Old World origin that replaced the legitimate (legitimo, as the Canela say) Brazilian, i.e., the Indian. "Neo-Brazilian" is not employed in this book because it is not used by Brazilian ethnologists today, and because it has negative connotations. The term I prefer for the interior, rural, non-urbanized Brazilian folk of the municipio of Barra do Corda is "backlander" [ILA.4.d.(l)]. This is the term used in the translation of the Brazilian classic, Os Sertoes, by Euclides da Cunha (1973). Thus, "backland" or "backlanders" designates die farming or cattle-ranching folk of the interior who live around the Canela and the Apanyekra villages (Map 3) [II.B.4]. The residents of Barra do Corda are referred to as "residents," or as "small-city people" or "townspeople" [II.B]. Individuals who live in the large cities of Brazil (including die state capitals, Brasilia, and otiier large urban centers) and educated foreigners are referred to as large-city people. The term "urban" is used for either small or large-city dwellers. The term "backlander" is particularly appropriate because the rural culture that was typical of the states of Northeastern Brazil, and particularly Ceara, extended into the Barra do Corda area. Culturally, the folk region around Barra do Corda in die late 1950s was more Northeastern than Amazonian. By the late 1970s, such cultural differences were harder to distinguish. A distinction must be made between the folk population who live around the Canela Indians in the interior and die townspeople of Barra do Corda [Il.d]. Another distinction must be made for highly educated people living in big cities of Brazil (or educated urban foreigners), who happen to visit Barra do Corda or stay with the Canela Indians for some time. The Canela make these three distinctions [III.D.l.c.(3).(a)], and two of them are also made by die Kraho Indians according to J. Melatti (1967:143). Near where the Canela live, two Portuguese expressions are used by die interior people to contrast themselves with the Indians: cristdo (Christian) and civilizado (civilized person). The people of the interior refer to the Canela and Apanyekra as indios (Indians) or cabocos1 (i.e., people of lesser status). These terms were socially self-elevating for the interior folk and depreciative and condescending for the Indians, though they were accepted by the Canela and die Apanyekra [II.B.3.e]. The terms civilizado and indio are used here primarily in the context of the Awkhee acculturation myth, where their negative connotations are pertinent [II.B.2.f.(l)] [IVC.l.b.(6)]. "Indian" [In.4.d] DEFINING THE RESEARCH ASSISTANT The term "informant" carries a pejorative connotation. Consequently, it is preferable and certainly more respectful to use the expression "research assistant." In any case, when certain individuals work for an ethnologist for a period of two years or more, they are not just informants; they have become research assistants. Rather than discriminate between individu­ als who answered only an occasional few questions and those who spent hundreds of hours over a number of years facilitating the collection of field data, the expression "research assistant" is used here for every Canela and Apanyekra individual who gave any significant help to this research effort. [In.4.e] USE OF CANELA NAMES TO PROTECT PRIVACY The Canela are known to each otiier by both tiieir Portuguese and Canela names. The Canela and Apanyekra are known to 8 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY backlanders, Barra do Corda residents, and local Indian service agents almost entirely through their Portuguese names, which often include surnames as well as Christian ones. Thus, using the individual's Canela name, instead of her or his Portuguese name, constitutes considerable protection of privacy. When I have to make negative comments about individuals to Ulustrate a point of discussion, they are anonymous. However, Canela and Apanyekra customarily refer to their chiefs of die last century and die first part of die 20th century by their Portuguese names rather man by their Canela ones: Major Delfino instead of K6?kaypo. This practice is sometimes followed here when tiiese individuals and their immediate descendants are de­ ceased. There is anotiier aspect of concealment when using Canela names. Sometimes individuals change tiieir public name from one of their name-set names to another. Moreover, there are circumstances under which an individual can assume the possession of a partially or entirely different name-set and use one of die names in the new name-set [III.E.4.f] [IVA.3.e.(3)]. Thus, just because a certain individual is identified by a particular name in this volume does not guarantee that she or he will be known by the same name 20 years from now. However, their Portuguese names do not change during their lifetimes. [In.4.f] REFERENCES TO HELD STUDIES of certain Canela words and expressions into English are very important for comprehending and appreciating the text. Thus, the Canela phrase is followed by die roughly equivalent words in the same order in English, so that each element of the phrase being translated can be easily identified. When the literal translation is unclear, a second freer translation follows (e.g., Wa ite mad kuran: I past-tense-indicator emu kill: I killed a South American ostrich [a rhea or ema]). The use of spaces and hyphens between die same Canela terms varies to express different purposes. Terms may be separated for translation but combined without spaces or hyphens in the text. Terms in Table 8 often vary in this way from those in the text to preserve the form of the earlier presentations of lists of artifacts to various institutions. A text with many terms in the native language hinders comprehension. Consequently, English equivalents are used wherever possible, including translations. This cannot be done for vernacular botanical or zoological terms that do not have English equivalences such as "buriti" and "paca" (a small rodent), so these terms and their descriptions are presented in roman type. Canela words for which no English or Portuguese translations exist and to which reference must be frequendy made are retained here in Canela, such as the We?te girl (a role of ceremonial high honor) and the Pro-khamma (the festival-governing age-set in the council of elders). References made to particular "studies" that took place at specific periods between 1957 and 1979 are referred to as studies in "the late 1950s" (which includes 1960 for practical purposes, unless otherwise stated), and "the 1970s" (which includes 1969). For instance, references are made to the socialization study of the late 1950s, the marriage study of 1970, and to the key words and concepts study of 1979. My fieldwork visits are grouped in these ways. It should be noted that these studies do not directly correlate with the inclusive dates of any one of my 10 field trips. [In.4.g] ITALICIZATIONAND CAPITALIZATION OF TERMS Zoological and botanical names in Portuguese that have no translations in English are not italicized. If the initial letter of a Canela term, such as Tamhak, is capitalized, the word is not put in italics. Descriptive terms, such as "me commandant" of the troop of novices, are not capitalized. When, however, such terms as "Upper" and "Lower" age-set moieties are referred to by the capitalized terms "Upper" and "Lower," it is understood that tiiese words form part of tiieir proper names [III.C J ] . [In.4.h] TRANSLATION OF CANELA TERMS The Canela orthography used here [In.5] [Ap.4.c] is entirely phonemic, except where intended not to be. Careful translations [In.4.i] "UNCLES" INSTEAD OF "MOTHERS1 BROTHERS" The frequent use of the terms "fathers' sisters" and "mothers' brothers" is clumsy. "Aunts" and "uncles" are used here instead, without quotation marks; but it must be understood diat mothers' sisters and fatiiers' brotiiers are not being included in these terms. These latter categories are "mothers" and "fathers" as understood in the Crow or Canela terminologi­ cal systems. Moreover, the terms aunt and uncle (Glossary) are used here in a more general sense to include any of the kintypes in the kin categories of tuy and kit, such as grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and certain cousins. The reciprocals, niece and nephew, are used in the same way. When a precise kintype (Glossary) (Scheffler and Lounsbury, 1971:2) is meant, it is used, such as father's sister or mother's brother. When such a term is used in quotation marks its classificatory sense is meant. A mother's "brother" means any of ego's mother's relatives tiiat she calls "brodier" but not her uterine brother. (For a discussion of kinship, see [III.E.2,3].) It is important to note that because persons other than tiiose in the kin category (Glossary) of "uncle" often carry out an uncle's social or ceremonial role for ego, especially when this individual's kin category uncles are far away or nonexistent, this term often includes persons not in this kin category at all, such as fathers or "out"-brothers-in-law [III.E.3.a.(2)]. Thus, "uncle" refers to a traditional role. NUMBER 33 [InAj] USE OF GENDER PRONOUNS Most tribes are matrilocal/uxorilocal (Canela and the Ge) or patrilocal/virilocal (most of the northwestern Amazon), though there are other arrangements. It seems appropriate, therefore, that pronoun references to tribes that are distinctly matrilocal/ uxorilocal have feminine pronouns placed first and masculine ones afterward (she/he) and tribes that are patrilocal/virilocal have the masculine gender positioned first (he/she). [In.4.k] DEFINING THE "INDIAN SERVICE' Anthropologists have maintained close relationships with the Brazilian personnel of the National Foundation of die Indian (FUNAI: Fundacao Nacional do Indio) since 1968, and with the Indian Protection Service (SPI: Servico de Protecao aos indios) personnel before tiien. For simplicity, neidier of tiiese services is mentioned by name or by acronym except when an unusually positive contribution deserves recognition. The expression "Indian service" is what North Americans easily understand. In order to make me reference more generic, the word "service" is used here with its initial "s" not capitalized. [In.5] Linguistic Key SEMIVOWELS When following a vowel, the semivowels (phonemes as glides) serve to complete syllable length. west, pew yes, coy The y ranges from the y in "yes" (most frequent), dirough the "n" in "new" (Y5?he: male name), to the unvoiced "s" in "sky" (-khyi: sibling), and is always palatalized. CONSONANTS Unldce in English, die phonemes /p/, /t/, and /k/ are unaspirated, whde /kh/ is aspirated. Stops Portuguese P [p,b] t [t,d] k [k,g] kh ? [glottal] pai, tabu fatu, iJeia capa, igarape ts [<*,£] Affricative ria (northern Port.) English frill dog gale &iss church VOWELS These phonemes sound approximately the same as in Portuguese. The phonemes u, 6, and o, and tiieir nasalizations, are rounded, but the other phonemes are not. Unnasalized i i e a u 6 0 English beet bit bet hurrah boot boat bought Nasalized i e a (rare) u 6 Portuguese pmto pente maracana junto ponto r [r,l] m n Fricative Lateral oral, Isabe/ (Spanish) Nasals mapa nova tome met nod gaunt These phonemes are back and unrounded. They have no Portuguese, Spanish, English, or French equivalents. For "high," "closed," "mid," "open," see Pike, 1947:5. Unnasalized H high and closed i mid and closed d mid and open (like "puddle" in English but more open) Nasalized fi high and closed a mid and open (tike canto, in Portuguese but more open) VOWEL LENGTH: There are no diphtiiongs in Canela, but vowel length is phonemic: single vowel length (katswa: night) is approxi­ mately doubled by die same foUowing vowel (kaatswa: salt). The glides (w and y) complete syllable length, standing in die place of the second vowel (Kawkhre: male name; -mpey-ti: beautiful/good-very). Consonants also complete this same syllable length (PaPpccm: God; Kaape/tiU: male name; /hapak/ [happak]: ear), which is roughly equal to double vowel length. 10 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY WORD STRESS Stress almost always falls on the last syllable of isolated words but is not phonemic. Stress is altered and determined at die phrase level ratiier than at the word level. The acute accent (') over a vowel will only be used to indicate stress, whenever necessary, or both die superlative and stress. NONPHONEMIC ORTHOGRAPHY All words are written phonemically except when they are intentionally written nonphonemically in order to indicate their most frequent pronounciation. In these cases, me acute accent is added to indicate stress. For instance, die word "buriti" (a palm), /krow/, is usually written krdwa because this is the way it sounds, though the terminal "a" is not phonemic and is often not expressed in sentence sequences. See Appendix 4 for a more complete description of several of die linguistic aspects outlined above. [In.6] Chronology of the Canela Sources for this chronology are Hemming (1987), Nimuen­ daju (1946), F. Ribeiro (1815, 1819a, 1819b), several Indian service agents (especially Olfmpio Cruz) and Olimpio Fialho, historian at Barra do Corda, die missionary-linguists Jack and Josephine Popjes, and, most signficantly, the Canela and Apanyekra research assistants (especially die older Miikhro). Event First contacts with Brazilian military detachments Bypassed by pioneer fronts moving south of homelands across Maranhao from me Parnaiba to the Tocantins Defeated in batde by the Cakamekra Pacification; accepted protection of Brazilian garrison at Pastos Bons Fled protection at Caxias because of smallpox and returned to homelands Hid by a spring in an Alpercatas range valley (Vao da Serra), and were peacefully brought out of hiding by the military Settled at the Porcos stream entrance to me Corda River and experienced miscegenation Chief Luis Domingo Kawkhre assumed leadership, die first chief to be ap­ pointed by backland political authori­ ties Date ca. ca. ca. 1710 1810 1814 1814 1816 1818 ca.1820-1835 ca.1835-1845 Summoned by the local Brazilian authori- 1839-1840 ties to fight in the Balaiada wars against the Brazilian Cabanagem Re­ bellion-related uprising in the back- lands Summoned by the local Brazilian authori- ca. 1850 ties to fight against the Gamella Indians Ze Cadete Palkhre became chief ca. 1870 Experienced relative affluence under ca. 1894-1903 Chiefs Coronel Tomasinho and Major Delfino K6?kaypo in the Es­ calvado villages Boys sent to study in the convent in Barra ca. 1898-1901 do Corda Allowed the Cakamekra to join their tribe 1900 Summoned by Barra do Corda authorities 1901 to fight against the Guajajara uprising at Alto Alegre Graduated the age-set of Kha?po in an ca. 1903 Escalvado village Tried and executed Francelino Kaawuy 1903 for a witchcraft murder Split their tribe after the execution and 1903 relocated die two parts away from the Santo Estevao stream Experienced times of economic insuffi- ca. 1903-1922 ciency while away from the Santo Estevao stream and its better gallery forests Graduated the age-set of the older ca. 1913 Miikhro Intimidated by the ranchers' massacre of 1913 the Kenkateye-Canela Joined the two parts of the tribe, ending 1913 die schism Suffered the great drought and consequent 1915 hunger Returned to die Santo Estevao stream and ca. 1922 relative economic self-sufficiency Graduated die age-set of the younger ca. 1923 Ropkha and ended the practice of age-set ceremonial marriage Received die six visits of Curt Nimuen- 1929-1936 daju Graduated the age-set of die older Kaapel- 1933 tuk and moved from Ponto to Baix3o Preto Suffered smallpox, the death of the older 1935 Ropkha (Faustino), the new schism in the tribe, and die move away from the Santo Estevao stream and from rela­ tive economic self-reliance NUMBER 33 Mended their tribal schism by allowing Nimuendaju to rejoin the two parts of die tribe at die Raposa stream Accepted the arrival of the first Indian service agent (Castello Branco) with his family to live next to the Canela vUlage Ceased to practice the uncle-nephew plaza hazing ceremony and the custom of childless women sleeping in the plaza with men Moved back to Ponto and the Santo EstevSo stream and returned to rela­ tive economic self-sufficiency Benefited from die protection of die great Indian service agent Olimpio Martins Cruz; last period of economic self sufficiency Graduated the age-set of Chief Kaara?khre Learned from die Indian service school teacher Dona Nazare, who taught six youths to write Sent the younger Kaapeltuk and Hakha.as students, to live with the Indian service in Sao Luis Graduated the age-set of die younger Kaapeltuk Lost the last strong chief, Doroteo _ Haktookot, and began die era of Chief Kaara?khre Divided the tribe into the villages of old Ponto and Rodeador Divided die tribe into the villages of Baixao Preto and die new Ponto Were dismayed by die termination of the Indian service's policy of providing extensive goods and thereby recog­ nized the end of their mythical accul­ turation contract set up by the culture hero Awkhee Received die first visit of ethnologist William Crocker Graduated the age-set of Koham Transferred the power of the Pro- khamma to die age-set of die older Kaapeltuk Suffered from the messianic movement of Khee-khwey, die massive attack of backland ranchers, and die forced relocation to the dry forests of Sar- dinha where they did not adjust ecologically or psychologically 1936 1938 1938 1939 1940-1947 1941 1944-1948 1949-1950 1951 1951 ca. 1952-1954 1955 1955 1957 1961 1961 1963 Men shamed by Guajajara women into wearing clothing all the time, and both sexes learned to make traditional artifacts for external sale Experienced die anti-alcoholic "conver­ sion" of Chief Kaara?khre Received training; three students of Dona Nazare began writing diary manu­ scripts Formed temporarily four competing cer­ rado villages in the Campestre, Escal­ vado, Ponto, and Baixao Preto areas Received the SIL missionary-linguist Jack Popjes, with his long-range commu­ nity development program Returned officially to their cerrado home­ lands Rejoined die five tribal segments in the Sardinha, Campestre, Ponto, Baixao Preto, and Escalvado areas in die present large Escalvado village Construction of a road bridge at Ourives (halfway point) to enable army ve­ hicles to move directly into die Canela region to protect the Canela position after their return to their homelands Received die Indian service agent Se- bastiao Ferreira Construction of three "permanent" large Indian service buildings in Escal­ vado: post, school house, and infir­ mary Began high population growth after near elimination of endemic infant and childhood dysentery Rejoiced in die apparent demarcation of their lands (legal in 1978) Completion of the direct road from Barra do Corda to their Escalvado village Graduated the age-set of Koyapaa Installation of a gasoline generator for electricity at the post buildings, which supplied light and two-way radio transmission to summon aid Converted by Indian service agent to a belief in pharmacy medicine to cure and nearly eradicate tuberculosis Experienced first divorce in which chil­ dren were involved that was granted by die service and the tribal council Completion of a truck road from Escal­ vado to the village of Porquinhos of the Apanyekra 11 1963-1966 1964 1964 1966-1968 1968 1968 1968 1969 1970 ca. 1970-1974 1970-1974 1971 1971 1972 ca. 1973 ca. 1974 1975 12 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY Served by an effective Indian service 1978 team: the agent Sebastiao Ferreira, the teacher Risalva Freire de Sa, and die nurse Luzanira Gieira de Araojo Influenced by an Indian-self-conscious- 1978 ness and human-rights-oriented In­ dian service official in Barra do Corda Final departure of etiinologist William 1979 Crocker and the termination of the diary manuscript and tape program Transmitted the power of die Pro- ca. 1981 khamma to the age-set of the youn­ ger Kaapeltuk Installation of an Indian service store for ca. 1981 buying material artifacts for resale in outlets throughout Brazd, facilitated self-sufficiency Deposition of Chief Kaara?khre by the ca. 1981-1987 new Pro-khamma age-set of the younger Kaapeltuk and his replace­ ment by six new chiefs in succession due to political instability Benefited by an extensive farm project in 1986 the Pak-re area, under the leadership of me younger Kaapeltuk and fi­ nanced by Rio Doce project funds Split into five communities (total popula- 1986 tion about 800) with Escalvado hav­ ing no leader and being almost abandoned, Pak-re having die largest number (-250) under die younger Kaapeltuk, Dois Riachos having an appreciable number under die de­ posed Chief Kaara?khre, Campestre having few in number under die current chief, the youngest Mffkhro, and Os Bois having few in number under a former chief, Kroopey Benefited by the stability of having the same dedicated Indian service personnel at Escalvado since 1978, who provided truck roads averaging 15 km to reach 13 outlying farm communities (Map 3), enabling continuity of post services: leader­ ship, protection, medicine, and schooling Stabdized politically by the appointment to the chieftainship of the younger Kaapeltuk, who continues to hold this position in mid-1989 Population reached 903 (1 March 1989) according to official census and list of names made out and sent by Se­ bastiao Ferreira through Jack Popjes 1987 1987-1989 Part I: The Field Situation The field situation encompasses the state of Maranhao, not just the Canela villages. There were always Canela in Barra do Corda (Plates 2, 3), and news of anydiing I did in Sao Luis (Plate 1) was lticely to spread to Barra do Corda, especially in die 1950s and 1960s when the Canela traveled more freely. Thus I was never "off duty" until I reached Belem, Rio, or Brasilia. The usual process of getting into die field among the Canela or Apanyekra began with obtaining permissions from the Indian service and from what constituted die Brazilian National Research Council (CNPq), which had different names in different decades. (First of all, it was necessary to have a Brazilian ethnological sponsor [Eduardo Galvao] and his institution [Museu Paranese Emflio Goeldi]). The Indian service permission was obtained only twice while I was still in die United States (1971 and 1974). It was necessary on all early trips to wait in Rio de Janeiro and on later trips in Brasilia until the general in charge of the Indian service and its granting committee granted permission to work among the Indians. These waiting periods could be quite pleasant when spent visiting colleagues and friends; however, waiting could be exasperating (besides being expensive), especially when I knew I would miss a festival, as occurred in 1970. After obtaining the permissions, the next step was to return to my sponsoring organization in Belem (the Museu Goeldi), and talk over the research situation with Eduardo Galvao and otiiers. These contacts were as much social as professional. The following step varied according to die state of transportation existing at that time for traveling to the Indian vtilages. In the 1950s and 1960s, I flew commercially to Sao Luis, die capital of Maranhao state to catch the biweekly commercial flight by DC-3 or DC-4 into Barra do Corda. In the earlier years, Sao Luis was the shopping city for presents and equipment. (In 1957, my equipment went by boat to Barra do Corda [Plate Ab\). All paper, rubber bands, staplers, paper clips, etc., were bought in Brazil, as were the presents for the tribal chiefs and my Canela and Apanyekra families. Little by little the shopping possibilities in Barra do Corda grew as truck routes to the town opened (Maps 2,3). In 1969 and the mid-1970s, the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) in Belem was able to provide direct flights to Escalvado (Plate 6a) and Porquinhos through their superbly run system. Thus, the shopping city for paper, beads, etc., became Belem. As we flew over each jungle river in Para and Maranhao (Map 2), the aviator radioed to his wife at the Belem base to tell her our position. If we had gone down, tiiey would have known more or less where we were, not that they could have helped us much. Paul Marsteller, one of the SIL aviators, used to say that he could put down his light, broad-winged craft (Heliocourier) safely in the jungle canopy but that then the problems would just have begun. How would we get down to die jungle floor and how would we survive once tiiere? In 1971, I reached the Apanyekra Porquinhos landing strip from Washington, D.C., in 26 hours, with stops of about 3 hours each in Belem and Barra do Corda, a trip which must constitute some sort of record for American anthropologists traveling to Brazilian Indian villages. In 1978 and 1979, when commercial flights into Barra do Corda were sporadic, me SIL flights were banned by the government and their personnel prohibited from entering tribal territories. The regular commercial flights between Sao Luis and Barra do Corda had also stopped, having given way to more economical travel by bus (Plate 4a), which was avadable to far more people. This meant, however, that all equipment (e.g., tape recorders, cameras, tapes) left in the Goeldi Museum from trip to trip or brought from the United States for a year's stay in the field, as well as the usual supplies and presents from me coastal city, had to be fitted into the hot, dusty small bus compartments. These were open to the outside, located below die seats, and baggage was frequently retrieved for passengers entering and leaving at every stop along the way. The amount of space needed for such an expedition could not be given to one passenger. The trip lasted from 6 in the evening to 3 or 4 in the morning (Map 2), instead of the hour and 20 minutes by air from Sao Luis or the 3*/2 hours by air from Belem. For the first time since 1957, there was no flight into Barra do Corda to accommodate supplies. The alternative means of transportation were renting a small private plane (smooth and swift, and easy on equipment) from Belem in 1978 or a small open truck (jostling and slow, and hard on equipment) from S3o Luis in 1979. Once in Barra do Corda (Plates 2,3) transportation improved considerably over the years. Almost all equipment except the technical instruments and beads could be bought there inexpensively by die mid-1970s, and die road to Escalvado village became easily passable to jeeps and small trucks by 1971. Thus the grueling horse and mule trains of the late 1950s (aldiough not needed for the trips to Sardinha in the mid-1960s and avoided by die use of SIL ferrying flights between die town and the villages in 1969 and 1970) were no longer required in the mid-1970s. Transportation and logistics improved dramatically in the field situation from 1957 through 1979, but it is a question whether this was also the case with personal communication. The temptation was to move fast and save professional time which had become more precious. In the late 1950s, I spent 13 14 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY MAP 2.—The 1985 road map of Northeast Brazil to the Aragu&a River showing the Canela and Apanyekra villages (in italics and located with crosses), and the principal highways from Bahia, Pemambuco.and Ceara to Goias,Para,and Amazonia. (Note that these highways bypass the Canela and Apanyekra areas in Maranhao.) NUMBER 33 15 1985 ROAD MAP OF NORTHEASTERN BRAZIL TO THE ARAGUAIA RIVER SHOWING THE CANELA AND APANYEKRA VILLAGES ASPHALT SURFACE IMPROVED DIRT SURFACE 16 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY about a month in Rio de Janeiro, about a week each in Belem and Sao Luis, and about 10 days in Barra do Corda when entering die field and about half that time in each city when leaving. Finding these personal contacts necessary as well as enjoyable for the successful continuity of the research, I continued carrying out this slow and gratifying procedure of checking in and checking out of the field situation on each visit. Thus, I made many friends in Belem, Sao Luis, and especially Barra do Corda. Brazil had become my second country. Life became more rushed in die 1970s, however, so personal contacts became more specialized and limited, especially to Sr. Jaldo Pereira Santos and his family in Barra do Corda. [LA] General Characteristics Friends assume that when I was with the Canela those 64 monms, I was "up the Amazon." Contrary to popular images of Brazilian tribes, the Canela live in the center of Maranhao state, about 60 kilometers to the south of Barra do Corda (Map 3). They are 650 kilometers southeast of Belem (Map 2), a city at the mouth of the Amazon River, and out of the Amazon watershed entirely, enjoying grass-covered savanna country­ side (Plates 12, 13) rather than dense tropical forests. The climate is moderate, being about 300 meters above sea level and relatively dry. It is largely assumed that most Brazilian tribes "have just come out of the jungles." The Canela, however, being so far east, surrendered to a Braztiian military outpost (Pastos Bons, Map 4) in 1814 [ILB.La], when their region was being settled by pioneers pushing west from the Brazilian Northeast [II. A.3.(a).(l)]. "Backland" (Glossary) Brazilian cattle ranchers and farmers, however, have surrounded them for over 100 years. They still exist in a tribal state (speaking their own language and managing their internal affairs), because of die relative inaccessibility of their area and undesirability of their lands [II.A.3.C]. Starting in 1971 a small part of their ancestral lands, maybe 5 percent (Nimuendaju, 1946:64), was legally demarcated into a reservation [II.B.2.k.(l)], with an area of 125,212 hectares (CEDI, 1986:235) (Map 3). During the 18th century, the Canela (Ramkokamekra) ranged freely over a large area between their present lands and the Itapicuru River to the south (Map 4), limited principally by hostile tribes in all directions except to the north where die forest ecology made die terrain undesirable. This large expanse of land consisted of "closed savannas" (cerrado, see Glossary), dry woods, and gallery forests (watercourse-edge jungles) (Figures 3-6). They relied largely on hunting, gathering, and fishing, and only to a small extent (-25%) on slash-and-burn horticulture. Clearing was done with stone axes and fire, and gardens included (Table 3) white corn, sweet potatoes, yams, peanuts, squash, mildly bitter manioc, and cotton. They had to cut a new farm plot out of the wet, stream-edged undergrowth every year because the infertile soils could support only one crop. (The closed savannas support no crops.) These days, with die loss of most of their lands, more than 75 percent of their produce and livelihood is derived from slash-and-burn horticul­ ture [II.C.3.]. Moreover, they have almost forgotten gathering since it is what "wild" Indians did, they say. Instead die Canela have adopted the foods of the backlanders (including rice, yellow corn, and beans), because these foods are more prestigious. Seed for aboriginal white corn, peanuts, and cotton were lost in die 1960s while the Canela were in the dry forests of Sardinha. In earlier times, the Canela had to move their villages every 5 to 10 years to be close to their farms and to relatively unhunted and ungathered areas. Like otiier related tribes (die Nortiiern Ge in this case), their villages were, and still are, circular, with all houses facing a central, round plaza, with radial pathways connecting each house to the plaza. Social dancing, ceremonies, and council meetings, as well as great festivals, take place in the plaza. The remains of many of these wagon wheel-shaped villages (Figures 1, 2) still exist in die Canela closed savannas, but studying them is difficult, because these Indians made neither pottery nor projectile points. The Canela and related tribes are known collectively as die Timbira (Map 4) and speak a language of the Ge family [I I. A. 1,2], which is also used in various parts of central (south of the Amazon River) and southern Brazd (Map 1). [LAI] Outstanding Ethnology The Timbira tribes are especially known for their sport of log racing [II.F.2.a] (Plate 51). In the important races, two teams (Figure 13) of men each carry a heavy (about 100 kilos) log over a 3 to 10 kilometer course. When exhausted, the individual runner passes the log from his shoulder to the shoulder of die man directly behind. The Timbira are also known, Idee the Australian aborigines, for their complex social and ceremonial organization, including several sets of moieties, which is not usually found in tribes between the food collecting and producing levels. Timbira choral singing is also outstanding in die frequency with which they practice it, the complexity of its harmonic lines, and the development of most individual voices [II.F.l.c]. The Canela, in pardcular, are unusual for their strong social cohesion. Very few individuals leave the tribe permanendy to live either in other tribes or among backland or urban Brazilians. They love their way of life, which is changing only very slowly [III.D.3.f]. Small groups have gone on trek to the great coastal cities (instead of to hunt and gather locally) almost every year since some time in the last century. Thus they know about the outside world, but their traditions continue to prevail [II.A.3.a.(3)]. Holding tribal council meetings twice a day resolves most problems that could upset the cohesion of the NUMBER 33 17 tribe [II.E.8]. They dance three times a day when assembled in me village (Plates 32,33), which is most of the time, keeping me morale of the young people high [II.F.l.b(2).(a)]. The Canela kinship pattern is like Crow-type-III (Glossary) of Lounsbury (1964) [III.E.2.a], and is closely related to die wagon wheel plan of the village [III.E.2.e] (Escalvado, 1970, -300 meters in diameter to rear of houses). The tribe being matrilocal/uxorilocal (or sororilocal for women), women related to each other through all female links live in matrilaterally arranged segments or "longhouses" (Glossary) around die circular edge of the village. Sisters generally live in die same house, parallel-first cousins (Crow "sisters") gener­ ally in adjoining ones, and parallel-second cousins generally in the next houses, etc. In one case, fifth cousins (still Crow "sisters") are recognized and maintained at the extreme ends of one longhouse, or kinship arc of die village circle, over a dozen houses long (Figures 24, 25) [III.E.2.e.(2)]. Since men marry into other longhouses than the ones of birth, different longhouses relate to each otiier according to a cross-cousin pattern, which is from a certain point of view patrilateral [III.E.2.e.(3)]. Thus, village (and therefore tribal) cohesion is maintained dirough kinship botii matrilaterally around the village circle of houses (Figure 42) and "patrilaterally" across the village plaza between different longhouses (Figure 43) [III.F.12]. They forget kin ties not expressed in this village pattern—especially the ones passing mostly through male linkages—after two to three generations. Most of an individual's life cycle rites are maintained patrilaterally (in the above sense) as well as matrilaterally, though the Canela rely predominately on their matrilateral kin [IV.B]. Matrilineality exists in only a few families in a festival context [I I I.C.8]. There are no clans or marriage alliances [I I I.F.I]. Individuals marry whom they believe to be nonrela- tives or distant relatives in almost full tribal endogamy, and longhouse exogamy is only rarely violated. The sororate is encouraged to keep a man with his children while the levirate does not occur. An uxorilocal extended family house, the basic economic sharing unit (Figure 22) [III.E.2.e.(l)], seldom accepts more than one husband for its women (sisters, "sisters," and tiieir mothers) from me same across-me-plaza extended family house. Thus, the brothers-in-law, who work together in their wives' set of fields under die direction of their fadier-in-law or fathers-in-law, are seldom kin. Thus, they can bring little collective influence to bear against the members of their affinal house, which is governed by its male kin, who live in tiieir wives' houses on otiier sides of the plaza. The tribe is run by a chief (Figure 18), who is limited by a council of elders (Glossary) made up of the men in tiieir 50s and 60s and, during certain periods, their 40s and 70s [III.D.2]. The chief manages all external relations (with backlanders (Plate 72), the Indian service, and visitors, whether from otiier tribes or from cities), and is the final voice in the well- developed judicial system [III.D.3]. Unresolved cases (mostly marital) in formal hearings between extended families come before him for unquestioned resolution. The central group (Pro-khamma, Glossary, Figure 19) of the council of elders governs die festivals and most other ceremonies that are based on the plaza rather than on the house of a particular extended family. Certain plaza-based rituals are the property of particular extended families, however. When such a family line (often matrilineal) ceases or fails to carry out its duties for die good of die whole tribe, the central group of the council of elders transfers the right to hold the ritual to another extended family. The Brazilian Indian service maintained a representative in Barra do Corda as early as die 1920s, but placed a service family to live beside a Canela village only in 1938 [II.B.2.b]. From then, Canela acculturation accelerated, but this change of pace occurred only after 100 years of relative stabdity and gradual adjustment to the demands and requirements of backlanders and Barra do Corda residents. Although "pacified" in 1814, tales of research assistants indicate that the Canela were destablized and migratory due to contact conditions until about 1835 [II.B.l.b], when tiiey were led by their first leader of die modern type, Chief Kawkhre Luis Domingo [In.6]. Such leaders were politically skilled Canela individuals who were designated and recognized as chief by the local backlanders or Barra do Corda political authorities, and later by die Indian service. By 1960, the Canela saw themselves as being on the lowest rung of the social and political ladders of the Brazilian world. Their chief obeyed die resident Indian service agent (Figure 9), who obeyed the Barra do Corda agent (Figure 7), whose line of aumority proceeded up through die Maranhao state service official, through the president of the Indian service in Rio de Janeiro (or later Brasilia), to the President of Brazd. The Canela saw the order as being martial, which implied due obedience. As a result of their perceived low status, Indian service agents, backlanders, Barra do Corda residents, and some large-city people simply walked into Canela houses (Plates 6-8) uninvited. They would dominate die conversation and treat Canela house owners as lesser beings (bichos do mato: beasts of-the forest). The outsiders assumed vast superiority over the Canela, who accepted tiieir subservient position unquestion- ingly. In 1975, an enlightened Indian service representative from Brasilia addressed the Canela in their circular plaza, referring to them as gente (people). A perceptive young Canela asked if Indians were really, indeed, gente? Was not the representative mistaken? The man from Brasilia, Dr. Ney Land, tiien calmly presented the Canela with a new concept: that all human beings, including Indians, are people. Such talk could not have existed in this part of Brazil before die 1970s. Intellectuals could have expressed such ideas to each other in earlier times but not publicly, and certainly not to Indians, who were neidier civilizados (civilized people) nor cristdos (Christians). The Canela position in the old Ma­ ranhao backlands of Brazil, and their perceived position in relation to the national society, can be understood only in this context. Indian tribes further west who were being drawn into 18 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY MAP 3.—Canela and Apanyekra reservations and surrounding backlands, 1986-1987, showing the Canela's village of Escalvado (1) and its 13 farm communities (2-14) in numbered circles. (Stars in circles = formerly inhabited Canela and Apanyekra villages; circle = Apanyekra village of Porquinhos; dots = backland NUMBER 33 19 communities; shaded areas = Canela, Apanyekra, and Guajajara Indian reservations; short dashes = jeep roads; solid lines = substantial dirt roads; heavier solid lines = larger roads; italic words = rivers and streams. The only asphalted highway is BR-226 between Barra do Corda and Grajau, which appears in upper left corner.) 20 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY MAP 4.—Eastern Timbira and their neighbors, past and present. (Large shadowed tribal names without dates indicate areas foraged by the tribe in prepacification times. Dates placed under shadowed tribal names indicate the approximate years of occupation. Tribal names underlined by dashes indicate tribes that became extinct in post-pacification times. Triangles indicate the locations of villages of present tribes. Orthography of tribes, cities, and rivers reflect that of the earlier 1930s and of Nimuendajii's (1946) map 1 upon which this map is based.) NUMBER 33 21 Indian service "posts of attraction" during the 1960s and 1970s might not have had to contend with such entrenched negative attitudes. possessions. I left such matters to my families. In die 1970s, however, I added rooms onto my Western wife's Canela family's house for us. P.A.2] My Adoption by Canela Families [I.A.3] My Typical Day On my second evening with the Canela in their village of Ponto (August 1957), Chief Kaara?khre (Figure 18) presented die older Krooto to me, who said his wife wanted me as a brother, and that I was to live in their house. I obviously had to say yes or no to this invitation, and since I was standing directly before die council of elders, who were intendy watching and listening, I felt great pressure to say "yes" to please everyone. By training my first thought was not to align myself with any faction before I knew me politics of the tribe, but there seemed to be no choice in this case. Thus I said "yes" and was led to my "sister" Te?hok's house, where she and her husband Krooto gave me a corner in the sand for my equipment and clothing. Although Map 5 portrays the village of Escalvado and its Indian service post in 1975, the village of Ponto in 1957 was simtiar, although Ponto was half the size of Escalvado and had no air strip, and had fewer post buildings and facilities. Te-?hok (leg-painted) and her daughters felt some responsi­ bility for keeping me amused, so these nieces joked with me continually, as nieces can do witii tiieir uncles. In turn, I provided entertainment through Western games, pictures in books, and singing. The ice-breaker, causing them all to laugh hilariously, was for me to miss my hammock when sitting down, deliberately falling on the ground. My "nieces" loved this. Within a week matters became more normal, and because the Canela had received Nimuendaju as an ethnologist for 14 months from 1929 to 1936, I was not such a novelty. After several weeks I moved to the smaller Canela village, Baixao Preto, only 6 kilometers north of Ponto (Map 3). There I acquired a second family where the principal person was my "brother," Hawmro, with his wife, MIT-khwey (alligator- woman) being my "wife," and his daughters my "daughters." (According to Canela extended kinship reckoning these families were only distandy related.) Thus, I experienced in my daily life the two most frequent kinds of kin relationships. Among the Apanyekra, where I was adopted into a family in 1958, my prime house relative was a sister, Pootsen. (See Map 6 for a plan of the Apanyekra village of Porquinhos.) Later, when my wife Roma came to the Canela, I experienced affinal relationships first hand while living in die house of her adoptive family. My two Canela families, my Apanyekra family, and my Western wife's Canela family all provided rooms within the space of their own houses. The walls of these rooms were reinforced to protect possessions. In later years, these rooms were larger to accommodate the greater amount of my While the pattern of my research day and activities changed between 1957 and 1979, the following is a representative example of a usual day within my various house environments during my 10 stays. The day often began at about 2:30 AM when some youth came to die door of the house to cad out die names of my nieces (or daughters, depending on the home), who were supposed to go out to the plaza to sing [II.E.4.a.(l)]. Usually the girls went out, but sometimes a parent made comments about why a daughter could not emerge. ("Te?kura ?tdm" I heard often, meaning Te?kura, my niece, is menstruating.) Then, the troop of adolescents moved on to the next house on the village circle, singing, their volume alone being enough to wake anyone in me vicinity. Sometimes I went out at this time to the plaza to dance or socialize, but in later years I seldom did, except to record die morning sing-dance on tape. My rapport had been built, so it was more important to sleep so I could work efficiendy with my council of research assistants during the day. The adolescents could nap many times during die day; my schedule allowed only one brief nap. So I stuffed my wax ear plugs further in and tried to sleep some more. In my brother's house one year, however, my daughter Homyl-khwey's month-old baby resided only V/2 meters away through a palm-thatch partition in the arms of its momer, so the ear plugs offered little protection when it cried. Then, I exchanged the ear plugs for earphones and studied Canela sentences on tape. Studying vocabulary [I.E.2] in this manner was usually my first activity of the day, starting at 5:30. In later years, the tapes were stories or autobiographical accounts [IF] I had to keep up with to be sure die narrators were giving me needed information. By 5:30 the women of the house were thoroughly active and might involve me in something if I appeared to be awake, so I lay quietly in my hammock, listening to tapes, pretending to be asleep. An alternative at 5:30 was to go bathing, which was forced on me by one uncle or another in the late 1950s. Chief Kaara?khre (actually an Informal Friend) also used to summon me, saying I would live longer if I bathed early in the cold air, but nobody bothered me this way in die 1970s. I was older. Anodier alternative for about 6:00 was to go out to the tribal council meeting. I could understand most of the debating in me 1960s and 1970s. Most often, however, I stayed in my room (a well-made rectangular partition to protect my possessions) until about 7:00, studying tapes or papers in preparation for die day's work. Then, my sister (Te?hok) or my brother Hawmro's wife, MIT-khwey would call me for breakfast. In my brother's 22 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY POST INFIRMARY (BRICK AND TILE) INDIAN SERVICE POST (BRICK AND TILE) POST SCHOOL (BRICK AND TILE) INDIAN AGENT'S STORAGE (THATCH) INDIAN AGENT'S HOUSE (THATCH) HOUSE FOR BACKLANDERS (THATCH) WATER TOWER ABOVE WELL GAS GENERATOR'S HOUSE OVEN SHELTER (T ILED AND OPEN) CHIEF'S HOUSE (MUD AND THATCH) MISSIONARY'S HOUSE (MUD AND THATCH) PEPKAHAK HUT (THATCH-OPEN) MAP 5.—Escalvado village and Indian service post buildings, 1975. Pepkahak hut location and related paths are included as of 1970. The open lands are cerrado. house, we ate togetiier on mats on the earth floor of the main room. We ate with fingers and gourd bowls in 1958, but in my sister's house they were too prestige-conscious to allow me to eat on the floor, so they provided a table, a spoon, and plates. In the late 1950s and 1960s, between 7:00 and 8:00 AM and often later, long lines including backlanders (Plate 72) formed to receive medicine from me. I will never forget that first injection with no orange to practice on. The first tiirust stayed in, but witii die second thrust, the needle bounced out. I eventually learned. NUMBER 33 23 FIGURE 1.—Escalvado (a Canela village), 1975, from the air looking north, including Indian service area in foreground with its old farm immediately below, its post building in center, and its school building on far right. After my first few weeks, Chief Kaara-?khre (cerrado-deer its-hollow) summoned me to cure a woman with a fever. I diagnosed her illness as pneumonia and did have Terramycin with me, a specific medicine for pneumonia. Her father, however, did not like the yellow capsules and vetoed die treatment. Kaara?khre stood by me, persuading her father, so I was caught between die chiefs desires and a fatiier's blame. What if she died? I visited her every six hours for four days, not leaving until I had seen that she had taken the pill each time, and she lived. Later, I learned her father was die most negative kay (curer, or evil spell thrower in this case) in the tribe, a point which was reported by Nimuendaju (1946:238). Sick call helped build my rapport with the tribe. In the late 1950s, any educated city person in the backlands was expected to know pharmacology and apply it, and die drug packaging had very extensive and complete instructions. My premedical training and the medical tomes I had brought into the field for this purpose facilitated matters considerably. When I could not really help them, I often gave cafe-aspirina ratiier than nothing at all. The U.S. Consular Agency in Sao Luis gave me medicines in great quantities to distribute. One day in the late 1950s, three migratory backland lepers, 24 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY A. STRAW HOUSE OF INDIAN AGENT B. GARDEN OF AGENT NDIAN SERVICE POST BUILDING OF BRICK AND TILE NDIAN SERVICE SCHOOL BUILDING OF BRICK AND TILE GARDEN OF INDIAN AGENT MAP 6.—Porquinhos village and Indian service post buildings, 1975. The open lands are cerrado. who had been searching for a cure for a long time in many different places, waUced into the open part of my sister's house. I received them courteously, of course, but was inwardly dismayed, never having met lepers and remembering descrip­ tions of them in passages in the Bible. They were only slightly disfigured, however, and just asked for medicines. I searched the tome for leprosy. Fortunately, it was described as being minimally contagious, so I relaxed and gave me usual cafe-aspirina, recommending that they walk to the dispensary of an Italian monk, a surgeon, in Grajau, about 120 kilometers to me west through the backlands. By die 1970s relief came in the form of better-trained Indian service personnel [II.B.2.i.(4).(a)] and the linguistic missionary [ILB.3.(a)], who knew far more medicine than I, so fortunately most of this NUMBER 33 25 FIGURE 2.—Porquinhos (an Apanyekra village), 1975, from the air looking southeast, with Indian service buildings on right (agent's dwelling nearest, post building in center, and school farthest) and airstrip beyond. practice went elsewhere. This kind of free giving and service (only backlanders brought goods in exchange) helped me considerably with the Canela, who feel shame deeply when they think they are being used, and I was using them by just being present in the tribe. They feared I was getting something free, so that anything I could give them—medicine and attention in this case—made diem feel less exploited. Although the tribal council had decreed tiiat I could take any pictures because of my general contributions to festivals, some individuals, nevertiieless, wanted payments on die spot when I took pictures of them; for example, in the 1970s, a women, sitting in front of a house on the vdlage circle next to the path to the principal bathing place in Escalvado village, demanded a payment for herself and her children. I reminded her of the pills I had given her children some weeks earlier, and she gave up her demand. Anomer way I helped my adoptive families in the 1960s and dirough 1976 was to buy some of me game and fruit brought to die house by other Canela between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning. These selective purchases let me and my families eat better and gave me a chance to treat the sellers in a personal way, speaking to them and doing something for diem. I was not just living there on their lands witiiout providing sometiiing, individually, and only individual treat­ ment would satisfy them. Te?hok and MiT-khwey helped me enormously in these transactions, selecting what was good and needed in the households. They were kind and gracious to the people we could not help, often giving them something small to go away with [III.D.3.e.(3)]. Feeling and caring for die less fortunate are prime Canela values [III.B.l.b.(2)]. In the late 1950s, Canela individuals often came wim a "gift," saying they expected notiiing in return, but tiiey did. This activity constituted forced "gift" exchanging at a level I could not control: if I refused, something I had and tiiey wanted, they saw me as being "stingy" [III.B.l.a]. To refuse tiieir requests honestly, I lived without goods and money, trusting my families would feed me. They were, however, a needy people, caught in a deficit economy [ILC.3.g] and dierefore in moderate endemic hunger. Moreover, this kind of begging, even from nonrelatives, was an accepted custom [IV.A.3.c.(5).(c)]. By 8:00 AM my research assistant council, numbering three to six depending on the topic, assembled in my room in Te?hok's or Mnkhwey's house (1960s and 1970s). At these early meetings, I asked for personal experiences or dreams to relax them, and as our working relationship matured we 26 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY worked on the topic of the period, such as checking my basic ethnological study of the late 1950s (in 1964), kinship and ecology (in 1969), kinship and marriage (in 1970), matril- ineality in rituals (in 1975), folk Catholicism (in 1976), festivals and ethnobiological concepts (in 1978), and key words and phrases (including dualism, in 1979) rjn.4.f]. By 10:00 AM one of the women of the house would call to say coffee and crackers were ready, and we would take a break for about 20 minutes. At noon the group dispersed to tiieir houses for lunch and rest. At this time, I received visitors, such as a backland merchant. He might have been waiting more than an hour, because my family members prohibited interruptions of the council meetings. Thus, the merchant would impatiently summon me to see his goods, eitiier close by, or in another Canela house where he was staying, or more correctly, in the house assigned to him near the post (Map 5, F), which was me only legal place for him to trade his products. Usually I declined to buy, but sometimes dominant family members demonstrated their needs. Te?hok and Hawmro were so modest that I almost had to force needed items on them, whereas Te?hok's husband, the older Krooto (Plate lid), and die Apanyekra in general were very aggressive in their demands (Maybury-Lewis, 1965:172). For some people, I was obviously there to be exploited, so I had to resist their demands, see through their pretended needs, and walk a narrow line between refusing and pleasing. In 1957 and 1958 I spent time with my families on their farms and worked with diem there to some extent. I even went hunting several times. The Canela did not expect such participation, however, because Nimuendaju had not often done it. Thus I did not have to work as an economic provider to gain their confidence, which is often the case in otiier field research situations (Seeger, 1981). They did want me, however, to participate in their festivals as Nimuendaju had done. Thus I had to work my way slowly out of such time consuming performances because I could study tiiese pageants better as an observer than a participant [I.B.l]. In the late 1950s, I spent much of the noon period running errands for myself. Money could not be given to anybody to do or buy something for me or die tribe. Money too easily became cachaca (alcohol), so die Indian service forbade me to give money to all but a few alcohol-resistant individuals. Moreover, money was begged off of most men by their classificatory wives, or by individuals truly in need. A messenger with my money—anybody's money—was a target. Messengers felt compelled to be generous witii what they were carrying so as not to be accused of being hootsi (stingy)—the greatest evil [III.B.l.a.(3)]. Thus I had to go and do my errands myself, which was usually exhausting but did expose me to many people and to what was going on. Such visits to the post or to individuals in otiier houses—or in Barra do Corda to die meat market at 4:00 AM—took an incredible amount of time and energy. In the 1950s and 1960s I spent a great deal of time on sick cads, on arranging activities, and on buying goods and foods. By die 1970s, however, several Canela understood Western values enough to run errands involving money (even to Barra do Corda) and to spend and account for the funds correctly upon their return. Thus, I had more time for my research and did not get so tired, but I was less in contact with many individuals in the tribe, with backlanders, and witii people in Barra do Corda. When I could break away from errands, my sister or brother's wife gave me lunch, which was the same as breakfast or dinner: manioc flour witii beans and grass tea, rice with chicken bits and oranges, or meat pie (manioc and pork) with bananas and brown sugar (rapadura) tea. Then a siesta followed as well as preparation for the afternoon witii the research assistant council. In the 1970s, tape cassettes of daily notes and meetings of me research assistant council had to be copied for separate mailing to the United States. Xeroxed materials of earlier festival field notes had to be examined for me to follow up on, and research assistants' manuscripts [I.F] had to be reviewed to pose valid questions to the writers, keeping diem motivated and within the scope of the program. By 2:00 PMI called out from my door across the village plaza in my best voice—a squeak they teased me about—to summon my helpers for the afternoon session, which usually ended at 5:00 but often went on until 6:00 PM near the end of each stay. The following period of die day was die most relaxed and varied. Its first activity was to take my soap box and towel to go bathing, sometimes alone but often with certain Canela friends. In the late 1950s, soap was often lacking, so I went at noon as well, using fine sand to rub the grit off the ankles. One time when I went down to the stream at dusk against the advice of Te?hok, who feared a ghost would hurt me, she sent my small nephew, Ku?taa-tey, to watch out for me. While in the cool chest-deep water of the Santo Estevao with the boy squatting on die log thrown across die stream just below, I froze widi fear from his shout, "palpup-re he" (a-certain-venomous-snake there), but nothing happened. He said it passed just by me, and I never knew whether he was joking or serious. During the late 1950s, when die likelihood of being allowed to stay was tenuous, I frequently went down to die Ponto post to eat with the Indian service personnel, trying to maintain rapport wim them. Seated next to the Indian service agent with male backland travelers around die table and all women in the kitchen, I ate and talked with the men until about 8:00 PM, learning much about the backland communities and way of life. These contacts resulted in several invitations to the fiestas of communities such as Bacabal, Jenipapo do Resplandes, Ribeirao, and Curicaca (Map 3), where I learned to dance in die backland shuffling manner and worried Canela companions by drinking cachaca. They thought a jealous young drunk civilizado would knife me away from my dancing partner and were ready to come to my rescue. In the early evening, I often went to the plaza to watch die NUMBER 33 27 dancing (sometimes dancing myself, in the late 1950s) and then attended the meeting of the councd of elders to practice my progress in understanding die language. At this time of day, the air and sands held a pleasant warmth. The rose sunsets, distant blue hills, twisted savanna trees, light dry breezes, along with die singing by the houses and the debating of the elders, made this an interval of great charm. Sometimes there were purchases to face or avoid when returning to my home in the evening around 7:00 and (later in the 1970s) workers to pay. After dinner witii my sister's or brother's family another work period followed, which was more varied than the three previous ones. I seldom attended the evening sing-dance. Sometimes, in pressing periods near die end of a visit, the research assistant council reconvened to help me, but more often special assistants came to carry out specific jobs. In the late 1950s, the Canela would not help me at all during die evenings unless I sat with diem in the plaza or in their houses. In those days, I spent most of the evenings socializing wim my families, obtaining information in the plaza, or working on my field notes written in speed writing. In the 1970s, however, with most notes being recorded on tape cassettes and copied to otiier cassettes, I was free to work witii assistants during some of the evenings. In 1978 I read much of the evening to plan further research. In 1979, I recorded myths in my room and music where it was being performed. I also recorded singing in my room by special arrangement. Some evenings had to be spent preparing for die council meeting of the next day, copying cassettes, and playing back die taped recordings of their performances to groups of Canela listeners who requested to hear them. They simply had to hear my festival and daily sing-dance recordings, or I would have taken something from mem without paying for it. By 10:00 PM most people were asleep but some were still dancing. This was when I treated die members of my family house, two or tiiree times a year, to their "gifts" for housing and feeding me. They were ashamed to be seen gaining goods from me. Those who knew would spread rumors or come begging, so we did it quietly in the dark. The women liked ceramic beads and high quality cloth, which tiiey used for trading or for adorning their young female kin when the latter were acting in festival roles of high honor [II.D.2.e.(l)]. My presents (or payments) of this sort saved them trips to Barra do Corda (for good clotii) and even to coastal cities (for quality ceramic beads), which they felt compelled to make to carry out certain festival situations widi sufficient pride and honor. When my brother Hawmro, a great hunter, killed a deer, he usually brought it into our house very quietly in the middle of die night and butchered it immediately, sending for certain kin to come and receive their share. He distributed as much as possible as quickly as he could, according to his long-term debt patterns and his desires. Then there would be less for non-kin and perpetual beggars to beg from him the next day, when die news of his kill had spread around die village [III.B.l.a.(2)]. In 1957, tiiey woke me to partake in such feasts, but after our rapport was established, tiiey soon learned that I valued my sleep too much to lose it over venison, which they could save for me to eat the next day. The last part of the day was routine. After dusting fleas off my ankles and calves, I launched myself up into a hammock strung high next to the thatch wall. There, a kerosene lamp, with a mirror behind it to concentrate and focus the light, stood on a specially-made shelf. Then I read myself to sleep in 30 to 45 minutes. Brazilian novels were my favorites—Erico Verissimo and early Jorge Amado. The Canela sleep on platforms about 50 to 80 centimeters high (Plate 8a) with their feet exposed to a fire. Because sleeping was always a problem for me, I chose to go the easy way of a sleeping bag in a hammock. Moreover, general maintenance was easier with everything suspended well above the ground. Sometimes, sleep was facilitated by half-a-dozen young Canela of both sexes walking slowly around die boulevard, softly singing sustained harmony in a minor key [II.E.3.C] [II.F.l.b.(2).(b)]. [LB] Early Acceptance Experiences [I.B.I] From Tribal Member to Ethnologist When I arrived among the Canela in August 1957, the prestige and good names of Curt Nimuendaju and Olimpio Martins Cruz reinforced my acceptance by the tribe. The Canela wanted me to be Nimuendaju's "nephew" because then I would, from the point of view of kinship, be in his place (hatsd iyahel tsd khdm: his-place my-filled place in). I did not want to deceive them, however, and tiiought that assuming my great predecessor's roles might lead to expectations I could not carry out. Thus I assured them that I was not Nimuendaju's nephew but an American ethnologist who had come to learn about them as Nimuendaju had done. Accordingly, Te?hok's family adopted me on my second evening in the tribe. (This family was not related in any way to Nimuendaju's adopted kin.) On about the fourth evening, they presented me with an unmarried woman without children to keep me company. This kind offer had to be declined. I told them that the Indian service would put me in jail if I accepted die woman, and I had a sentence on paper expressing this concern. The sentence had been prepared in Canela on die recommendation of Sr. Olimpio. To be taken into the tribe, it was helful for me to participate in the initiation festival. The Pro-khamma were very quick to "catch" and put me into the Pepye festival as a novice [IV.A.3.c.(2)]( just as they had done to Nimuendaju. This 28 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY initial "imprisonment" (na prisdo: in prison) (Plate 42e) was quite realistic, but they did not make me stay in confinement like the other novices. They merely expected me to march and be with die Pepye initiates when this suited my learning about die festival. They let me return to my quarters and equipment in my adopted family's house whenever necessary. In 1957 and 1958,1 almost always marched and acted with die Pepye and Pepkahak festival [IV.A.3.c.(3)] troops (Plate 44c) when any of their performances were taking place, but returned to my Canela sister's house, or in Baixao Preto to my brother's and mother's house, during periods of inactivity. In 1959, my role as an ethnographer as well as being a member of the tribe was established. When the Pro-khamma were planning the Kheetuwaye festival and deciding who should carry out the various roles, tiiey asked tf I would like to be a Kheetuwaye novice [IV.A.3.c.(l)]. Because I hesitated, die older Kaapeltuk (Figure 50) answered for me, saying mat his Informal Friend [III.E.6] (myself) did not want to be in the festival at all because he really just wanted to take pictures. One of my greatest early fieldwork problems of participating in and observing ceremonies at the same time was thereby solved. From then on I was not assigned any festival roles, although my families still gave me roles in life cycle rites. This recognition of my status as an ethnologist made it possible to record die festivals far more intensively. The older Kaapeltuk, a principal helper of Nimuendaju's, understood that role. The older Kaapeltuk had been helpful in this way on two previous occasions. By October of 1957, he was the new chief of Baixao Preto village in the place of Ikhe. For my first observation of a festival, the Festival of Oranges, I had with me in the plaza only a pad and pencil with which to take notes. That was all I could manage at one time during that early period. Much to my surprise, the older Kaapeltuk came up and scolded me mildly—as was his chiefly way—for not having my camera. (In graduate school we had heard that Indians did not like their pictures taken and that tiiey would charge for any photographs snapped; this was not the case among the Canela, at least for Nimuendaju, myself, and Indian service personnel.) Thus, I ran back to my room in my brother's house, left the pad and pencil, returned to the plaza with a loaded camera, and started taking pictures. It was necessary to live up to the older Kaapeltuk's view of what an edinologist should be doing during a festival, and at this early time in my fieldwork it was certainly more important to please the chief of the village than to satisfy myself. A year later, when the older Kaapeltuk's mother-in-law died, I attended her funeral proceedings witiiout pad and pencil and also without a camera. My particular American sensitivities made me behave in a very respectful manner at a funeral. During the middle of the rite, however, die understanding older Kaapeltuk came over and asked why notes were not being taken and pictures snapped. Stunned, I went to my brotiier's house and came back with this equipment. Years later, in 1970 when my favorite niece Te?kura died of tuberculosis in my Canela sister's house, I played die unabashed role of the ethnologist and took some of the most comprehensive pictures I have ever photographed of any rite, including views above and close to the cadaver, while my female kin were wailing. I recorded die rite as the famdy expected me to, as an ethnologist fulfilling his role. [LB.2] Two Most Guarded Types of Behavior It was relatively easy to begin fieldwork among die Canela with the tradition of Nimuendaju and the prestige of Sr. Olimpio behind me. The transferred love for tiiese two men won me a place in the tribe but not in their fuU confidence—at least, not on two sensitive issues. Thus, in spite of my easy entry, there were still no really "trained" research assistants. Later such assistants facilitated fieldwork and enabled it to proceed ten times faster and with far greater certainty than it did during die first 15 months. [I.B.2.a] EXTRAMARITAL RELATIONS SYSTEM One principal Canela point of secrecy was about their extramarital sexual relations and about the extensiveness and frequency of this behavior network [IV.A.3.f]. They assumed tiiat I, luce other outsiders, did not want to hear—for fear of embarrassment—about tiieir extramarital practices. My early refusal of a woman must have contributed to such an assumption. They knew outsiders had cast shame upon the Canela for their traditional extramarital practices, and even Nimuendaju had been unaccepting. Thus, they were not going to embarrass me or themselves through such disclosures. Still, their reticence had to be overcome. After my return to the tribe in 1958,1 made a particularly direct attempt to let them realize mat I would not think badly of diem because of their extramarital sexual practices. One technique I used was to display a medical dictionary which had a chart of the various parts of the body. I pretended to be learning their words for the different locations of die body and quite openly included a number of questions about die sexual areas. Women and men came in groups to see the printed photographs and diagrams, so there were a number of occasions on which to display openness and approval. Soon research assistants became willing to talk about extramarital affairs and as a result a great deal of new material emerged that was not in Nimuendaju's published accounts (W. Crocker, 1964,1974a). Later, when my research assistant council sessions were established we discussed these practices fully, and they became quite open about sexual matters. In 1975, the marital life history study (first carried out in 1970) was largely redone; it was strikingly clear that they could talk about each other's, and any otiier person's, sex life in a mixed-sex group of some 20 individuals witiiout any hesitations and concerns,as long as die information being given was about the past. Nevertheless, in NUMBER 33 29 1979, when talking about sexual details witii several research assistants, I was surprised to note that they were quite embarrassed. This was an acculturation phenomenon. By 1979, it seemed that some of die more acculturated Canela were having difficulties with such subject matter, even though tiiese were some of the same individuals who had talked about sexual matters quite comfortably less than a decade earlier. [I.B.2.b] OFFICIAL STEALING OF BACKLANDER CATTLE Anotiier test of acceptance had to do with the stealing of cattle. The Canela of Ponto used to take about half a dozen head of backlander catde a year (Nimuendaju, 1946:160). Sr. Olimpio had told me about this upon my arrival, and there was no reason to tiiink die situation was different several years later. By my twelfth month with the Canela it was clear that youths who were not under die control of the councti of elders every now and tiien rustled a cow from some backland rancher, but this did not happen very often. One day in 1958, when I was about to start lunch, my sister gave me a dish of beef and certain staples. This was a surprise, so I commented to her that no head of catde had been ktiled recentiy. She smded and said it was all right to eat die meat anyway. It seemed best, neverdieless, to make a game out of the new situation, so I stationed one of my nephews by the door on die Indian service post side of \h& house, teUing him to warn me if one of the post agents was about to appear. I even gave the obviously stolen cattle meat a special name, caminhdo kahdk-re (truck facsimile-smad: a large and dear creature), which amused diem. It happened on the fodowing day, when more caminhdo kahdk-re was presented, that the stationed nephew did come running into the house, saying that the post teacher was about to arrive. Quickly, I rushed the plate of beef into my room, hid the meat under some cloth, and returned with the plate stid full of other food. The teacher did not discover what had happened, and when he left, amusement was expressed by everybody. I was now on their side, eating stolen catde meat witii them and feeling just as afraid of being discovered as tiiey were. They no longer hid die fact from me in their tribal councd meetings that it was both the councd of elders and die first chief of die tribe who were authorizing certain youths to go out and steal cattle from certain backland ranchers. It was from that point on that the Canela accepted me in an almost total manner. There were no more issues diey felt tiiey had to hide from me. [I.C] Problem- solving in the Field I have often thought of the Canela in terms of their relative advantages and disadvantages as a tribe for ethnological research. Fieldwork among the Canela and Apanyekra was necessarily quite different than among recently pacified tribes further west One advantage of studying the Canela was they were ideal for long term field research. From a search of the "Handbook of South American Indians" bibliography (Steward, 1946-1959) in 1956,1 found die Nimuendaju volume. Already published and available, "The Eastern Timbira" presented a great deal of informadon about the Canela 20 years earlier. Studying this volume made it clear that there was the possibility of following family lines, and thereby finding the same individuals or tiieir children stdl living in me vdlage. This abtiity to trace the past into the present was very important for diachronic research. In addition, tiiey are not a migratory hunting and gatiiering people and, therefore, the Canela have remained in the same general area. Individuals did not move from village to village (such as is done by the Barama River Caribs of British Guiana (GiUen, 1936), so that family lines among the Canela would not be difficult to trace. Moreover, they were not war-like or hostde to outsiders, having been "pacified" about a century and a half earlier. Therefore communication between diem and me was not impeded by their fears of outsiders. Another advantage is die environmental conditions. The Canela live in relatively dry cerrado instead of humid, dense tropical forests. There is almost no winged pest life. Cool and abundant water, which originates in springs only a dozen kilometers away, is available for swimming and also for drinking without purifying. The maximum range of tempera­ ture is between 12 and 37 degrees Celsius. No rain occurs for tiiree months (June through August), and little rain for six months of the year (June through November). There are occasional but substantial downpours from mid-December to mid-April. During die whole course of the year, there are only 900 to 1500 mdlimeters of precipitation. The relative humidity drops to 50 or 40 percent each day at about 3 PM in June and July, and goes below 60 percent for many days at 3 PM in May and from August through November, letting most clothing and equipment dry out [II.C.l]. Breeze-swept but wed-closed palm match houses with pounded clay floors simplify life. Serious diseases, such as schistosomiasis, chagas, and malaria, are absent There are many enjoyable backland and tribal foods available, such as rice, oranges, chicken, eggs, beef, partridge. For aerobic exercise, one can walk and jog on cerrado trails. In fact, it should be possible for me to return in my 70s or 80s without having to be too concerned about problems related to old age, especially now tiiat there are roads leading into die vdlages and highways in the region. My wife and her chddren were able to come and have a good time in the swimming holes cut out of the gallery forests surrounding die streams. After my first entry in 1957,1 brought in no food for myseti", but I did have to bring in preserved foods and powdered beverages for my wife and her children. The local foods were easy to obtain because merchants came by selling pigs, chickens, oranges, brown sugar blocks, sacks of rice and manioc flour. Moreover, the Canela hunted all sorts of wtid game. Notiiing could be better than roasted partridge, or 30 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY venison and emu (ema: South American ostrich) meat slowly smoked over very low coals. As far as diseases were concerned, malaria (in the late 1950s) occurred only in places in the dry forests well away from Barra do Corda and not in the cerrado near die Canela. (I caught it while visiting the Guajajara at die Sao Pedro Indian service post; Map 3.) Schistosomiasis and chagas did not exist in that part of Brazil. House rats and fleas came into the region only in 1974. A final advantage was that die Canela are a generous, kind people who care about the welfare of others living among them, unlike certain other tribes in the literature (Biocca, 1969). They are humorous and fun-loving. Best of all, tiiey do not hold grudges, relatively speaking, Idee the Guajajara living nearby in the dry forests; and they do not have taboos that make it difficult to taUc about people's names, their ancestors, or ready any topic at ad; and they are used to people from other cultures so that they are aware and tolerant of cultural differences, which they allow outsiders to maintain. A major difficulty for work among the Canela is the number of people involved. A tribe of 50 or 100 individuals is often die case in the Amazon Basin. In die late 1950s, however, die Canela were in two villages, Ponto (population -265) and Baixao Preto (-145), and the Apanyekra were in one village, Aguas Claras (-175). These numbers complicated die learning of faces and raised die question of what was a representative sample. As soon as I learned die names and activities of the significant people in one place, I had to move to another village. Therefore, when I returned to the first vidage, much memorized information had been forgotten or confused. Activities followed in one vdlage could not usually be followed at a distance from another one, because reporting and verbal communication—before the development of the fine communi­ cation abilities of the younger Kaapeltuk [I.G.4]—were so unreliable and erroneous that the threads of continuity were largely lost. A bigger disadvantage by far was the Canela attitude (in the late 1950s) about "begging" (Glossary) and tiieir belief that diey had an absolute right to be given what they were asking for. They did not suffer any negative emotional effects from their insistent, forthright, incredibly aggressive begging [III.B.l.f.(4)]. The persistence and aggressiveness of this activity tended to subside during my period of 22 years with the Canela, but it was only necessary to go to the Apanyekra for a short visit in the mid-1970s to become thoroughly reminded of this difficult behavior. What made it more difficult was that tiiey had such a deficit economy between me months of September and December [II.C.3.g] mat many of them did suffer from moderate hunger. When they came begging, it was usually because they were very hungry, especially during their years at Sardinha in the dry forests [II.B.2.g]. Hunger was endemic and beyond the aid of an individual outsider. It was not just food, however, that they wanted; anything a backlander would buy they begged for and ran die 10 to 20 kilometers to a backland community to sell, probably the same day. This generous tradition was reinforced by Nimuendaju, who had sharpened this sense of having the right to demand foods and goods from an ethnologist. He had bought catde and food for their festivals (Olimpio Cruz, personal communication) in the days when such items were not expensive. There was also me paternalistic tradition of the great Rondon's Indian Protection Service, when die Canela were given ample free goods. These were terminated only one or two years before my arrival [II.B.2.d]. Large quantities of food, salt, cloth, and farming equipment (such as machetes, axes, and hoes) were freely given. The Canela expected that my generosity should be taking the place of this support from the Indian service. These factors made the demands of the Canela and the Apanyekra difficult to satisfy financially. Their clever ways of obligating me to buy things for them were best met by living almost all the time with no money at hand, trusting tiiat they would feed me, which my families always did in the late 1950s. If I had available money, I would be seen as being hootsi (stingy: evil) if I did not use it immediately for their or my own benefit. Having money and not spending it on the conspicuous needs of relatives was die strongest accusation the Canela had against certain backlan­ ders: "He would let his grandmother die ratiier tiian spend a cruzeiro on her for medicine" [III.B.l.a.(l)]. My solution was to live on the small amount of credit backlanders extended to me. This was hampering, but it was possible this way to buy the necessary foods to assist sufficientiy in my Canela families' support. When I first arrived in Belm in 1957, Galvao warned me about Canela financial demands, saying tiiey were the tribe that traveled and begged the most in large Brazilian cities [II.A.3.a.(3)] and were, consequently, aware of the prices some large-city people paid for tiieir artifacts and would expect die same of me. At first, it was a constant battle between holding the line and pleasing them. Pia and David Maybury-Lewis (1965:172) experienced almost identical problems among the Shavante and Sherente: "They [Shavante] asked for presents because it was their right, and if they did not get diem they glowered or stadced off in a huff." In this context, Maybury-Lewis refers to the Shavante, who still maintain their pride, as "highwaymen," while die Sherente were "beggars." Similarly, the Apanyekra were still highwaymen in the 1970s, while most Canela had become too ashamed to beg and a few begged patiietically. Anotiier difficulty was managing the medical situation. Bodi Indians and backlanders expected to be able to get some medicines from me in the late 1950s (as almost the only knowledgeable person in die region, they thought). Some supplies were bought to satisfy their expectations, and this was also a good way to build rapport. The disadvantage was that until the Indian service post personnel's medical stock and treatment capabilities surpassed mine, as they certainly did in the 1970s, I spent considerable time each morning making sick NUMBER 33 31 calls. From the point of view of research gained, this accomplished almost nothing. Probably the greatest disadvantage of ad in my fieldwork situation was the proximity and nature of the Indian service personnel in the late 1950s. Colleagues told me just to go to die Canela for a short visit witiiout permission (since such licenses took so long to obtain), and die Indian service would never know the difference; but with die service personnel stationed and living just alongside the one Apanyekra and two Canela villages and also stationed and watching from die municipio level in Barra do Corda, an outsider could do nothing without dieir help and without their knowledge of his presence. Permissions from the federal level of die service were necessary for any nonbacklander to spend more man a day at any one of die Canela villages. (If one "friend" employed in die service had made an exception for me, others would have reported on him at higher levels.) Moreover, since the Canela did not generally like and trust most of the Indian service personnel sent to them in the late 1950s, it would have been better if I had not had to deal directly with service individuals all the time. It became quickly evident, however, that it would be the Indian service personnel who would throw me out, if anyone did, rather dian the Canela. Thus, I obviously had to continuously cultivate rapport with die service personnel by spending much time with them, especially in the late 1950s, before the general attitude of the personnel dramatically changed during the 1970s [II.B.2.i.(2),(4)] [II.B.3.e]. My constant contact and fraternizing with service personnel in the late 1950s did not help to build trust with the Canela until they were sure I was really "on their side" and would not tell the Indian service about their secrets, especially their stolen cattle [I.B.2.b]. However, even though I visited the service personnel and discussed matters with them almost every day in Ponto, and even though I fraternized witii them to the extent of frequent meals at the post and going to backland festas (weekend parties) widi diem, die Canela eventually came to trust me. Trading for artifacts of Canela material culture was an important component of the fieldwork, but again, difficulties did arise. First, botii the Canela and Apanyekra felt strongly that each individual was entitled to receive something in exchange for my presence among diem and for the research information I was receiving. Since I was clearly "gaining something off tiieir backs" (ganhando nas costas deles), tiiey wanted a "return" (hapan tsd ?nd). Otiierwise, they would feel as if they were being taken "bare." Moreover, if I were not paying for my presence, I would be taking her or him in a "light" manner. As witii "begging," this expectation of a substantial "return" from me was justified through die "acculturation contract" set up by their culture hero Awkhee between the Indian and die civilizado [II.B.2.f] [IV.C.l.b.(6)]. In 1975 for example, they actually discontinued festival activities so tiiat the guests of the missionary-linguist, Jack Popjes, could not see the festival in progress and the log racing. The missionaries had not brought in sufficient foods and iron implements to make it dignified for die Canela to continue with die festival in their presence. They were not going to give the outsiders something without gaining enough in return. Something similar happened to me in October 1957 which convinced me that if I wanted to see festivals, I would have to be more "generous." The older Pu?to's words against me to this effect in the plaza concerned me. He was die great sing-dance and festival leader of die council of elders, and he had been significant as a gourd ratde leader even in the time of Nimuendaju (1946:199). Since by my third month I knew I did very much want to study festivals, I sent for more money. The alternative was not filming them, taking any pictures, or watching them extensively—a watershed difference in level of expenses. In November of 1974, as I was returning to the Canela after having been away for three years, a television team of 0 Globo, the great newspaper complex of Rio de Janeiro, was negotiating to film the Canela. They asked me in Barra do Corda what the Canela would want in compensation, and when I said at least a head of cattle (for five hundred people) and certain food staples in addition, they said this was out of the question. This strong need of die Canela to exact high payments from the visitor, or die anthropologist, was a major difficulty in codecting material artifacts. Thus, in the late 1950s I established a reciprocal arrangement for acquiring diem. Each person was given something of acceptable value to them in exchange for an artifact of acceptable value to me. Food from the farms and wild game from the cerrado and gallery forests were not accepted as approriate to this "barter" system. To institutionalize this system over several visits, I desig­ nated a certain day for trading. This was usually a Sunday and occurred not more than one time a stay unless die field trip was over a year in length, as happened in 1959-1960, 1969-1970, and 1978-1979. In the 1960s and 1970s these trading days were connected with census taking. By the 1960s I could keep goods stored in my room for trading without having to redistribute them almost immediately—or be called "stingy." Thus, I finally gained sufficient control to carry out tribal scale trading. In die 1960s and 1970s, the day of trading was announced at least a month ahead, a day not long after die completion of a census. For census taking, all members of a famtiy were required to be present in their house, for which a certain morning or afternoon was designated. About tiiree houses were processed each day, two in the morning and one in the afternoon, and each house was taken in sequence around die vdlage circle. Thus, census taking, which included me collecting of a large amount of quantitative data, took about a montii or six weeks to complete, and often die period was lengthened by intervening events, such as festivals. They quite rightfully expected some sort of payment for almost all members of a family to be present on these census 32 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY days and give tiieir time for as long as a third or half a day. They missed a significant amount of work or play by being at the census; and certain Canela, usually adolescent men up to 20, simply would not appear unless they were satisfactorily compensated. My trade-off with everyone was that if they were present for my questioning and for the picture taking, I would trade with them on the designated trading day. (There were between 400 and 600 Canela in the 1970s.) In this way, a very high percentage of people in the village was actually present in tiieir houses during the few hours when needed. It is noteworthy that if their chief or the Indian service agent had given them a direct order to be present, they would not have obeyed in sufficient numbers, though there was considerably more compliance in such matters in the late 1970s. During these census visits to each house, either an early or a late morning appointment or an afternoon one was specified so that no one had to wait a whole day. The census visits involved much more than just counting heads. Kinship and demographic questions were asked of most adolescent and adult persons. Their festival society memberships, hdmren (Glossary) and shamanic statuses, Formal and Informal Friendships, and their early festival honor and political positions were sought. I also asked what and how much they had planted in tiieir farms and recorded on tape what tiiey had planted around their village houses. (While die kinship and society membership data were reliable, their farm agricultural data were weak and are reliable only in a very general way.) I recorded the size, shape, and construction materials of their houses by speaking approximate measurements and descriptions onto tape, and I listed all the equipment seen in a house on tape, as well as much of what tiiey had in tiieir baskets and suitcases. The final act of the census taking was always to take two pictures of the whole family—all the house residents—in front of their house. One person, in the front row of the group, was given a meter-long staff to hold vertically, which served as a relative measure of individual heights without the necessity of measuring each person. Each family received one Polaroid print and the other print was kept for the record. (On my return visits, each family received a larger copy of my print as well as copies of any other pictures taken.) On the subsequendy designated trading day, die larger items were evenly distributed throughout the village, e.g., one axe and two machetes for each large house, depending on its size and die number of such items in stock. Moreover, a standard price, with variations, was developed for pots, machetes, pieces of cloth—every category of item they were to receive—so that fairness, which was very important to them, would be recognized. Standard prices were also developed for all their categories of material artifacts with variations for quality. Sometimes, during an evening council meeting and well ahead of time, I requested mat special items I needed to complete my inventory be made by certain individuals, but most of the selecting of items to be made was left to titem. However, their items presented for "sale" on the trading day were not always very well made. If tiiey were too poorly fabricated, die individual had to come back with better-made artifacts on die same or another designated day in order to receive the house-assigned goods. Through this fieldwork device, I gained (1) the presence of a group of people in their family home for extensive questioning together, (2) a procedure for giving everybody some appropri­ ate item—candy to axe heads—to pay for my presence, and (3) a set of artifacts for the museums. They also gained little items of satisfaction on the census day and implements of significant utility on die trading day, all conducted in a spirit of fairness and good rapport. This reciprocal system was soon accepted and worked well to everyone's advantage. Traditional material artifacts of great artistic and sentimental value, as well as of ceremonial honor (Table 8, items 1-8), were bought separately on any day during an announced "open season" for an amount of money that showed respect for die item, which sometimes was 20 to 30 years old. I also recorded die history of any apparently significant material artifact. In 1979, Wakhoo brought to me a krat-re (Table 8, item 6), an item of honor that she had been awarded in 1958 during a ceremony that I had attended. Thus, the workmanship was fine and its age and provenience was known. [I.D] Field Equipment [I.D.I] First Five Field Trips, 1957-1966 The 10 field research trips from the United States to the Canela can be divided into the five earlier ones (1957-1958, 1959-1960, 1963, 1964, and 1966) and the five later ones (1969-1970, 1971, 1974-1975, 1976, and 1978-1979). This division is based on die topics studied and on the field equipment used. By 1969, tape recording had largely sup­ planted written field notes, and 35 mm color photography with new cameras and lenses was supplanting my 54 mm black and white photography. By 1974, Super-8 filming had replaced die much earlier work with a 16 mm camera. Such changes are not research advances in every case, nor do tiiey necessarily represent technological progress. For instance, it would have been better for the eventual record to have continued with 54 mm black and white photography and 16 mm filming, because of greater film size, but the new techniques provided greater flexibility and increased volume. Moreover, there were very significant subject matter changes between 1966 and 1969. In die later period more emphasis was placed on kinship and quantitative approaches, on particular emic and linguistic orientations, and on cognitive and semantic analysis of key words. Festival description was pursued extensively during both periods, but new techniques were employed in the 1970s. NUMBER 33 [I.D.I.a] NOTE-TAKING Before going to Brazil in 1957, I took a course in speedwriting and then further adapted this recording technique to my needs while witii the Canela. Almost everywhere I went while in the field from 1957 dirough 1966,1 carried a small metal clipboard, which was about 8 centimeters wide by 20 centimeters long. Pads of paper that had been cut in Brazil to fit die size of die clipboard were attached. Specially cut pieces of carbon paper were slipped between the pages to create two copies of all field notes. Such notes were always taken in pencil because ink might run if exposed to water. My brother in Baixao Preto wove a large purse-like moko for me to carry die smaU clipboard and otiier elements of my field equipment everywhere I went. Back in die United States for die winter of 1958-1959,1 typed die entire collection of field notes onto 13 by 24 centimeter slips of paper, and cross-referenced them by subject matter by means of additional carbon copies—usually seven. Much material was added to the notes from memory but placed in brackets on the slips of paper. In 1963, my first wife Mary Jean and I made a two-week visit to die Canela in the dry forest on die Guajajara reservation at die Sardinha post (Map 3). The small clipboard and a 35 mm camera were the only instruments taken on the trip. In February 1964, we arrived in Sardinha with new equipment mat kept up with the technology of the times. Though I still used the same clipboard for certain purposes, such as linguistics, we now had two Gray stenographic recording machines, which engraved the voice onto blue plastic discs. Daily notes and observations were recorded in this manner, though I spent much time keeping these machines functioning during the humid months of February through April, and tiien again in the windy and dusty dry mondis of June and July. I carried one engraving machine around on a shoulder strap almost all the time while in the field. The disc engraved on the first machine was copied onto a second disc by the second machine at some later time to make a back-up copy. When recording notes in my field office, I used two microphones in order to make two copies at the same time. Back at the Smithsonian all of these field notes, as well as die notes of die late 1950s and 1960, were typed by a stenographer onto 13 by 24 centimeter McBee Keysort cards. The 120 bordering holes were cut out for subject matter, roughly following the Human Relations Area Files' category numbers as codes, which, however, were substantially reworked for easier retrieval. A great deal more could be recorded by using dictation and much time was saved by having someone else do die typing. Having such help, however, meant no additional information from my memory could be added to the field notes away from the field after 1960. In the summer of 1966,1 returned to Sardinha witii a Norelco 11-centimeter (4-inch) reel tape recorder. Certain kinds of 33 notes, however, were still recorded in speedwriting on the clipboard pads and carbons. The transition to modern tape recording was still not complete. [I.D.l.b] TAPE RECORDING In the late 1950s and 1960, a spring-wound second-hand Nagra tape recorder with a limited set of 13-centimeter (5-inch) reels of tape was part of die field equipment. This fine recording instrument was used only to tape music—the festival songs and choral chanting of the 1957 Pepye, the 1958 Pepkahak, the 1959 Kheetuwaye, and die 1960 Fish festivals, and the morning and evening casual sing-dancing. This high quality recorder was never taken to die Apanyekra villages, because such visits were limited in duration and number during that period. Thus, it was poindess to risk the possible damage of muleback transporation. In 1957 a small tape recorder tiiat ran on a battery pack was part of my equipment. The use of this recorder was limited by die unreliable supply of the large, unconventional batteries it required, but some old myths and vocabulary words were collected on it nevertheless. [I.D.l.c] PHOTOGRAPHY My photographic equipment during die early period (1957- 1966) included a 35 mm Leica, as well as a 54 mm film size Rollieflex. Thus there are a limited number of photographs in color and in black-and-white in both sizes. In 1963,1 took two rolls of 35 mm film of the Canela two days after their forced removal to Sardinha from their native cerrado lands. Only slide copies remain in the national collections, because die originals were sent to the head of the Indian service to fulfill a promise I made to him in the field. The same photographic equipment was still used in 1964,but I began to take more 35 mm photographs (all color) than 54 mm ones (all black-and-white, this time). My lack of practice with filming equipment before going to the field in 1957 is evident in the early films. There are short, poor quality films of the Pepye festival in 1957, the Pepkahak festival in 1958, and die Keetuwaye festival in 1959 taken with a second-hand 16 mm Bell and Howell. In 1964, considerably more use was made of the 16 mm movie camera than in the late 1950s. In 1966, traveling light, I used only the 35 mm camera and relied more on 35 mm colored slides. [I.D.I.d] RORSCHACH TESTS In the late 1950s, I used my Rorschach training and wrote die protocols as projected by a dozen Canela who sat witii me for 34 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY this purpose for an hour to two at a time. The work was disappointing. In my opinion these protocols were almost useless because of our inability to transmit details of description and shades of meaning into each other's languages. Consequently, the administering of these tests was not continued in die 1960s and 1970s. Some other psychological perception tests were also admini­ stered in the late 1950s. They were given to me by a psychologist for experimentation in the tribe, and were oriented to test for various aspects of subject-perceived closure and nonclosure. The results were not reliable due to unsatisfactory communication. P.D.2] Last Five Field Trips, 1969 and the 1970s State-of-the-art technology plays a significant role in fieldwork metiiods, especially in long term ethnology. In the 1980s—well after my last entry to the field in 1978—it has become possible for etiinologists to take small video cameras and portable personal computers with them as annotation equipment. Sometime in the future, presumably, we will take portable machines to die field that wiU transform speech to typed notes and enter tiiem into personal computers at our field study locations or even send die information out by radio. [I.D.2.a] NOTE-TAKING In 1969, a 4-speed Uher tape recorder was part of die equipment. Field notes were taken on a 13 centimeter open reel at the slowest speed, linguistic phenomena were recorded at an intermediate one, and chanting was taped at a higher speed. This proved to be a clumsy procedure, which resulted either in sections at different speeds being recorded on the same reel or in the need to change reels frequently. For writing, large Brazilian folded pages (25.1 cm folded by 31 cm) with a carbon between the folds replaced the clipboard. These pages were placed on a smooth wide board as a writing surface, supported on a table made of tied sapling poles. This became the local state-of-the-art fieldwork desk, which was first used by the linguistic missionary. "Space" pens took the place of pencils. These ordinary looking pens, which had been developed for the NASA space program, used ink that would not become blurred in water, could write through a small amount of natural skin oil and perspiration on the paper, and could even function upside down (while I worked in a hammock) because the flow of ink was forced up against gravity by air pressurized cartridges. In 1970, advances in technology had made it possible to change from open tape reels to the kind of cassettes and conventional battery-run small recording machines still in general use today (though still smaller "micro-"equipment exists). Cassettes could be changed quickly and easily with a major shift in topic or activity—such as from singing to note taking. For my last three field trips I relied fully on the use of high quality, 120-minute tape cassettes, two copies of which were made at die same time. If only one copy was made, another one was dubbed later so that there were always two separate copies. These separate sets of cassettes were sent back to the Smithsonian on different shipments, and during a long field stay, the products of the earlier months were sent ahead separately. There was a "daily record" series of cassettes used for moment-to-moment observations and thoughts, and a "research assistant council" series, which shifted month-to-month with the topics under study by my council, such as festivals, kinship, Nimuendaju restudied, and key words and concepts. At my research assistant council meetings, I followed digressions in our discussions by shifting cassettes rapidly to pre-sort die subject matter into major categories. The long-term research assistants were not disturbed by such activities. This proved to be a useful procedure because it was easy to slip the daily record cassette into the machine for miscellaneous information, replacing the principal cassette for the main topic of the day, or one of the otiier three or four side-topic cassettes. The final annotation development during die 1978-1979 trip was to take notes in modified speedwriting on die large folded pages, with carbons in between die folds, at the research assistant council meetings. Not too long after, I put these notes onto tape with elaborations, while the notes were red penciled for additional questioning at the next appropriate research assistant council meeting. This procedure became necessary because the meetings were producing so much significant and difficult material. It was necessary to think carefully about tiiese data between meetings. During the study on key words and concepts, it proved best to work only in the mornings with research assistants and to spend the afternoons considering and taping the morning's work and preparing for the next day. During that period I spent evenings on recording, translating, and studying myths and on the song conservation program. [I.D.2.b] STUDY OF COLORS In 1971,1 took Munsell color chips to both the Apanyekra and the Canela. These rectangular slips of paper represent dozens of color gradations throughout the visible color spectrum. Although the sample of individuals tested was probably not sufficient for a quantitative study, I nevertheless collected a considerable amount of material on how both tribes make their color distinctions and intermediary judgments. These data are in my office at the National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution. NUMBER 33 [I.D.2.c] PHOTOGRAPHY AND FILMING By 1970, only 35 mm cameras (Nticon and Nikhormat) with several lenses and color fdm were being used, except during the census when I used black-and-white Polaroid film to photo­ graph famtiy groups before each house. A new kind of equipment entered my fieldwork array in 1974-1975. A Super-8 soundless camera was used principady to fdm festival activities, life cycle rites, and log racing or track events. I considered this footage "field notes," and never intended editing the fdms. The village houses and the post buildings were also filmed in this manner during every return visit during die 1970s, and still photographs of all houses were taken in every vdlage. (The photographic record of village houses and their activities began in 1964.) With a Super-8 camera, my procedures for "covering" a festival were most fully developed. First, I studied and memorized what was going to take place. I did this by rereading Nimuendaju (1946), by reviewing my notes of previous performances of die same festival, and by asking my research assistant council to reconstruct die coming day's festival activity. Then, while the festival was in progress, I spoke quietly into the tape recorder, giving a description of what was taking place. I also filmed some of the action and took 35 mm photographs of certain occurrences. During important singing, it was occasionally necessary to return to the carefully positioned recorder to make certain the music was being recorded at die right level. Later, during the middle of die day, h° no festival act was in progress, I invited die principal actors to my research assistant council meeting and asked them to tell me their dioughts about what had been going on and why they were doing certain diings one way or another. Of course, die objective was to determine as nearly as possible what they had been doing, because neither my eyes, nor the Super-8 filming, nor the 35 mm camera photographs could cover all of the detatis and purposes of the activities. (During 1978-1979, a Super-8 sound camera was used, a Chinon 506 SM XL/Direct Sound.) In future fieldwork a portable sound video camera would be helpful, but such equipment was not readily available in 1978. The video tape could be played back to die principal actors and me research assistant council for tiieir assistance in answering any significant questions. [I.D.2.D] RECORDING CHORAL CHANTING AND INDIVIDUAL SINGING The techniques and equipment used to record chanting and individual singing were the same during the 1978-1979 trip, except that the sdent Super-8 movie camera was exchanged for one tiiat recorded sound so that some of the films on festivals 35 are accompanied by singing. The National Human Studies Film Center of the Smithsonian lent me a superior Nagra tape recorder (Figure 19, left rear; Plate 69/). With that instrument I spent a considerable amount of time recording on-going festivals and sets of songs performed in the evenings specificaUy for my recording. I spent many evenings recording the singing of individuals— both festival chants and individual songs people sing during work. It seemed easier to extract the words later from recordings of one person singing rather titan when a group was chanting. This record of individual singing was called the "song saving series." The purpose was to record a large number of songs for later Canela use and retention. A junior sing-dance leader, die younger Tep-hot (Plate lOg), volunteered to help this song conservation program. He used one of my cassette recorders to tape his own singing and that of certain senior sing-dance masters. He did this to save the songs from both sources for posterity, and so tiiat he could learn and remember die songs himself. Some day tiiese recordings and most of the Super-8 film footage (which wid have to be put on video tape) may go back to the Canela. These materials may help them conserve their festivals and life cycle rites. [I.D.2.e] CLOTHING My complete fieldwork attire consisted of tennis shoes, swimming shorts, and a men's shoulder-strap carrying bag (moko) shaped Idee a modern Western woman's purse. Outside of the vdlage, however, a cloth or straw hat was advisable for protection from the sun. In the 1970s I could wear Japanese- style open sandals made in Brazil of some very durable plastic material instead of tennis shoes, because witii the arrival of outhouses, Westerners did not need protection against scratches, punctures, and infections inflicted by die scrub country bushes outside the village. Nylon swimming shorts (boxer style) were preferable because they could be washed while batiiing so much more easdy than most otiier materials. I did not wear a shirt except while wadcing between vdlages,or when going out to the farms, and then only as protection from the sun. In the late 1970s, when some of the diary writers wore short sleeve shirts—a self-selected mark of their self-imposed rank—I still went around the village without a shirt like most of the Canela, except for occasions that caded for a more formal outfit, such as visiting the Indian service post. [LE] Learning the Canela Language In 1957, tiiere were no sources from which to learn die Canela language before arriving in the tribe. Nimuendaju 36 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY (1946:33) lists seven published vocabularies but only four of these were somewhat helpful: Nimuendaju, 1913 (55 words); Snethlage, 1924:187 (399 words); Abreu, 1931:201 (200 words), and Pompeu Sobrinho, 1930:17 (798 words). The orthography, the phonetic spelling, and die meaning attributed to words in these vocabularies are very confusing, except for Nimuendaju's. His samples, however, are too few to be of much assistance. Olive Shell (1952) reconstructed a posthu­ mous grammar left by Buell Quain, but it contains a considerable number of unresolved fieldwork alternatives, which make it difficult to study. In addition, the level of its presentation is elementary. When I arrived in Barra do Corda, the former Canela Indian service agent, Olimpio Cruz (Figure 7), gave me his notes on Canela words and phrases, which were quite extensive (-500). However, the orthography and phonetic spelling were often misleading (Cruz, 1972). Only Nimuendaju had a good enough ear and training to transform a significant part of his phonetic materials into phonemic representations. Thus, it was necessary to learn the language directly from the Canela, diough they could neither analyze nor explain it. Becoming conversant in the language, however, was not absolutely necessary for carrying out reasonably good field- work, since many men spoke Portuguese at least to some extent (cf. Melatti, 1967:10). None of the more modern Timbira ethnologists (e.g., Arnaud, Chiara, Da Cunha, Da Matta, Lave, Melatti, Newton, Schultz), except for Nimuendaju and Quain, have attempted seriously to learn the languages of their tribes. I came to enjoy studying the Canela language during periods of relaxation. When trying to take a siesta in my hammock, I studied Canela words in the context of phrases. Learning the language gave me much satisfaction. Anotiier reason I felt compelled to learn Canela was that the likelihood of misunderstanding a research assistant speaking in Portuguese was very high—in fact, certain to occur—to an extent not realized at first. Efficient and reliable communica­ tion that did not require cross-examination and double- checking was assured only when the younger Kaapeltuk (Figure 51) became a well-trained translator-interpreter. [I.E.1] Phonemic Contrasts I first discovered a phoneme not identified by Nimuendaju when I was staying in Barra do Corda in 1957 before going to die tribal village of Ponto for die first time. While working with the first chief, Kaara?khre (Figure 18), who had come to meet me, it became obvious that the words ko (water) and kho (digging stick) were in contrast. While an aspirated palatal/ velar stop does not exist in German or Portuguese, it does occur in English, so it is easy for a speaker of English, knowing Portuguese, to hear this distinction. A significant breakdirough came in 1960 while visiting Rio de Janeiro. The rhytiim and phonemic writing of certain words were elusive, so I explained the circumstances to the veteran SIL specialist Sarah C. Gudschinsky. She suggested the investigation of a potential phonemic relationship between long vowels and short consonants or between short vowels and long consonants. Subsequently, I found that long vowels were in phonemic contrast with short ones. It is important to mention this phenomenon of phonemic contrast in vowel length because it has not appeared in die writings of any Timbira ethnological specialist. Jack Popjes of the SIL, who arrived among the Canela in 1968, confirms die existence of this phonemic contrast and uses it in his publications (Popjes, 1974). Many Canela words cannot be heard, written, or pronounced accurately witiiout the use of this contrast between single and double vowel length. [I.E.2] Time Spent on Language While learning the Canela language was not necessary for good field research in die late 1950s, I nevertheless made efforts to learn Canela better and practiced it as a pastime during my various stays. I could not put a priority on learning the language because of the urgency of developing the ethnological materials. In the late 1950s, my sense of urgency was exacerbated by political uncertainties [I.C]. Nevertiieless, I worked at building up lists of sentences with one unknown expression or construction in each and tiien memorizing mem. This work was the main focus of my field studies during the fall of 1959 and in the winter of 1960.1 spent a long period on die morphology—maybe two months—in the summer of 1964. During the fall of 1969 I practiced grammatical forms (frames) using learning tapes, and during die summer of 1970 this technique was continued with examples supplied by Jack Popjes. By this time, studying die manuscript translations [I.F.I] of die younger Kaapeltuk gave me greater fluency in reading and tiierefore in speaking and understanding. Diary tapes (cas­ settes) made regularly by Kaapel and Kapreeprek (Plate 69a) relating die news of die tribe after 1970, when I received them in Washington, D.C., furtiier helped my proficiency. The 1974-1975 trip was to have been my last field stay, so little work was done on the language during that period. It was not until the winter and summer months of 1979, tiierefore, when certain fieldwork "requirements" had been completed, that a priority could be given once more to linguistics. At that time I was focusing on cognitive studies which supplemented the current work on dualism. It had become obvious that the semantic fields of many words did not have die same referents as in English or Portuguese, but rather had areas of overlap and areas of noncorrespondence. After studying a considerable number of such words with the younger Kaapeltuk, it became clear that certain misunderstandings and faulty translations NUMBER 33 37 were regularly taking place. Hearing the Canela usage of Portuguese for many years furnished clues to the semantic areas of noncorrespondence between presumed equivalent Canela and local Portuguese terms. Furthermore, my learning Canela provided the opportunity to develop a research assistant as sensitive and trained in translation as the younger Kaapeltuk, an unestimable aid to my understanding the Canela, as well as tiieir language. An example of these noncorresponding terms is die use of the Portuguese word culpa (blame, fault). When the Indian service agent said that he had put die blame on Kupaa (Kupaa tern culpa), the Canela thought that Kupaa, specifically, was excluded from being blamed by die agent—the opposite of the agent's intent. The expression ku ?te ?pro is believed by die Canela to mean ele tern culpa (he is to blame). But it actually means in Canela, "he is covered up." In this case, it is understood that Kupaa is not to blame, implying that someone else is gudty; he is "covered up" (shielded, protected) by die agent's words, whether or not he is believed by any party to have actuaUy committed the specified fault. My words and concepts study became a source of greater satisfaction than any other materials collected during my 64 montiis in the field. This study, and the related analysis of duahsm, seemed to be die final and principal research product of learning some of the language—I will never say "having learned the language." [I.F.1] First Three Writers [LF] Diaries and Tapes During a period of 16 years (1964-1979), some 78,400 pages of manuscripts were written by Canela research assistants [Ap.2.e] [Ap.3.a]. Over a span of ten years (1970-1979) two Canela "spoke" their diaries onto 120-minute tape cassettes, which amounted to one to two cassettes a month. The manuscript activity began in 1960 when I suggested to several research assistants that they write some daily diaries. I did not expect them to continue after my departure in September 1960. However, Hawpuu, about age 32 in 1960 (Plate 70/) [I.G.6], was writing an account of his life and die tribal occurrences in 1963, during die Canela messianic movement. His manuscripts were burned as a result of die July 10 attack on the Aldeia Velha village, during which three Canela were killed. These writings would have been invaluable as records of die movement. This loss was a factor in my motivating Hawpuu and others to write manuscripts on a regular basis. In 1964 when I returned to live with the Canela for five montiis, Hawpuu and two others, the younger Pu?to (Plate 68a) [I.G.5] and the younger Kaapeltuk (Plate 69c) [I.G.4], began writing manuscripts for me according to a precise plan. They wrote three pages a day in Portuguese. The younger Kaapel, however, wrote two pages in Canela and tiien translated them into Portuguese on the following day. Hawpuu, die younger Pu?to, and the younger Kaapeltuk had been taught to write in Portuguese between 1944 and 1948, at the Ponto village Indian service school by their teacher, Dona Nazare. They did not write very wed in 1964, but dady practice soon made them accomplished and fast writers. This was never really die case for Pu?to, however, who to the last days of die project in 1979, wrote so conscientiously and witii such concern about the beauty of his handwriting and thoughts that he could never become more efficient. He was a natural poet. The diarists were free to choose their own subjects. The diary writing was an informal projective test; it was most important not to ted die writers what to do otiier than to give them the required number of pages to fill with their personal tiioughts and major tribal events. These were the two subjects of concern to me and therefore the only points of instruction to them. Because all three had worked as research assistants in 1959 and 1960, they knew what interested me. Thus, they were somewhat directed by the nature of our earlier contacts. After 1960, when my research interests required older persons with memories of the first and second decades of die 20th century, Hawpuu and Pu?to no longer worked for me as research assistants. They were too young to know the materials I was seeking. The younger Kaapel, die youngest of the three, became more of an interpreter for older Canela than a research assistant. While I was there from 1958 through 1960, Kaapel worked for me daily as an interpreter, teacher, and research assistant. Hawpuu and Pu?to worked with me considerably less, and only intensely in the winter of 1959-1960 as research assistants. Pu?to, however, was an "uncle" so we had a personal relationship. Whether working witii me or not, he often used to accompany me down to the stream to swim and bathe at the end of the day, where we discussed all sorts of matters as uncle to nephew. In 1969 when my second wife Roma visited die tribe and was adopted by die family of me first chiefs wife's mother, Hawpuu became my in-brother-in-law (being the chiefs wife's brother) and I was consequendy his out-brother-in-law [III.E.3.a.(l)]. Thus, the relationship with all three of them became close. Special work was necessary to improve Kaapel's writing abilities, because he had no conception about writing phonemi- cally in his own language. By the 1960s, I was writing Canela almost phonemically in a script provided by Kenneth L. Pdce (1947). Kaapel, about 28 in 1960, learned diis system with some difficulty because it was hard for him initially to conceive that letters are arbitrary symbols expressing a range of sounds. When he internalized this idea, he became an excellent and very precise phonemic writer and was able on several occasions to quickly use new sets of symbols to agree with die changes in the orthography of the SIL linguist in 1968, 1971, and 1974 [II.B.2.b.(3)]. Kaapel was very concerned about making mistakes. What 38 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY would his people say later when Pep's (Crocker's) book appeared if his teacher taught him erroneously? So he was very careful. At first he tried to translate Canela words into Portuguese quite literally, word for word, using the same word order and sometimes even translating individual syllables. Little by little he learned to translate whole phrases and sentences freely into what he considered to be good Portuguese (i.e., good Maranhao backland Brazdian). He did not achieve this writing skill until die early 1970s. Later, he became very capable at working with aural material that required the translation of a general idea, paragraph by paragraph, such as translating myths and war stories. For this process, he would listen to one tape in Canela and translate it onto another in Portuguese [Ap.3.b]. In 1975 through 1979, this more general verbal approach was necessary in order to cover a great deal of mytiiical material in a limited amount of time. Kaapel's written translations of the late 1960s almost always made sense, but his word order was close to die Canela sequence so that he provided an excellent Rosetta Stone for individuals learning Canela. A dedicated linguist could learn a great deal by studying Kaapel's manuscripts written over many years. [I.F.2] The Manuscript-writing Program The three writers, the younger Kaapeltuk, the younger Pu?to, and Hawpuu, were paid for their work, and consequently, the activity of writing, which was already held in great respect among the Canela, became even more prestigious [II.B.3.b]. The writers wrote persistently, with an almost unbroken record of production from 1964 through October 1979—a remarkable achievement. While the pay was never enough to relieve the writers from having to put in annual farm plots to support their families, it did enable them to buy certain items from backlanders or Barra do Corda residents and to employ other Canela to occasionaUy do simple services for them. It was clear that the wives lticed this extra money. The motivating factors for the program were regular extra money, personal interest in the activity, and a desire to do this job for me. I obviously had to receive, comment on, and be appreciative of tiieir products, which required great conscientiousness and patience on their part. In addition, die personalities of Hawpuu and Pu?to were ideal for this sort of work. Hawpuu was a natural ethnologist, interested in almost everything diat was going on, in die reasons why people were doing one thing or another, and why certain events were occurring. In the 1970s, I added a third instruction and suggested that the writers insert an ampoo nd? (what in: why?) as often as possible into their manuscripts. Hawpuu was the most consistent of the five writing in the 1970s, and later of the 12 writing in 1978-1979, in putting this request into practice. Pu?to, about 36 in 1960, had similar personal characteristics and inclinations, but differed from Hawpuu in his focus. Pu?to was less concerned about observations of other people and why tilings occurred and more interested in reporting his own feelings about events. He did this in a dramatic and even magnificent way. I will never forget the experience of sitting in my Smithsonian office one evening and reading about how my Canela uncle, Pu?to, was out hunting one day when he saw a game animal slip out of sight into a deep hole in a stream. He wrote how he dove after it only to find himself becoming tangled in the cods of a large sucuruju (anaconda: a large water-living constrictor). The snake bit Pu?to's right wrist so diat he had to reach for his machete on his belt at his left side with his left hand to pull it out of its sheath, an awkward feat at best. But he succeeded in cutting the snake's head, which was clinging to his right wrist, using his machete in his left hand (he is right handed). The serpent let go of his hand and also relaxed its coils around Pu?to's legs. He then described die blood in die water and how he went home to take care of his wound. In contrast, Kaapel, though he was loyal to the work in the 1960s,became impatient with it in me mid- to late 1970s. It was no longer a challenge. As a translator and cassette recorder, he received more pay than the rest, but sometimes he did his work too rapidly, and tiierefore without depth. As the leader of die younger Lower moiety age-set, however, he knew more about what was going on in the tribe than any of the other writers and included such information in his writings; therefore, his accounts (and translations) of tribal activities were by far the most complete and reliable. He lticed to narrate his semipolitical antagonisms against otiier Canela individuals onto tape so that recording often must have been quite therapeutic. An additional motivation for Kaapel was certainly the position of leadership that managing my manuscript system gave him. During one period of several years he collected die manuscripts and cassettes from the other writers and recorders and distributed the pay. My relationship with Kaapel was surely the closest. We had a number of personal talks, and tiiere was a lot of joking between us—sometimes about his love life. [l.F.2.a] ADDITIONAL WRITERS OF THE 1970S In 1970, two new writers were included in the manuscript- writing program, Kapreeprek and die younger Tep-hot, ages 22 and 31, respectively. Kapreeprek (Plate 69a) had not been taught by Dona Nazare in the mid-1940s. He was one of the sons of chief Kaara?khre—a middle son. Later, in about 1981, he became the chief of the tribe in place of his father but was soon deposed [Ep.2]. Kapreeprek had had special training [II.B.3.d] while he was growing up, having spent two years studying in a Catholic convent in Barra do Corda and some other years living in a similar convent in Montes Altos, about 220 kilometers to the west and close to the Ge-speaking Krikati NUMBER 33 39 Indians (Maps 1, 2). Later, Kapreeprek spent a year with the Brazilian Army in Sao Luis, the state capitol. Given all this training as a young man, by 1979 Kapreeprek spoke the best Portuguese of any person in the tribe, except for those several young Canela males who left to live permanently in large cities during the Canela hardships in the dry forests at the Sardinha post [ILB.2.g.(9)]. While the younger Kaapel could communi­ cate superbly, his Portuguese usually was ungrammatical; his tenses, persons and word orders were often wrong. Kapreeprek not only spoke correcdy,but also had an extensive command of urban Portuguese, as well as the backland variety. The second newcomer to the writing team, the younger Tep-hot (Plate 70g) [I.G.I] had been taught to write by Dona Nazare\ He was also a uterine brodier to my adopted sister, Te?hok [I.A.2], and therefore a brother to me. He was one of the sing-dance leaders of the younger generation and, tiierefore, quite prestigious in his own right [II.D.3.i.(4)] [ILF.l.a]. It was for Kaapel and Kapreeprek in 1970 that the diary tape technique was introduced. As well as manuscript writing, they began to make diary tape cassette recordings. Each of them was given a tape recorder to use and an appropriate number of cassettes. At first, four hours of recording (tiiat is, two 120-minute cassettes) were required each month. Their assignment on tape was the same as on paper, namely, to speak about their personal lives and about the activities of the tribe, giving reasons wherever possible. Both had worked widi me so they knew my vocabulary in Canela and tried to adapt their usage to mine—a practice I had not asked them to adopt. I did, however, ask them to speak slowly, and we did practice this together several times. The results were that I can understand a high percentage (-90%) of what they are saying on the tapes. In 1970, pursuant to my request, the amount that all these writers were writing was reduced so tiiat if they wrote in just one language, they were writing only every other day. Kaapel, stiti the only translator, wrote two pages one day in Canela and two translated pages in Portuguese the next day. Kapreeprek and Tep-hot wrote three pages every other day in Portuguese. In 1975, two more writers were added to the program, Yaako (Plate lid) and Kroopey (Plates 69b, lOg), ages 21 and 37, respectively. At this same time, Hawpuu and Tep-hot were assigned to writing in Canela and translating, as Kaapel had been doing. The two new authors wrote only in Portuguese, luce Kapreeprek. Yok (age 28; Plate lOd) and H66ko (age 21; Plate lib) joined the program in 1976, the former writing just in Portuguese and the latter just in Canela. Pu?to and Yaako [Ep.5.d] began writing in Canela and translating, and Kroopey [Ep.2] began writing just in Canela. In 1978 and 1979 three more writers entered the program— Koyapaa, age 20 (Plate 70a), son of the younger Kaapeltuk, Yiirot, age 17 (Plate 69a), and die younger Krooto, age 43 (Plate lOg). Yiirot was a young married woman, who had been taught recently in the post school by Risalva. (Yiirot carried on an extramarital romance by letter with another manuscript writer, and these romantic contributions have been archived.) Thus, in 1979, when 12 writers had joined die program, 5 were translating, 4 were writing just in Canela (including Koyapaa and Yiirot) and 3 were writing just in Portuguese (including Krooto). [I.F.2.b] POLICIES AND PAYMENT PRINCIPLES The writers were paid according to certain defined principles mutuady agreed upon. The base pay was calculated to be double what a regional backlander would pay another backlander to work as unskided labor on his farm,but the time employed was set at two hours a day for the writer (more than needed) instead of the usual eight spent by the hired hand. Translators received twice the base rate because of their greater skill, as did tape-speakers due to their greater responsibdity. The organizer of the writers group received an additional sum because of his responsibility and additional time spent on the job. In 1978-1979, we held writers' meetings to review these principles that had been instituted in 1970. At the first of these meetings, Kapreeprek was elected to be the group organizer, replacing the younger Kaapeltuk who had had this role from the beginning. Some of the money was used by writers to hire others to do work that die individual writer would have done if he had not been writing. In this way die money was more widely distributed. [I.F.3] 1979 and the Future These manuscripts may some day become biographies or autobiographies, or parts of them may be published as accounts of what it is like to live in such a tribe. In any case, they are important records on acculturation and personal psychology. At a meeting on salvage antiiropology at the Smitiisonian in 1966, Professor Claude Levi-Strauss said that extensive personal accounts written by natives of various parts of the world would be of considerable value some day in more effectively reconstructing the cultural fabric of the writer's society. His statement was a significant factor in motivating me to continue and expand this program of manuscript writing. (For a study on Interpreting Life Histories, see Watson and Watson-Franke, 1985.) [I.G] Special Research Assistants If any section of this book arouses treasured memories, it is this one, because of the fascinating and rewarding relationships with long-term research assistants. This section describes their relationships with me as research assistants and them as individuals representative of their tribe. 40 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY Ages of individuals are accurate to the nearest tiiree years above the age of 60, to the nearest two years above the age of 30, and to the nearest year and a half below 30 as of 1970. Estimates were developed while talcing censuses during tiiree or four different years. Determining ages was accomplished largely by correlating birdis, or periods such as childhood or adolescence, with dates of earlier village occupations and known events such as die massacre of me Kenkateye (1913), the great drought (1915), the first arrival (1929) and last visit (1936) of the ethnologist Curt Nimuendaju, the deaths of chiefs, and the presence of a series of Indian agents. P.G.1] The Younger Tep-hot My first special research assistant was the younger Tep-hot (Plate 70g), a brother in the family into which I was adopted two days after arriving in the larger Canela village of Ponto (population 265). He was about 18 in 1957 and a member of the younger Kaapeltuk's Lower moiety age-set, which graduated in 1951 [III.C.3.a]. Tep-hot was also a ko-?tum-re (water-old- dim.: a disciplining "corporal") for die Pepye novices (an Upper moiety age-set) of that year. Since he could write to some extent, my "sister" (also his sister) Te?hok called upon him to keep me company and teach me things in the first few days after my arrival. I remember writing down word lists with him and checking some of the published vocabularies, photo copies of which I had brought with me. He was especially clean-cut in appearance, and later, when his hair was cut short, he could have passed for an American college fraternity stereotype, if he had been wearing the right clotiiing. I remember Tep-hot as being very spontaneous. When I tried to write down a phrase of what he was saying, he could not slow his speech, so it was necessary to let him repeat die sentence rapidly many times while I took down a little of the sentence each time [II.B.3.b.(l)]. Tep-hot had been one of the six students who learned to read and write to some extent from the Indian service school teacher, Nazare, in the mid-1940s [II.B.2.b.(2)]. As such, he was somewhat sought after by other Canela to write notes to backlanders to obtain goods or services. He became a maraca sing-dance leader [II.F.I.a] and belt-ratde handler (Plate 53a), and later die honorary sing-dancing chief of the current novices [H.D.3.i.(2).0j)], the Upper moiety age-set of Koham, which graduated in 1962. In 1959, outside the village of Baixao Preto, I was summoned in the middle of the afternoon to come with my antivenin kit to give Tep-hot injections. He had been bitten in the right hand by a ratdesnake. Most of the Canela in die immediate area (Pombo stream farms; Maps 3, 7) had assembled—several dozen—to see what was going to happen. One or two individuals a year were usually bitten by poisonous snakes, and they sometimes died or were maimed. Khruwa-tsu (arrow honor-belt), the snake shaman (Plate 25/,m, the ear piercer), who was in his mid-60s, was there before me, treating Tep-hot. Khruwatsu and I were on good terms, and tiius he welcomed me, so I just sat there, watching. After finishing his curing procedures, he stood up and walked over to a small tree and put something into a cleft in the bark. I later retrieved the object, which was merely a small piece of folded paper—my note paper. It was then my turn to be the curer, and by this time I had boiled my equipment and was ready to inject the serum. A tourniquet had been placed above the wound earlier. I made die injection into his upper right arm and stayed to watch die symptoms, should it be necessary to give additional injections, which were not necessary as the victim recovered. Tep-hot was always a good friend as well as a brotiier. Although Tep-hot was my first research assistant in die village, he was never a regular one. His comings and goings were too uncertain and he was not as clear and knowledgeable in his explanations as most of the other research assistants. In 1970, however, I did accept him as a daily manuscript writer [I.F.2.a], and so had much contact witii him during the 1970s. A special memory of Tep-hot is the image of him sitting on the edge of die plaza writing his manuscripts in full view of everybody else. Kaapel did this sometimes as well, but none of the other writers chose to write so consistently in such conspicuous places. I used to wonder why Tep-hot needed to proclaim his status and abilities so obviously because every­ body knew which people were writing for me. During the winter of 1979, he initiated an interesting process. He asked me to lend him a tape recorder so that he could approach die older sing-dance leaders. He wanted them to sing for him in die evenings so that he could record and tiien learn their songs. In this way he could increase the number of songs he could sing for the tribe to sing-dance to during the coming years. I lent him a recorder with the proviso that he let me make copies of his tapes [Ap.3.e.(2)]. In fact, I left a tape recorder with him with extra cassettes at the time of my last departure. I hope Tep-hot did a good job. An outstanding item in the 1984 communication from die tribe was that it was Tep-hot who denounced Chief Kaara?khre in 1981 or 1982 and thereby forced him to resign as chief [Ep.2]. By this time the Lower moiety age-set of the younger Kaapeltuk had taken over the role of the Pro-khamma [III.D.2.b.(l)], replacing the age-set of the older Kaapeltuk. Thus, Tep-hot's role as a member of die opposition moiety was quite appropriate, since Chief Kaara?khre was die head of the Upper age-set moiety. In 1987 he became die chief of the tribe for a few months, but lost his position while away in Belem to the younger Kaapeltuk [Ep.3.b]. Except for the younger Kaapeltuk, Tep-hot was die best counter in the tribe, whether counting die number of people due to receive portions of meat, how many individuals were away from die plaza life working in tiieir farms, or how many blocks of brown sugar each recipient was to receive. In NUMBER 33 41 the 1970s he demonstrated this ability to count the recipients of retirement benefits in the plaza before the elders, so I suspected tiiat he was already running to become the chief some day. [I.G.2] The Older Kaapeltuk In the summer of 1957, not long after my arrival in die village of Baixao Preto, the older Kaapel-tuk (bacaba-black: a fruit), who was about 47 at that time (Plate 10b, Figure 50), became the next research assistant. He was the deputy commandant (Glossary) of die Lower moiety age-set that graduated in 1933 and the head of the whole of this moiety for Baixao Preto. He had been the keeper of Nimuendaju's (K6-?kaypo: water-across) horses and, therefore, was confident of his ability to relate to ethnologists. He was also the outstanding commandant (me-?kaapon-kate) of die novice age-set of 1933 tiiat Nimuendaju depicts so vividly in his description of die Pepye festival (Nimuendaju, 1946:182) of that year. Moreover, his Portuguese was quite good (among die top half dozen), and he could explain things clearly. In those early days I gathered much information from the older Kaapeltuk about what roles my predecessor had played in tribal life. This information helped me find my own proper role among the Canela. It was unfortunate diat Kaapeltuk could not spend more time helping me, but he was employed by die Indian service and had to work around die post and its farm during the daytime. Kaapeltuk insisted I have lunch with his family instead of my own, and, since he was the very imposing chief of Baixao Preto, mere was no resisting him. It was good for me to have mis daily access to another family and especially to Kaapeltuk himself, even tiiough their food was unhealthy. Almost everything that could be fried was fried in babacu nut oil—one of the few flavors tiiat I found undesirable, even sickening. Whereas my two principal families in Ponto and Baixao Preto were clean in tiieir handling of food and what tiiere were of dishes and spoons, the older Kaapeltuk's wife's (Irom-kree's: forest-three) household was not. (In 1976-1977 this was Madeleine Ritter's (1980) family.) One noontime period while resting in a hammock after lunch in Kaapeltuk's house, I overheard a classic situation. The Canela were hungry for meat: me hatii (they meat- [specifically]-hungry), die special term for such hunger. A-?prol (generalizer in-parallel), Kaapeltuk's son-in-law, had bought a calf. He bought it with his salary from the Indian service. I heard die older Kuwre (slippery), A?prol's wife, begging him to kill the animal so that everyone could eat, but he would not give in. She then went to her mother's fatiier, Y6?he, and complained bitterly against her husband. The old man called A?prol hootsi (stingy, evil) several times. This condemnation was too much for the young owf-son-in-law [III.E.3.a.(l)] of the house to resist. The calf was killed that afternoon. This hunger made it difficult for die Canela to raise cattle. Members of this family are mentioned many times by Nimuendaju (1946:118, 124, 127, 132, 148, 236, 239). Iromkree was the ubiquitous Khen-taapi's (hill to-climb) sister, Kaapeltuk her out-brother-in-law, and Yo?he was her father. Chief Kaapeltuk enjoyed playing a role for me similar to that which he had carried out for Nimuendaju. In the 1950s he used to come for me in Barra do Corda with horses and mules to take me and my equipment back to his village of Baixao Preto some 57 kilometers to the south (by map measurement: Map 3). There were usually about a dozen self-chosen Canela who would accompany such a trip to gain something, if only food. On 21 May 1959, when we stopped at noon on the second day of the trip in the cerrado not far from a family settlement, we heard chickens cackling and pigs squealing excitedly. To my amazement, the group knew just what was happening and raced, not to the settlement's houses but down along the stream's jungle-shrubbery edge, to intercept the anaconda carrying away a pig to the relative safety of the stream's waters. I followed to find that die snake had reached the stream and was submerged with its prey. Seeing it below the surface in the water, the Canela waited for it to emerge to breathe, at which time one person shot it in the head with a shotgun. The anaconda (Plate 15a) was killed instantly. When its coils loosened in death, its dead prey was released and washed downstream. The snake's coils did not relax completely but remained caught in the underwater branches. With considerable effort we were able to haul the 4-meter constrictor out of the water, centimeter by centimeter, all pulling on it one behind die other. The progress was slow, but the catch was a great coup for hungry Indians. They butchered it tiiere in the grass, carrying home only the intact tail and the meat for lengthy boiling. It was tough and tasted like lobster. After the killing of such a snake, the kdler sings a special song during most of me night, with the anaconda's tail hung behind him from a staff held level across one shoulder, to impart die anaconda's strength to die villagers. He trots and walks across die village plaza again and again at varying angles (kdd-kookhye: plaza-splitting) each time, going down and back different radial patiiways [ILF.l.c.(4YJ. I had little contact with die older Kaapeltuk during the 1960s. When die tribe was forced from die cerrado onto the dry forest reservation of the Guajajara (Tenetehara) Indians in 1963, he took a much smaller group of his followers and moved away from the tribe, living in the village of Sardinha (sardine). He founded die setdement at Baixao dos Peixes (land-basin of-tiie fishes) about 11 kilometers to the south (Map 3) continuing the tribal schism between Ponto and his Baixao Preto. Our contact with each otiier resumed more intensely than before during my 1978-1979 stay, after he had retired from his long-held full-salaried job (about 40 years) with die Indian service. He was die first Canela employee of the Indian service. 42 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY The older Kaapeltuk did not work well in groups. He was too used to being an unchallenged leader, as the commandant of his age-set, the opposing Baixao Preto chief of the 13-year tribal schism, and die nominal leader (me-?kaapon-kate: tiieir- sweep-master) of the Pro-khamma in the Escalvado village. In fact, I wondered if he would work at ad with his named-nephew, the younger Kaapeltuk, my exceptional trans­ lator-interpreter. Fortunately he did, much to the credit of die younger Kaapeltuk, who treated him with unusual respect and consideration, catering to his substantial ego. These two research assistants formed the basis for my Saturday research assistant council meetings, which often included Tel-khwey (jussara-woman: a palm tree) (Plate 73a), one of the informal leaders of die women. Under this arrangement, we met in me mornings and afternoons on most of die Saturdays during the course of a whole year and became very good friends. The older Kaapeltuk was very precise and rather inflexible once he had taken a stand on an issue. Thus, it became quite a challenge for me to somehow prevent him from taking hard positions. Much of the work we did required careful considera­ tion and reconstruction of the past on his part, so his first thoughts were not necessarily very accurate. The role he lticed most was checking the research assistant council work of die previous five-day week, which we did die first thing in the morning. Anything even slighdy doubtful I brought to the attention of the older Kaapeltuk and Tel-khwey for comparison, letting him think he was resolving the matter. My reconstruction of the Regeneration season moiety activities comes mostly from the older Kaapeltuk. He also remembered, better than any otiiers, the rite tiiat the slayer of an enemy alien goes through upon his return to the tribe. This fine natural leader's greatest contribution to my research, however, took place in the summer of 1979. As a result of pressure from the Indian service in Barra do Corda, the younger Kaapeltuk had said he would not work for me any more. This was at a time when only he could handle die materials I was studying, die cognitive data of the words and concepts study. His resignation would have been a great loss. However, at the urging of the Pr6-khama in a formal evening session which the older Kaapeltuk led, the younger Kaapeltuk continued to work for me for the rest of my stay. [I.G.3] The Older Miikhro My next research assistant might have been the most important one of all, if I had been more aware of what was going on in his life. I have referred to him, the older Miikhro, as the old Ramkokamekra-Canela "library." If anyone was my "grandfather" in the early days of my fieldwork.it was die older Miikhro. He was my naming-uncle's naming-uncle. He was about 77 in 1957 and had been the age-set file leader (Glossary) (mam-khye-?ti: in-tiie-lead-[ahead] pull aug.) of the Lower moiety age-set which graduated in about 1913 (Nimuendajii, 1946:91). When I first arrived at Ponto in 1957,1 was told to go and learn things witii old Miikhro; but he lived in Baixao Preto, a second and smaller Canela village about 6 kilometers to the north. I waited until I could stay for a long visit during the fall. Then I spent many hours witii this kindly old man who, with the exception of the younger Kaapeltuk, spoke the best Portuguese in the tribe. Miikhro was probably the first Canela to really appreciate what I intended to do as an ethnologist, and he was very encouraging. He saw, unlike the older Kaapeltuk, that I was going to "dig" more deeply into Canela life than had Nimuendaju, so he wanted me to come around to his house for instruction at any time and was not really concerned about being paid, which amazed me. He simply felt the responsibility to pass on die knowledge of his Canela heritage and ancient materials to a serious student of his culture. I never encountered these characteristics again in either Canela tribe—the sense of responsibility and the lack of concern about pay. These personality traits may have been vestiges of earlier times. Miikhro was insistent that I tape his traditional stories, especially tiiose about Awkhee, Brazil's Emperor Dom Pedro II (1831 to 1889). In tiiose days small tape recorders were not very advanced. I had only an elementary cartridge tape recorder that ran on scarce and unconventional batteries [I.D.l.b]. Milkhr5 insisted on recording in Canela, saying that I would understand it eventually. Doubtfully, I complied and now have 10 small reels of very precious materials, which I do now mostly understand. Unfortunately, he died before much could be learned from him, but I treasure his memory. Only rarely is a research assistant so kind and so supportive almost immediately to a novice etiinologist. I went to him frequently for special pieces of information, particularly confirmations. He seldom served as a principal research assistant, because I was expecting to take advantage of his great knowledge after I had learned enough general ethnography. In the meantime, I was working with younger, less knowledgeable research assistants. In the early spring of 1960, he actually asked several times to work regularly with me as others were doing, but this plan, unfortunately, kept being put off. When his wife died, only then did I turn to working every day all day widi him to enlarge my understanding of Canela general ethnography. But it was too late. He was too devastated by die loss of his wife, and widiin six weeks he too was gone. (Both had tuberculosis.) One special experience I shared witii old MITkhro, on 3 September 1959, was a slow walk of 6 kilometers between the villages of Baixao Preto and Ponto (Maps 3,7). The objective was to pass by whatever old village sites there were in that area, and to tadc about life as it existed in those days while looking at specific house locations. I thought this would improve his memory, and it certainly did. We stopped at six old village sites (KroQ-re-?khre (boar-dim.-hollow/house); Khwek-hu-re-?te; NUMBER 33 43 A?khra-?kha-?tey (it's-masses surface hard [two of this name]: Escalvado); Kupaa-khiya (edible-vine's oven); and Pye-ntsom- ti (earth-granular-aug.: greatly sandy). He identified almost every house spot in succession in one of die villages, telling me who lived there and what they used to do. He was particularly able in telling me about the two Escalvado villages that had been occupied in the 1890s and up until about 1903. It was during this period I believe die Canela had an interesting cultural climax [II.B.l.c]. The older Miikhro was between the ages of about 10 to 24 during diat era, die best period for clear memory for most Canela according to my observations. The remains of bom of tiiese villages have been defaced and dispersed by the two modern villages in the Escalvado area,but it was still possible to see, measure, and take notes on die remains of the second old village site in 1969, as well as on that walk with Miikhro in 1959. On another occasion (16 May 1960), MITkhro took me on a walk to Chicken House hill (H6-tsct?tsa-?khre: feather- chicken-house) to obtain azimuths with my compass on various other old village sites throughout the region, and of course, we talked about village activities in each of tiiose areas. MITkhro is the source for most of the early tribal history recorded in this book [II.B.1]. [I.G.4] The Younger Kaapeltuk During my four to five montiis witii the Canela in 19571 did not have any "empregados" (employees); as they say; diat is, any research assistants with whom I met on a regular basis. My first research assistant of this kind was the younger Kaapeltuk [= Kaapel] (Frontispiece, Figure 51, Plate 69c,f), who had been away—out in the world (no mundo)—during my stay in 1957 [II.D.3.i.(l)]. In 1958, this younger Kaapeltuk came to me a number of times, asking to become my empregado, but I could not see just how I could use him on a regular basis. He was about 28 in 1958 and was die commandant of die entire Lower age-set moiety in Ponto. He had been the deputy commandant (Glossary) of the Lower moiety age-set that graduated in 1951. There were six regular Canela Indian service employees3 who received salaries at the level paid in Barra do Corda, which was very high for the backlands. "Kaapel" (nickname of the younger Kaapeltuk) felt that he should be one of these employees because of his ability to use Portuguese with backlanders and urban Brazilians and because of his responsi­ bility as the leader of the Lower age-set moiety in die village of Ponto. Kaapel had had some sort of employment, which had been cut off by the the Indian service agent, because of his inconsistency in appearing for work at the post. This happened during the time of KaapeTs last Pepye internment, when he was me full commandant of the novices. He was trying to reinstate himself in the eyes of the Canela through obtaining employ­ ment from me. He also needed funds because his position of leadership required that he be generous with his followers and provide them with lunches when they carried out group work under his direction. I did employ him (but at a considerably lower rate than die Indian service paid [I.F.2.b]) to spend the mornings helping the Indian service teacher instruct the young students at the post and to help me in the afternoons. This worked out well for some time, and the Indian service teacher, Doca (Raimundo Ferreira Sobrinho) was pleased. Eventually Kaapel helped me all day except for two hours for lunch, study, and resting. This employment continued to the end of my 10 field stays. Beyond 1959, Kaapel was employed as a research assistant for linguistics and as a translator-interpreter when I was interview­ ing other much older research assistants. Kaapel is an unusual person, besides being the key to my long-term research, so it is important that his complete history be presented. He was born about 1930 and is a direct descendant of one of die two great chiefs, Major Delfino Ko?kaypo (Nimuendaju's namesake), of the cultural climax period around the turn of the century. I became aware very early in my relationship with him that he was aware and proud of his chiefly descent. As a boy he was made a Ceremonial- chief-of-the-whole-tribe (Glossary) (one of two) for a Pepkahak act, the Apikrawkraw-re, which automatically made him die highest hdmren (Glossary) in the tribe [III.C.7] [IV.A.3.c.(3).(e)]. This honor, including its responsibilities, continued when he became the father of the Ceremonial-chief- of-the-whole-tribe. His son, Ko-yapaa (water-bridge), followed him according to the ceremony's traditional patriline succes­ sion. These honors required that he not be stingy. For instance, in business, which involved managing a store, he had to be generous with credit and not press for payments due him. As a ceremonial leader, he had to back away from die issue if individuals refused to cooperate. This role suited the younger Kaapeltuk, rather than taking a strong stand as a political chief would be likely to do. His life patterns were considerably modified by his role of honor, die obligations of which he took very seriously. When I arrived, Kaapel was the best speaker and writer of Portuguese in the tribe. One of his children had just been named Kupe-?khln (civilizado-likes: he likes backlanders). Kaapeltuk was a principal spokesman in favor of things Brazdian [Ep.4.b.(2).(e)] as was his naming-uncle, the older Kaapeltuk, to a lesser extent. Kaapel had attended die classes of the Indian service's school teacher, Dona Nazare, at the post in die mid-1940s [II.B.2.b.(2)]. He received his start in reading and writing and his general knowledge about Brazil from her. Kaapel, nevertheless, spoke Portuguese following the Ge manner of thinking, not having learned it as a child. But he had learned to use gender, number, and certain tenses in die Portuguese manner—sometimes—which most Canela could not do at all. Outsiders have to guess at the sex and number of persons a Canela Idee Kaapel was referring to in Portuguese, since in 44 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY Canela, nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and verbs do not have forms that reflect gender or number. These are expressed through the addition of separate indicators. In 1949, at die age of 19, Kaapel was sent witii one other student, Hakha (age 20) to live in Sao Luis, the state capital with the Indian service personnel [II.B.2.b.(3)]. He went to school in die big city and worked on a farm, where he first learned about fertilization and irrigation, which were not used in the interior. Kaapel loved die experience and claims he would have stayed there much longer, but after a year and a half, Hakha had to go home; so they both were sent back to the Canela lands. This experience encouraged Kaapel to travel to large coastal cities [II.A.3.a.(3)] [II.D.3.i.(l)]. On one of these trips, however, he was in the back of a truck that turned over and was almost killed. He believes his life was saved by the powers of die santo (a picture of a saint on a card) that he had with him in his pocket at the time [II.B.l.c.(3)]. This experience may have been one of the contributing factors in his becoming a sort of fodc Catholic priest to the Canela in the 1970s [Ep.4.b.(2).(e)]. In the mid-1950s, in what was probably one of the last arranged marriages among the Canela [III.F.4.c], Kaapel married Atsuu-khwey (age 24), who was a member of the largest longhouse (Figure 24) [III.E.2.e.(2)]. They have a number of chddren and grandchildren. Following the tribal custom, however, Kaapel is known as a great lover because of his extensive and numerous affairs, a reputation of which he is proud. In working with me, Kaapel has been outstanding in his endurance, conscientiousness, loyalty, and reliability, as well as in his intelligence and his great sensitivity to shades of meaning when clarifying words, concepts, and points of view. He did not have tiiese abilities at the beginning of his work for me. I remember well how he used to want to tell me things, going on for hours on his own experiences or on topics that were of little interest to me. He also jumped from one topic to anomer when I wanted him to expand or deepen his information on the topic of my choice. He got tired and bored easily and wanted to leave for long breaks. It was almost impossible to lose him, however, and little by little I managed to train him into an excellent research assistant, able to respond to die particular needs of the study in progress. The realization that he should tell the trutii for his own good came about in this manner. When I was checking Nimuendaju's (1946) monograph, "The Eastern Timbira" and found that some items were inconsistent with what Kaapel knew, he assumed tiiat Nimuendaju's helpers had "lied" to the author. This was a point I had worked hard to establish—that they must not lie—because it is a Canela custom to tell outsiders lies. This way of giving information ("lying") was more fun for them; and outsiders, tiiey thought, could not really understand Canela matters anyway. Kaapel did not want to be in this shameful position himself later on when someone else came to die Canela witii my book. Thus, he decided diat he had to tell me the whole truth and began to insist that other Canela research assistants do die same. One of my great delights was when I heard him telling other research assistants in the group in Canela not to he but to ted me the whole truth [III.B.l.b.(3)]. (This is obviously the origin of the epigraph of this monograph.) As my principal helper, he would receive the blame eventually, even if they did not, because everyone would know who had taught me. In fact, jealous individuals already were accusing him of lying to me. Thus, after die initial period when I used to let Kaapel and others talk about almost anything they wanted to tell me, I slowly developed a procedure so tiiat we could study specific topics. Then, Kaapel became very effective in bringing research assistants who had digressed back to the main point. I asked die questions in Portuguese, and he repeated them in Canela. Then, I listened to them debating the question in Canela, and finady Kaapel told me tiieir conclusions in Portuguese. In this way, the reliability of communication was considerably enhanced [Pr.2]. In 1958, the Canela made me a sort of ceremonial chief, the category of which has never been clear. In this capacity, diey wanted me to intervene in Kaapel's marital life to convince his wife to let him return even though he had been paying a great deal of attention, even publicly, to a very young unmarried virgin. After one attempt at this kind of diplomacy, which failed, it seemed best not to "intervene" again even if I were asked to do so. It was better to observe, and tiiereby learn, dian to participate and thereby introduce my initiatives into die Canela cultural equation. Working as my master research assistant/manager was not the only way in which Kaapel helped me. When we were in Barra do Corda, he ran errands and facilitated my relations with the group of Canela who inevitably came to town to obligate food and goods from me during the earlier stays, arrivals, and departures. The Canela had little control over their possessions in those days or, more correctly, over their desire to be generous [II.B.4]. Their fear of being considered stingy was too strong to resist the firmly expressed demands of others. Therefore, I always had to do the buying myself, which meant getting up at dawn to buy fresh meat before it all had been sold. By 1960, however, Kaapel became strong enough, or convinced enough about the Brazilian ways of doing things, so diat he could resist die "begging" of his friends and relatives [III.B.l.a.(3)]. Subsequently, I could send him with a long shopping list of items and die money necessary to purchase them. After such a foray into die market place, he used to return to me very proudly with all the purchases for his people, with the list of die items added up by die vendor, and with the exact change. Carrying out such a task witii precision—to the centavo—became a new experience for the Canela which a few others emulated (Kapreeprek [II.B.3.d]), but Kaapel received die prestige that goes with a first performance. During part of October 1960,1 lived in Barra do Corda in a small rented house where all my purchased artifacts of the past years were stored. Kaapel and Atsuu-khwey (his wife) came to NUMBER 33 45 stay with me during this period to work on the artifacts— repainting certain ones with urucu and mending others—before tiiey were shipped to Rio de Janeiro, Belem, and die United States. In die Canela kinship system, Atsuu and I were not related, though I was a distant relative to Kaapel. Thus, Atsuu was permitted to call me by my name, Pep, and joke with me as a classificatory husband. This joking relationship continued all during tiiat stay, as it did with otiier unrelated women trying to copy her joking style. Consequently, these last days among the Canela as a doctoral candidate were when most of my data on sex-joking were recorded [III.E.3.a.(6).(c)]. During the year before die messianic movement of 1963, Kaapel had led a number of Canela families in planting large farms in the Aldeia Velha (village old) region. For a while he had become a kind of chief, almost supplanting the leading political chief, Kaara?khre. During this time the Canela enjoyed an economic surplus, which tiiey had not experienced since about 1947 [II.B.2.b.(l)], and it was Kaapel's strong leadership that made this return to temporary self-sufficiency possible. However, when the prophetess, Khee-khwey, achieved her ascendancy, commanding everybody to dance in order to bring about the millennium she had predicted, all the political chiefs gave way to her authority. Later, she ordered men to search for and kill backland ranchers' cattle to keep die dancing cult going. When her principal prediction proved to be erroneous, Kaapel came to her rescue and helped her reformulate her messianic prediction [II.B.2.f.(2)]. Thus, the movement received new strength and enough support to carry it over two more montiis. Kaapel had again assumed a position of ascendancy. When 40 to 50 of tiieir cattle had been slaughtered, the ranchers attacked the Canela to stop the attrition of their livelihood. By July 10, their intentions were clear and die younger Kaapeltuk had posted sentries far out from their principal village of that period (Aldeia Velha) (Map 3,7). He obtained a supply of arrows from the ravines of the low chain of mesas about 9 kilometers to the south. Thus, when the main force of about 200 ranchers and paid gunmen attacked, die Canela were well prepared. Once they saw die approaching enemy, Kaapel ordered die women and children to move rapidly along a narrow passage over a stream and through a dense diicket, which led them into a forest (Map 7), while five Canela, including Kaapel, held off the attackers at the mouth of the passage (passagem). Thus, it was the younger Kaapeltuk who masterminded and led this very successful defense of his people [Ep.4.b.(2).(c)] and who mereby incurred the unmitigated wrath of the ranchers and die suspicion of Barra do Corda residents and Indian service personnel. When I arrived a few days later to find die Canela already relocated by the Indian service on the Guajajara Indian reservation at the Sardinha post (Map 3), everybody I had spoken to in Barra do Corda was verbally hostile to Kaapel. They were unaware of Khee-khwey's role in the messianic movement as the prophetess, except for Olimpio Cruz who was in charge of the Indian service in Sao Luis at this time. This old friend of the Canela had heard about Khee-khwey dirough his dependable Canela contacts and had warned me about her role in the matter when I was passing through Sao Luis. After a two-week stay with the Canela, I was able to convince the Indian service personnel in Barra do Corda that a messianic movement had indeed occurred. I also emphasized mat Khee-khwey rather than Kaapel was the charismatic leader of die movement and tiierefore die more responsible of the two individuals for the situation. My arguments eventually exoner­ ated Kaapel in the eyes of the Indian service personnel, and they invited Khee-khwey to spend a long period in Barra do Corda at their expense to keep her from predicting new millennia. The principal anger of the ranchers, however, still fell on Kaapel, and I believed that his life would be in danger if he were to move around in the backland ranching communities or even the farming ones, as had been his practice. Certain Barra do Corda residents had believed that die Canela, in their defense, had wounded one backlander with an arrow so tiiat he eventually died. They also believed that the backlanders were holding Kaapel responsible for this deatii. To alleviate this situation for Kaapel, I wrote letters to die leading ranchers in Jenipapo and Leandro (Map 3), both of whom I knew personally from my 1960 studies of their communities, to try to explain the nature of a messianic movement and that it was now discredited. That it was Khee-khwey rather tiian Kaapel who had been the principal instigator and leader was, however, die main point of my communications—attempts to make Kaapel's life a little safer. During my long stay in 1964,1 also warned Kaapel not to visit the rancher communities and even the local backland farming communities near Sardinha Idee Oriente (Map 3). He was not in danger in the town of Barra do Corda. Because Kaapel was a close friend and key research assistant, I knowingly stepped out of the role of a pure field researcher and into the guise of a concerned person and applied anthropologist to help assure his safety. In 1970, two years after the Canela had returned to their cerrado homelands, I was traveling back from die Apanyekra and stayed with Kaapel at the Sitio dos Arrudas (Map 3), die most prestigious and feared ranching community in the region to the west of die Canela village of Escalvado. Kaapel still felt very uncomfortable there and stayed close to me. This was not very different, however, from 1960 before the attack on the Canela, when I had traveled to die Sitio to carry out my mapping of the region and to continue a socioeconomic census study of backland communities. On that trip Kaapel and anodier Canela were most fearful of the Arrudas; they had never been there and tiiey constantly talked about their anxiety during the trip. Although the Canela lived almost continuady in backland communities in simple family groupings during their lean economic months (September through December), they 46 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY seldom if ever bothered the feared [II.B.l.d.(2)] Sitio dos Arrudas people. While Kaapel, like the older Kaapeltuk, managed some trips for me, most of my traveling with horses and mules in the backlands during the mid-1960s and die 1970s was managed by Yoo-khen (garden-food a-littie-bad) (Plate 13b), the vaqueiro (cowboy) for the Indian service post, and others. By die mid-1960s Kaapel, consequendy, distanced himself from me except when he was carrying out his principal job as translator-interpreter. For instance, it was difficult to get him to help me on the spot during festivals and council meetings, even tiiough he was the best at these roles. As soon as a new activity was made avadable to him to perform during festivals, however, such as independently tape recording an activity (Plate 69/), he was the first to want to do it. I tiiink he did not want to be seen as my "shadow." He was definitely his own man. Thus, his contact with me became limited to his roles of translator-interpreter of my research assistant council, writer of manuscripts, and speaker of diary tapes. The role he lticed die best and carried out superbly, however, was the first of the three. In this role he often managed individuals who were members of the Pro-khamma, 20 years his senior. By the mid-1970s, it was very clear that Kaapel had developed a deep faitii in fodc Catholicism (Glossary), a faith that had been growing through the years. It first manifested itself in his treasuring of his Santos in 1958, certain cards with colored pictures of the saints or of die Virgin Mary. By 1975, he, in die guise of an incipient priest, was holding what might actually be called a religious service for his people on Good Friday evening until midnight. I was not aware of his doing this in Sardinha or in Escalvado at an earlier date, though he must have started in Escalvado some time in the early 1970s. I had not been among the Canela for a Good Friday since 1964, and furthermore Kaapel was not open about his participation in this event [Ep.4.b.(2).(e)]. In 1975 on Good Friday night, he opened die front part of his house for the Canela to come into as if it were a chapel. They could kneel there while he was singing over and over Ave Maria Chiia de Graca, and otiier chants of the Catholic Church. He was officiating as a priest before an altar—not trying to say or celebrate the mass, but acting out the role of a priest in many otiier respects. This commenced at about 8:00 PM and continued until midnight, while die Pepkahak songs were being sung in the plaza, presenting a strange mixture of the new and die old. According to the folk Cadiolic tradition of the backlanders, the Canela believe diat Christ is dying on die cross at this time and diat their performance at this service and tiieir prayers are needed to save Him from His deatii. By midnight this danger has passed and the Canela rejoice in the plaza by firing off many shotguns. The intensity of the evening is brought back to me when I remember my brother Hawmro's (hearth) wife, MIT-khwey (alligator-woman), almost dragging me to Kaapel's service. I would have gone later anyway after completing some work, but she wanted to be sure I attended the service for the safety of my soul. She showed such signs of distress at my resistance that I realized I had to go then. While Kaapel would work on Sundays in the 1960s if I considered this necessary—such as when I was about to depart—he would not even consider working for me on Sundays in the 1970s. He believed diat working on such a day (Sunday: amkro-lkhen: day a-little-bad) was wrong in that it was against God's commandments. Moreover, God was not always watching out for his people on Sundays so that the Devil just might catch a person and harm him, and Kaapel was not going to be that person. It was touching that he cared for me enough so that he tried to influence me not to work even by myself on Sundays. As a result I tried to limit my work on such days to reading, and I attempted to convince him that reading was not work and could be a pleasure. During both my 1974-1975 and 1978-1979 stays, I occasionady collected dreams from my research assistant council members. This was often done as a diversion when they seemed to be bored with the material we were covering. Kaapel related a dream in 1979 in which my house in Barra do Corda was being washed away by a rising flood, but the Indian service house, which stood on higher ground, was not being reached by the high waters. (I had had a small house in Barra do Corda in 1959-1960, and in the winter of 1960 die Corda River had flooded into the town to some extent, not affecting my house, however.) In any case, Kaapel interpreted his dream to mean that my influence in the tribe and over him was being washed away while that of the Indian service was remaining firm. They all knew I was leaving for the final time before the end of the year (though I would return for a visit 10 years later). Kaapel, however, may have felt my imminent departure more keenly than others because of his long, close association and employment with me. Almough his writing of manuscripts and speaking onto tapes was supposed to continue in my absence, he knew he would miss the greater income and prestige that was based on my intermittent presence. He hoped that the Indian service would finally give him employment and a far larger salary, so tiiat the Indian service agent would become his patrdo in my place. This would be a more permanent and continuous supporting relationship, and in fact this is what happened during the year following my departure. (For Kaapel's experiences in 1987, see [Ep.4.b.(l),7].) [I.G.5] The Younger Pii?td The next regular research assistant, employed in early April of 1960, was the younger Pu-?to (urucu-sticky), who was about 34 years old in 1958 (Plate 68a). He is a member of the Upper age-set moiety and Chief Kaara?khre's age-set. (The older NUMBER 33 47 Pu?t6, in contrast to this younger one, is noted many times by Nimuendaju (1946:199) as a sing-dance leader ["precentor"], and he continued to be one of die best (Plate 41c, foreground) until his death at about 80 in 1972. He was also my narrator of myths in 1970 and 1971.) The younger Pu?to was my special ket-ti, a self-appointed advising uncle, not a name-transmission one [In.4.i], related to me through my Baixao Preto mother, Kroy-tsen (quandu likes-to-eat: a cerrado animal). He took his role very seriously in die late 1950s and used to wade down with me to die bathing place most afternoons after work to chat about things. I enjoyed his company immensely. Often when I was just returning to the tribe after having been away for some time, he was the one who would act out die hddprdl (war leader) role for me, as I was first presenting myself to the Pro-khamma (Glossary) in the late afternoon. He would precede me as we walked up a radial pathway to die plaza, shouting and stamping his feet in the warrior fashion (Plate 37a*). Then when a Pro-khamma came to receive me, Pu?to stepped aside and let the Pro-khamma take my present, usually a machete. I then proceeded into die plaza to be received warmly by the Pro-khamma and die council of elders, shaking hands. Then they asked me to speak to the entire council of elders about what I had been doing while away from the tribe. Questions invariably followed until diey were satisfied. On Easter morning of 1964, my wife Mary Jean and I did not have anytiiing very special to eat. It would have been Idee any other day except that kit-ti Pu?to passed by with a jacu (Penelope sp.) in each hand tiiat he had just killed. These were die best eating birds in the dry forest area. He left one with us and did not ask me to buy it. That made our day. The Canela with tiieir strong sense of needing to receive a payment for everything, rarely gave anything freely. When they did give tilings de graca (for free), diey would invariably come around die next day expecting a "gift." This amounted to forcing an exchange, which to please them had to be in their favor. Of course, as an ethnologist, I almost always had to try to please them. But ket-ti Pu?to did not come around for any "return" die next day or any later day, and that in itself was a rare pleasure for me. The younger Pu?to's role as a regular research assistant was not continued beyond the spring of 1960 because it became clear that in spite of his honesty, he was too "imaginative." Some of my most vivid materials come from him. He did, however, become one of my first three diary writers in 1964 [I.F.I] and continued faithfully in this role for 15 years. It seemed best to spread die advantages of working with me to as many individuals as possible, so my manuscript writers were not employed as regular research assistants. Writing down his tiioughts was an activity that Pu?to very obviously enjoyed, probably more than any of the other writers. He spent a great deal more time on his manuscripts with his beautiful handwriting. I well remember seeing him in 1979 sitting on a racing log outside die post where he had been employed all day, writing as the sun set. He was intensely absorbed in what he was doing, carefully forming each letter. My second wife Roma often said tiiat he had the nature of a poet, and I think she was right. His eventual autobiography, or biography, may one day be the most interesting of all. This poet also has a great memory for stories, which he loves to tell his children, and for the old formal language of die plaza. Apparently, some generations ago the language spoken in the plaza during a formal council meeting was distinct from what was used in daily life. Pu?to still remembers a few of these expressions. He can be requested to chant them while singing around the boulevard when he is in a certain mood. Pu?to is married to a woman who is half Caucasian. We all knew her fatiier, the late Sinduco Maciel of Bacabal, a small backland ranch community about 20 kilometers to the west (Map 3). Sinduco, and especially his brother Alderico, were die leaders of Bacabal (but were under die autiiority of the Arruda family) and entertained me at their festas several times before the attack in 1963. Such fraternization, however, could occur only very casually in the 1970s after die attack. For example, when I happened to be passing dirough Bacabal on the way to visiting the Apanyekra further to die west, the Canela were afraid I would be poisoned (there was a history of this), and tiius, did not want me to eat, drink, or sleep in Bacabal. Memories of the attack were still too vivid. Pu?to, nevertiieless, took his family there periodically, and Sinduco continued to treat him, his own daughter (Pu?to's wife), and his grandchil­ dren very well. The connection was never denied. The grandchildren were distinctly lighter in complexion and more Caucasian in appearance (Plate 16d) than other Canela. The Maciels said they had migrated from the state of Ceara several generations earlier, so it was possible they were related to the Maciel family portrayed in die great Brazilian classic, Os Sertoes (the backhands),by Euclides da Cunha (1973). In 1970 when it became time to choose a family for my new wife Roma, and her three pre-adolescent children, I finady decided on die family of old Ropkha (Plate 176) and his wife. It is not the custom in such matters to ask the old Ropkha directly, so I requested ket-ti Pu?to to do this for me. He came back several days later with a positive response. Pu?to was good at such intermediary missions. Nobody could doubt his good will. When I needed someone on short notice to run to Barra do Corda alone in the night to deliver an important message or to obtain something essential, me choice went first to Pu?to, not because he was my kit-ti but because he was not afraid of jogging alone through die dark and because he was reliable. Many Canela were afraid of running in the dark low forests alone on the way to Barra do Corda at night. Ghosts (karo) might get them, tiiey thought. But Pu?to was strong-minded and courageous. He simply did not care about danger and was 48 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY not afraid of anything. It might be said that he was slightly "mad." In any case, he was a most admirable and lovable person. I could not ask him to carry money, however, because it might be exchanged for cachaga, and then the mission would be lost. [I.G.6] Hawpuu Hawpuu became a research assistant at the same time as Pu?to, in April 1960. He was also a member of the Upper age-set moiety and in Chief Kaara?khre's age-set. Hawpuu, age 32 in 1960 (Plates 41a", 70/), was outstanding because he was the most involved manuscript writer after Pu?to. He was a careful observer and ethnographer, the one who could be trusted to remember to write down information on certain events in my absence. Even though his vision was growing dim, and I had to bring him new magnification glasses every now and then, he still wrote on and on with great concern and reliability. His wife, Wakhee (age 24 in 1960), used to pressure him into continuing because she liked the small amount of extra money they gained through this work. But in my daily research assistant council meetings, he was too young to remember die old times and did not express himself as well as many others. He was employed only as a diary writer, which after 1970 consisted of writing only three pages every otiier day. With die old Ropkha adopting my wife as a daughter, Hawpuu became an //i-brother-in-law [III.E.3.a.(l)] to me and a full brother to my wife. As such, he was a frequent intermediary between myself and other members of her family. He was also often a member of die group that did sporadic jobs for me such as reconstructing my wife's house before her arrival. Later in the 1970s, however, other individuals such as Yookhen (die post's vaqueiro) and Koham [I.G.I5],rather man my manuscript writers were called in to form tiiese work groups in order to spread the benefits. point of view, but he was by far the best in explaining in Portuguese and Canela exacdy what the answer was with all of its hair-splitting ramifications. With Kha?po, my research councd members and I went over Murdock et al. (1961) Outline of Cultural Materials again and proceeded to check Nimuendaju's (1946) volume. Besides Kha?po, several otiier research assistants were involved for the first time, such as die younger MITkhro. Thus, witii this project, several research assistants began working as sources, with the younger Kaapeltuk serving as a translator-interpreter. Kha?po, himself, was gray-haired, very stooped, and wadced with a staff all die time. He spoke in a frail, high pitched voice with very kindly tones. I well remember that he walked die entire 80 kdometers (as die road winds) to Barra do Corda in 1960 to see me off at the airport—a remarkable undertaking for someone his age. Kha?po died before I returned to the Canela in 1963. P.G.8] Pye?khal The most remarkable and memorable person of my 1964 research assistant council was an old woman named Pye?khal, who had an excellent memory of earlier times. It was she who took the place of die older MITkhro and Kha?po. One of the intriguing events of the very early part of these meetings was diat the younger Kaapeltuk persisted in addressing her as a potential sexual partner—using her name, instead of referring to her as a mother-in-law. She was indeed his wife's mother's mother. This was the first clue to one of the affinal relationship system's most crucial points: traditionally, only one woman in a matriline is an "avoidance woman" (i.e., hdtswiyye) to her daughter's husband so diat this avoidance woman's motiier can be free even to have sexual relations with her granddaughter's husband [III.E.3.a.(5)]. Unfortunately, Pye?khal died before my return in 1966, so my access to her memory was limited. [I.G.7] Kha?po Kha-?po (body-wide), about 82 years old in 1960 (Plate lOe), was slighdy older than the older MITkhro, but not nearly as well-informed. After MITkhro died, it was necessary to ask his assistance to complete my work. Kha?po was a younger member of an Upper moiety age-set while the older MITkhro was an older member of the following Lower moiety age-set. Kha?po could not speak Portuguese as well as most of the otiier research assistants, so it was at this time, during June, July, and August of 1960, that it became necessary to use the younger Kaapeltuk as a translator-interpreter in a principal way. Kaapel was not old enough to cover die materials from a traditional [I.G.9] Ropkha With the deatii of the older people, Rop-kha (jaguar-or-dog its-skin), about age 63 in 1964 (Plates lib, lie), became a valuable research assistant, even though he was a generation behind the older MITkhro and Kha?po. The question of what really happened during die age-set group marriage ceremony referred to by Nimuendaju (1946:122) had to be resolved. Ropkha was just die one to do it because he actually was die leader of the Upper moiety age-set mentioned in "The Eastern Timbira." He was also the one who was already married so that the age-set marriage ceremony could not be performed in 1923 NUMBER 33 49 (W. Crocker, 1984a:69). His information, added to die reports of Pye?khal, made it possible to reconstruct the lost age-set marriage ceremony [III.F.10]. While not as insightful as the older MITkhro and Pye?khal, he was very helpful in 1964 and 1966. By the 1970s, his memory was beginning to fade so mat he could no longer participate in my research assistant councils. Since so many of the older members of these groups had died not long after their work widi me, the possibility that some Canela shaman (kay) might think I was killing diem had to be considered. It was therefore important for me to stop working witii at least one of the old people who had been in my council a number of years before his death. Ropkha had first been a member of the preceding Lower moiety age-set, the older MITkhro's age-set, which graduated in about 1913 (Nimuendaju, 1946:91). Ropkha was re-initiated as a novice in the following Upper moiety age-set to be their age-set leader (mamkhye-?ti). Thus, he must have been one of the oldest in his age-set. According to my October 1984 report he was stid alive at about 85, but by 1987 he was dead. Ropkha was die old man that ket-ti Pu?to approached on my behalf in May 1970 to take my wife Roma as his "daughter." As it turned out, he became devoted to us. For her arrival, he prepared a path from the back of his house's area through the closed savanna (cerrado) to the new swimming hole. The new bathing spot had been part of die second old Escalvado village site, occupied by the Canela in the 1890s and past the turn of the century [II.B.l.c]. As in the Pepkahak ceremony [IV.A.3.c.(3)] and in true Canela fashion [III.B.l.f.(l)],he cut it absolutely straight through the cerrado trees and bushes, except for one major turn. This took great effort and precision. The trail, if it were to be straight between the two desired points, had to pass through the old Escalvado village site itself, widi its much taller and thicker trees. This would have been a difficult job to carry out, especially for a man of his age, so he gave the pathway one curved turn, skirting the heavy timber and staying in the far lighter cerrado growth. Not only did he cut us a patiiway (freely done), eliminating the grass as well as the small trees and shrubbery, he made this small road two persons wide so that my wife and I could wade side-by-side as we went to our new bathing hole, which was not the Canela custom for spouses. A wife waticed behind her husband. However, the Canela respected intercultural differ­ ences far more man did the backlanders and even most urban Brazilians. In the kinship work in the 1970s, Ropkha became a key research assistant with respect to one special point, even though he did not meet witii the research assistant council regularly. He was able to talk about what he called his fadier's fatiier's sister's descendants living across the plaza. They all were his "grandparents" (me-nkityi) in every generation, but neverthe­ less, he was an advisor to the younger ones even tiiough they called him "nephew" or "grandson" [III.E.2.e.(3)]. We con­ firmed this kinship pattern by tests several times, months apart and years later. [I.G.10] The Younger Miikhro Anotiier research assistant who came into the group in 1964 was my naming-uncle, the younger MITkhro (Plate 70c), who was about age 47 at that time and a member of the older Kaapeltuk's Lower moiety age-set. I was a member of the name-set [III.E.4] of the older MITkhro, as well as of the younger MITkhro, which may have accounted to some extent for the older uncle's supportiveness. The younger MITkhro was a parallel cousin ("brother") of my "sister" Te?hok rather man her uncle, but she had no "uncle" at the time of my arrival in 1957, so me younger MITkhro was asked to fill the very necessary role of naming-uncle. He performed it in a truly devoted manner, usually calling me when festival duties had to be carried out. He served in my research assistant councils dirough 1976 and died of an infected eye before my return in 1978. As a research assistant in the 1970s, he was willing to discuss shamanism most openly and had the most knowledge of die traditional ways of the shaman. This was crucial because most other research assistant council members had been exposed to the Catholicism of die backlands and the cities, which gave them a more fearful attitude toward the supernatural. Talking alone with me, MITkhro taped a number of hours of conversation about shamanism (Glossary) in Canela. The younger MITkhro also knew more about names and name-set transmission than anyone else. Each research assis­ tant had her or his strong points, tiiough all knew about every other subject to a considerable extent as well. MITkhro had ten names in his name-set, including his MITkhro and my Pep (electric eel, the name of a mythical warrior), and he remembered almost all the ramifications of the Canela corporate name-set transmission system [III.EAc]. There was something sad about Miikhro because he had been born into what had been the chiefly line [III.D.l.h] before the assumption of leadership by Chief Kaara?khre in 1952. He was somewhat noble in his behavior, being hdmren as well as being chiefly, but cachaga (alcohol) had undermined his character in his younger years and even in die late 1950s. His older brotiier was ineligible to be chief because he was a transvestite [III.A.2.j.(5).(a)]. Therefore, the younger MITkhro most probably would have succeeded Chief Hak-too-kot (falcon-chick-green) (Nimuendaju, 1946:161) if alcohol had not weakened him. Moreover, his shamanism would have helped him as a chief [III.D.l.d]. Upon my return in 1978,1 was sorry to hear about the details of my naming-uncle's death through what the Canela believed was witchcraft retaliation. It was generally believed diat he had become a somewhat antisocial shaman [IV.D.l.d.(2)]. [I.G.ll] R66-re-?ho The last new research assistant in 1964 was the son of the older Mnkhro, R56-re-?ho (tucum-litde-leaves: a palm tree). 50 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY He was about 52 years old in 1964 and a member of the older Kaapeltuk's Lower moiety age-set. R6o-re-?ho (Plate 68a") was keenly aware that he was the son of an important Canela and seemed to be trying to live up to his father's position, but his lack of assurance did not permit it. In Baixao Preto in 1960 he became an assistant chief to the older Kaapeltuk, and in the mid-1970s he held the same position for Chief Kaara?khre in Escalvado, but his performance in diese roles left something to be desired. He lacked the understanding and forcefulness to make people cooperative when necessary, so he was not taken seriously. His wife's longhouse consisted of only one house (Figure 24, house 00) , so she had no female kin to rally their husbands to his support. He was much better at being the town crier (me-hddpol- kate: them urge-on master) [II.D.3.i.(4)] than assuming positions of political authority. This role required a big ego, a good voice, and a certain conscientiousness. Most Canela males simply cannot make the personal sacrifices necessary to carry out the job, which requires the news of the tribal council meetings to be sung out so that ad the village can hear about the decision direcdy after the meetings have ended, morning and evening. There are also rare times during the day when die chief, or somebody else, needs to have something crucial announced. Several men (e.g., Hoy, Plate llc.h, and die younger Krooto, Plate 68e) have been painted red and feathered, and honored in die plaza, to place diem in this position. Ad except Roo-re-?ho have failed to continue with the role after several months. The only two Canela who have been able to maintain die role over a long period of time have been Kawkhre through 1964 and Roo-re-?ho since then. Roo-re-?ho had an excellent mind for telling long and complicated stories and mytiis, which he recorded on my tape recorder during many of the evenings of 1975 and 1979 [Ap.3.b]. His mind was definitely single-tracked. In recalling die past, he could follow the life of one person, but \f he had to relate tins life account to otiier lives or events that were concurrent he had great trouble making the cross-connections. Otiier research assistants, and especially Kaapel, were much better at such cognitive tasks. Because of die particular kinship ramifications between us, Roo-re-?ho called me "father" tiiough he was much older. The role of being my son seemed to suit him because he lticed to address me in a very dependent way. He was indispensable during my last trip because by that time few others had his background in traditional matters. R6o-re-?ho continued to be one of my steady research assistant council helpers in 1978-1979 and is still alive today. [I.G.12] Koykhray 1950s), Koykhray, age 56 in 1970 (Plate 71/), was the first (other tiian Kaapel) to learn to write a simple form of kinship notation on the sandy hard ground during research assistant council meetings. I was amazed and delighted when she quickly picked up what I was doing and started to draw notations ltice mine on die ground for all of us to see. Through her, I quickly learned most of what I know about the ideal patterns. Kaapel did not know the ancient patterns. I empiri- cady checked and quantified the variations in the early and mid-1970s and ascertained the reasons for most of me unusual and exceptional variations. It is not surprising that it was an older woman who was most capable in visualizing such patterns. Among the Canela, it is definitely the women who are interested in maintaining kinship practices. (Among die Suya it is the men; Seeger, 1981:127.) It is the women who teach their children what to call their farther-away kin and affines, thus perpetuating the system. Koykhray was not as helpful as others except in kinship, so she was a regular member of the research assistant council only when we studied kinship, which happened often in 1974-1975 and rarely in 1978-1979. With Koykhray tiiere was an added aspect of amusement and delight. She was, by chance, my particular across-the-plaza aunt or grandmother [III.E.2.e.(3)],my Canela famer's sister's daughter (my "sister," Te?hok's, that is). I had been calling her tuy-ti for years, not really remembering why, but when she said I must cad her sons (Palkhre and Maayaapil) and her daughter's son (Kaarampey) "father," it revealed the existence of an extended kinship I had not been aware of up to that moment. I knew to call her brother "father" but the younger male kin of her family had not been calling me "son," although they commenced to do so from that time on [III.E.2.a]. As my important patrilateral relative, she lticed to invite me out to her farm for die day. There she and her daughters fed me very well, with the daughters (all tily-re) joking all the time. Reciprocation was expected for such hospitality and beads were most highly prized. It was only the members of the families with which I actually lived who did not expect relatively immediate returns (hapan-tsd), but criticism and rumors (tswa-?nd) of others limited tiieir requests for excessive reciprocation. [I.G.13] Mulwa During die days when I was puzzling out the more extensive ramifications of the affinal relationship patterns in 1966 and 1970 (the less extensive patterns had been resolved in the late Some of my finest memories are of Mulwa, age 53 in 1970 (Plate 71a), a daughter of the old Pye?khal. As old Pye?khal had been a valuable resource of information to me during the 1960s, Mulwa was during die 1970s. Mulwa was Kaapel's immediate mother-in-law, die mother of Atsuu-khwey, his wife. With total avoidance between son-in-law and momer-in- law being the rule [III.E.3.a.(4)],I had wondered if having her in the research assistant council could work. She was also my motiier-in-law, in the sense that she was my wife Roma's NUMBER 33 51 Canela mother's sister. Thus, I too had to obey only slightly less stringent avoidance practices. We both avoided looking at her and speaking directly to her. Questions could be asked to people in general, and she would answer them. She could never stay alone in the room with us, but there was always one more and sometimes as many as four more individuals in the research assistant council, depending on what we were doing and on who could come to join us on any particular day. There is no doubt tiiat having her as a research assistant did work, and she raised the tone of die group with her dignity, seriousness, and conscientiousness. Her presence also forced Kaapel to perform better. The Canela had told me in the late 1950s mat only a man became a shaman (kay); however, it seems a woman can be a shaman too, providing she maintains the same high level of restrictions [IV.D.l.e.3]. In fact, there are at least two female shamans in Canela mythology (W. Crocker, 1984b:354-356). The men had always said women did not have the willpower to maintain the restrictions. By the 1970s, however, Mulwa had become a shaman and could cure people. Although a shaman, Mulwa was also more thoroughly Catholicized than any of my other research assistants, except Kaapel. Her father had been one of the five Canela youtiis interned for study in die convent at Barra do Corda at the time of the Guajajara uprising in Alto Alegre (Map 4) in 1901 [ILB.I.e.(3)]. Thus she had heard and learned much about Christianity from him. It was especially interesting that in 1975 and 1976 when we were studying the backlands folk- Cadiolicized version of creation and the various steps leading to current times, Mulwa always took the most folk-Camolic point of view even though she was a Canela kay. The only otiier kay in our research assistant group, the younger MITkhro, invariably took the most traditional Canela approach. The odier research assistants fell some place in between the two shamans. Thus, two points of view were usually expressed, but diey thought tiiere should be only one correct traditional answer. MITkhro insisted that a real kay carries out curing or witchcraft under his own authority and by his own power, and diat it has always been this way [IV.D.I.a]. Ghosts were always available to consult, but gave powers only when a kay was learning his craft. After the shaman had acquired his abilities, he carried out his practice completely on his own (amyid-?khot: self-following). Mulwa, in contrast, insisted that nothing could be done without God's will (Pa?pcun-khot: God-following). Ambiguity made them uncomfortable, but we had an interest­ ing time during tiiese debates. I had no contact widi Mulwa outside of the research assistant council meetings, because she was an "avoidance woman" to me. My final memory of her, however, is a vivid one. There she was—radiant and pleasing—as I was leaving by jeep. Her face said: "you have done well." This mother-in-law actually broke into streams of tears (not wailing) and said good-bye to me in a few really spoken words, even though I was one of her sons-in law and a full avoidance man. [LG.14] The Older Tsuukhe I will not comment on several occasional research assistant council members, such as the older Paatset (Plate 69e) and the older Rarak (Plate 71c), because I did not know them well enough. There was, however, one very special person who attended our meetings only in 1979 and only when the subjects of shamanism (Glossary) and hdmren (ceremonial high honor) [III.C.7] were being discussed: die older Tsuukhe (Plate 68c). He was a fine living example of both a hdmren and a shaman. Moreover, he was the traditional ear piercer (Plate 25a). He was about 58 years old in 1979 and a member of Chief Kaara?khre's Upper moiety age-set. Tsuukhe's appearance was unusual. He was gende, soft- spoken, dignified, quiet, and fully aware of what was going on. He appeared to have great presence of mind at all times. There were never any negative witchcraft comments about him as tiiere had been about my kit-ti MITkhro. When he talked, we listened intendy. He commanded automatic respect. Tsuukhe was tall, long faced, beautifully proportioned, and adiletic looking. His fingers were long, dehcate and relaxed. His face was deeply pock-marked and usually sad. When he smiled, aldiough always with restraint, inner satisfaction shone dirough—some would say "love." Besides being kay, Tsuukhe was the head Tam-hak (raw-falcon), that is, the lead man of the King Vulture (urubu reis: Gypagus papa) society (Nimuendaju, 1946:98-99) [III.C.7.a]. Next to Kaapel's son's role of Ceremonial-chief-of- the-whole-tribe, Tsuukhe, as chief of the Tamhak society, was the second ranking member of the tribe in ceremonial honor. Some individuals said he was the first. His appearance and comportment served to remind me, convincingly, that ceremo­ nial positions do affect daily behavior. It was a great pleasure to have Tsuukhe working witii us during the several weeks that he did, and I am looking forward very much to studying his materials in deptii when the time comes to write a monograph on Canela shamanism, magic, restrictions, and other aspects of religion. [I.G.I 5] Koham K6-ham (water it-stands), age about 36 in 1979 (Plate 68/), was the age-set file leader, or guide (mamkhyi-?ti), and tiierefore a low hdmren, of his own Upper moiety age-set which was graduated in 1961. My association with Koham spans my whole period of 22 years among die Canela. When I arrived in 1957, a Pepye festival was in full progress [IVA.3.c.(2)]. I was ceremonially "caught" and interned as a Pepye novice [I.B.I] and, during die closing phase, Koham, then a boy of 14, and I batiied together one morning in order to make Informal and Formal Friendships (Plate 39). We agreed to become Formal Friends and tiius emerged from the water 52 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY side by side and not looking at each other; a ritual symbolizing respect. In a similar way, a younger Tsuukhe (not die one discussed above) became one of my Informal Friends [III.E.6] when we intentionally emerged facing each other. Being respectful of everything or anybody was an integral part of Koham's nature, and this may be why he had chosen to be my Formal Friend (Glossary) ratiier titan another Informal one. Most of the boys preferred to make Informal Friendships. During those early days of some culture shock on my part, Koham was very considerate. He was the youth who marched at the head of our Pepye file wherever we went, and sat with the girl associates and die deputy commandant to eat and rest apart from die rest of the group—a ceremonial elite set. When I obviously needed help, he came over and quietly gave it without my asking for it, unlike the deputy commandant and die commandant who were more severe and aloof. It was easy to ask my hddpin (i.e., Formal Friend) questions about what was going on, and in this sense he was my principal research assistant while the 1957 Pepye festival was in progress. As the age-set file leader (not its commandant), he really knew die procedures better than many of the others and was patient in answering my questions. Most of the other Pepyi (novices) were still boys and oriented to amusing diem selves, but Koham was somewhat older than the average and had to act more mature because of his role. This relationship of mutual respect, trust, and aid continued throughout my period of 22 years with die Canela. It used to surprise me that he took die role so seriously. But Koham was no ordinary Canela. His father, Ro?kahak, was Ponto's greatest hunter in the late 1950s. His mother was Horarak, a handsome daughter of the late Chief Haktookot, so he was a member of the former chiefly family which had led die tribe both before and after die visit of Nimuendaju. He was too young in 1952 to be considered as a candidate for succeeding his grandfather, although Chief Kaara?khre, who did succeed him, came from an entirely different family line and longhouse [III.D.l.g.(l)]. Being a reliable hunter and, therefore, a good supplier of meat makes a man very respected among men and opens access to most women. I was told that many pregnant mothers wanted some of R6?kahak's semen to ensure that their fetuses, if they were male, would grow up to be a great hunter too [IV.B.2.a]. He could not refuse; to do so might have caused a miscarriage and would not have been generous or manly. Thus, Koham's choice by the Pro-khamma as an age-set file leader and, therefore, a hdmren-to-be—they could have chosen any boy of die right age—may have reflected his family background and/or his already respectful and responsible nature. In 1978, Koham was the commandant (me~-?kaapon-kati) of die novices in die Kheetuwaye festival of that year. After the performance each morning, we invited him to our research assistant council meetings to discuss the details of what had taken place. He was so good at reporting—so calm, expressive, and accurate—that I was surprised and kept asking myself why I had not asked him earlier to be a regular research assistant. In 1979, Koham was die file leader (mamkhye-?ti) of the Pepkahak (Plate 44c). In 1979, when I was having some problems with certain helpers, Koham simply appeared one day and offered to help me "cover" the termination of the Pepkahak festival of that year. He was available to move some of my equipment from event to event and to answer immediate questions about what was taking place, and thus came into my employment. He was the one who helped me put the papers in order that otiiers had been writing and compiling, and pack my many books and other kinds of equipment upon forced and sudden departure. He was around my office most of the time and well into the nights of die last two days of my final stay. Because a friend in Brasilia had recently warned me by letter to guard my research materials against confiscation, particu­ larly while traveling on deserted backland roads (i.e., on die way from Escalvado to Barra do Corda), I put copies of my most important materials (e.g., tape cassettes, carbons of notes) in a small suitcase and asked Koham to take it off die reservation to Bacabal 20 kilometers to me west (Map 3), where there was a friend. Koham left with my suitcase on this secret mission at midnight without hesitation. He was protecting his Formal Friend—my work in this case—in a time of danger, and that is the epitome of the Formal Friendship role [III.E.5]. I left for Barra do Corda by jeep die next day. Soon after my arrival there, my Barra do Corda friend sent a jeep to Bacabal to retrieve the suitcase, which arrived the following day. That night at eleven, sooner titan could be expected, I left in a truck for Belem, witii all my equipment and research materials, and arrived tiiere safely the following evening. The memory of Koham's friendship will remain with me for me rest of my life, especially his final act as a Formal Friend. [I.H] Special Friends in the State of Maranhao Once permissions were obtained in Rio de Janeiro on my first trip to Brazil in 1957,1 flew to the coastal city of S3o Luis, the capital of the State of Maranhao. In 1957, die Indian service official in Sao Luis, Moacyr Xerex, received me very well and was helpful in a number of discussions. He was one of die few Indian service personnel widi whom it was possible to taUc anthropology. Dr. Xerex had known Nimuendaju and told a number of stories about this accomplished anthropologist. Dr. Xerex sent me on to Barra do Corda widi an introduction to Sr. Olimpio Martins Cruz (Figure 7) [II.B.2.b.(l)], who was in charge of me Indian service there. Sr. Olimpio had also known Nimuendaju and helped more than almost anyone else by orienting me directly to die Canela with whom he had served for seven to eight years as tiieir village Indian agent at an earlier time (1940-1947). His long service to the Canela was obviously the intellectual and emotional high time of his life. NUMBER 33 53 The only possible higher points have been his poetry and publications on the Indians of Barra do Corda (1978,1982), die Canela and Guajajara. Even though Sr. Olimpio did not remain the head of die Indian service in Barra do Corda for long after my arrival (about two months), he continued to live in a house diagonally opposite die Indian service agency building. (In Plate 2b, die building on the immediate left is Sr. Olimpio's, and the building across the street on the right, up four levels of steps, is the agency of the Indian service.) The Canela often approached him for advice, encouragement, and, of course, a small gift. I first went into the Canela village of Ponto with the support and backing of Sr. Olimpio, tiiereby starting my fieldwork career under his kindly auspices. Every time I left or came back to Barra do Corda (though sometimes our meeting was in Sao Luis or Brasilia), I renewed my relationship wim Sr. Olimpio and his family. He had great intellectual and moral strength, as well as personal depth and understanding, so tiiese visits were immensely helpful. Not only was he an expert on life in the interior, but he was a published poet (Banco do Nordeste do Brasil, 1985:50). Sr. Olimpio was solely responsible for obtaining more than once my crucial Indian service permis­ sions to work among the Canela in 1978 and 1979.1 am most grateful for this help, and wish to stress this acknowledgment, because these were the most productive and satisfying research years of my career. He has become a close friend with whom I stiti correspond. Sr. Antonio Cordeiro, a friend of Sr. Olimpio, helped immensely with the history of Barra do Corda [II.B.4], with the Canela orthography for local Brazilians, and with meteorologi­ cal data. My many thanks go to him for die data of Table 1 and for his friendship. First Canela chief, Kaara?khre, age 36 in 1957 (Figure 18), declared us to be Informal Friends almost immediately upon my arrival and spent two weeks with me in the town of Barra do Corda while final preparations were being made to go into die tribe widi him. He always acted as a friend and supporter in his vdlage (Ponto). He was easy-going and helpful. (For more on Chief Kaara?khre,see [II.B.2.i.(5)] [III.D.l.i.(2)] [Ep.3.a].) The next acknowledgment, and most certainly the greatest of all, must go to the younger Kaapeltuk (Frontispiece, Figure 51), age 27 in 1957 [I.G.4] [Ep.4.b]. He had spent considerable time out of die tribe learning the ways of the city dwellers and he saw himself as me principal protagonist in die tribe for urban Brazilian ways. His Portuguese was much better than the Portuguese of any other Canela at that time, and he understood the thinking of the urban Brazilian better. This book is dedicated to him as a true friend and as the key individual in my field research. I employed Kaapel part time in 1958 and full time in 1959. By die 1970s, I found that no really reliable work could be done without him—my guarantor of accurate communication—and in 1979, sometimes, I even sent my research assistant council away for the day if Kaapel could not be witii us, because our work without him would not be sufficiendy reliable. During the 1960s and 1970s Kaapel kept improving in his abilities as a trained research assistant, translator, and inter­ preter [I.G.4]. He was able to stay on die subject I wanted to investigate and kept the other research assistants on it. We often digressed out of interest, for amusement, or so as not to miss important related items. Kaapel's endurance was incredible. He could work well during long hours, and far into die night, as he often did for Jack Popjes (Figure 11) when Jack was about to leave and when certain linguistic problems had to be solved. In kinship studies, Kaapel occasionally used to run from where our research assistant group was sitting to some other house to find out what a certain person called some other person when such an ego-alter example was a critical point of the meeting. Then he would run back, very pleased witii his findings and tiieir contribution to our research. I never asked him to run on these occasions, but he invariably did. Among the Apanyekra, Kaapel worked for me on special research assignments rather than as interpreter-manager as he had done among the Canela. On one of these missions, he collected extensive kinship materials by questioning people himself. These protocols were among my most prized and proud products of the field. Unfortunately, no field copies were made of this special research, and his originals disappeared with the one and only suitcase that was ever lost in transit. Almost all otiier materials in that lost suitcase were saved because their copies had been placed in another suitcase that was sent and delivered later. My deepest gratitude must go to Olimpio Martins Cruz, the younger Kaapeltuk, and Jaldo Pereira Santos of Barra do Corda. Sr. Jaldo was a fine gentleman and Barra do Corda resident, who lived on die central square of the town (Plate 3b). He first became involved in my field activities in 1964 when I had to take my ailing wife, Mary Jean, out of the field. We were catching the pinga pinga (dropping in at every stop) airplane (a DC-4) for Brasilia die next day, so Sr. Jaldo and his wife, Dona Antonia, most graciously lent us their bedroom for the night so that Mary Jean could be more comfortable. He became my financial representative in the town after Sr. Olimpio had moved to S3o Luis to take charge of the Indian service office there, so I stayed witii Sr. Jaldo and his family whenever in town. Thus, they had my "expeditions" marching through their house, and my equipment and supplies used to pile high in the guest room. On two unannounced arrivals by bus at four in the morning in 1979,1 preferred to stay in a pensdo rather than to disturb them at that hour, but they scolded me for not knocking on their locked door. This very gracious hospitality was also extended to my second wife Roma in the 1970s. We came to know Sr. Jaldo's children as well, scattered as they were with their spouses in Brasilia, Recife, and Fortaleza. We visited them once each, when we passed dirough these cities. Sr. Jaldo saw me as the visiting scientist whom he was helping because of his great sense of civic service. He managed 54 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY my finances between 1964 and 1979 with skdl and great imagination. Even when the situation became more compli­ cated during my 1978-1979 trip, he managed to find individuals who would repair my ten tape-recorders, used for my various programs. When I was with the Canela, I communicated with him through letters carried by foot messengers. He also had his assistant pay die various Canela individuals and famdies I sent into town to receive compensa­ tion in cash or goods. Think of the relief from care that comes to a researcher in the backlands when he knows his financial base in town is safe. It was only because of Sr. Jaldo's authority in the town and concern for my project that the manuscript and tape program functioned so wed over a period of almost 16 years, whether I was in Brazti or die United States. The friendship and assistance of Sr. Jaldo can never be repaid because it was so vast, generous, and open. His famdy's warm hospitality, his competence in handling my finances, and his clearing the way for a safe passage through die politics of die town, were so helpful over such a long period of time that his assistance must be among the most helpful advantages any ethnologist has received in the field. Sr. Jaldo could easily have become the mayor of Barra do Corda, but he neither needed nor wanted to become a politician. He was the power behind several mayors in succession. And during one long period when there was no official judge in the town, he volunteered to take the role unofficiady, and in this capacity he met over a dozen ordinary people's cases each day in his house and resolved diem in common sense ways with his profound wisdom, judgment, and immanent good will; and through their trust in him and tiieir knowledge of his good name. Other members of the Indian service to whom I am deeply indebted are Srs. Julio Tavares, Virgdio Galvao, and Sebasti­ ao Ferreira. I remember Julio best for his companionship and intellectual orientation during my 1978-1979 field trip. He owned several jeeps and a truck and was usually the person to drive me, my equipment, and my supplies between the town of Barra do Corda and the Canela village of Escalvado. During the 2!/2 to 3 hour trip, we used to tadc witiiout stopping—world affairs, politics, economics. He was a natural intellectual. In 1969, Julio flew into the tribal area from Barra do Corda with die emergency plane summoned by Sr. Sidney Milhomem (the local Varig airline agent) from Sao Luis in order to rescue my step-daughter Tara. She had developed an internal infection that was not responding at all to my medicine, and Indian service personnel were not yet present in the still new village of Escalvado. The single-propeller plane needed a person on board who could guide it for 25 minutes to the village of Escalvado because there was no road to follow. However, the village did have a small air strip due to the presence of the linguistic-missionary, Jack Popjes, and his SIL team. Julio came in from Barra do Corda with the plane but had to walk back half the distance (35 trail kilometers to Ourives, Map 3) because there was room for the plane to take only the 11-year-old Tara, her two younger brothers, and her mother. I will be forever grateful to Julio, for without his help the urban pilot of the small plane could not have located the village. Sr. Virgilio I well remember for his war mm and friendship at die Guajajara post of Sardinha (Map 3), where the Canela spent five years in exile after having been removed from their cerrado home in 1963. The Canela called him Poo-vey-re (cerrado-deer old dim.), a term of great affection. He had walked with them in July 1963 during their dangerous march out of the cerrado [II.B.2.f.(5)]. He demonstrated his care for the Canela in his treatment of the Indians through his use of medicine and kind words. I used to enjoy visiting him and his family at the post very much. Sebastiao Ferreira (Figure 9) is Sr. Virgflio's son-in-law and is married to the little girl (Figure 10) I had seen growing up by the Sardinha post. While I did know "Bastiao" (his Canela nickname) as a dedicated male nurse of the Indian service in Escalvado during 1970 and 1971,1 knew him much better as the post agent during my 1974-1975 visit and tiien again in 1978-1979. Ltice Sr. Olimpio, Bastiao really knew the Canela and understood a great deal of their language, though he did not attempt to speak it. He and his wife often invited me for meals at his post house (Map 5,E) and showered their hospitality and friendship upon me. When I hear criticism of the Brazilian Indian service, which is often the case in Brazil and the United States, I tiiink first of Sr. Sebastiao Ferreira and his wife Dona Fatima and tiieir great service in the cause of helping the Canela Indians. Then I think of Sebastiao's father-in-law who risked his life to save many Canela lives in 1963. They are rare idealists but also hard realists and politicians. Jack and Josephine Popjes of the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) were great company in the field. I immensely enjoyed going over to their Escalvado house across the plaza to spend an evening conversing in English on our favorite topic, the Canela. Their opinions were a useful check on mine. Moreover, we have carried out research for each other when one of us could not be in the tribe. In 1979,1 spent two weeks with die younger Kaapeltuk working on linguistic problems for Jack, and between 1984 and 1989 Jack has provided an extensive amount of ethnographic and historical information for me (most of the Epilogue). Sometimes we worked on medical cases togetiier, as when Tel-khwey (Plate 6Sb) had convulsions in 1970. More than any otiier aspect, however, I remember their good company and genuine friendship. When I hear general criticism of the Wycliffe Bible Translators (SIL), I think of the excellence of Jack and Jo. In Barra do Corda, otiier missionaries ran the Maranata School [II.B.4.h] just out of town, known as the Sitio dos Ingleses. It was especially helpful to spend evenings there in my early research years of me late 1950s (sometimes playing Monopoly). I particularly remember the kindnesses of Orville Yontz in the late 1950s and of Jim Vance and his family in die 1960s and 1970s. In 1964, they heard over the public radio NUMBER 33 55 information service from Sao Luis (no telegraph service yet) diat back in Milwaukee my wife had cancer (a false report) and mat I was called home by the Smithsonian to attend her, so they drove tiieir truck out to Sardinha, gave me one hour to pack, and put me on the bi-weekly plane to Sao Luis on which they had reserved the last space for me. As for my Canela families, I am grateful to them and admire mem in many ways. My "sister" Te?hok was an ideal Canela sister, always living up to her supportive role. She never let me go witiiout adequate meals in the late 1950s, though I relied entirely on her ability to buy, trade, borrow, or beg food for me. And she did, unknown to me at the time, beg around die village for meat for me occasionally. She was calm, serious, tiioughtful, loyal, and quiet, and always looked out for her children and die household. She was a very responsible person. On certain rare occasions, she could become somewhat angry but still remain completely controlled. I found it especially admirable that more than once there were marital adjustment hearings [III.D.3.c.(l)] at which she aired her resentments against her husband in a responsible and yet compassionate way. At these well-attended, interfamily official assemblies, she was clearly articulate and spoke in a well-modulated calm voice. Life in her house was particularly amusing because of her daughters, my nieces. The joking relationship between uncle (mother's bromer category) and niece was the warm side of my lonely research months in the late 1950s. I will never forget die day, however, that I tiirew a peeled orange back at one of these nieces and hit my sister instead. Having internalized Canela roles and feelings myself by mat time, I was mortified at having hit my sister. Opposite-sex siblings must maintain a serious attitude toward each other; this is one of the most important roles in die tribe. After this accident, tiiere was total silence and shame, but everybody knew it had not been done on purpose. My other Canela adopted family, which I had to have because there were two villages when I arrived among the Canela in 1957 due to the schism, was structured differendy, so that my relationships with both my adopted brotiier Hawmro and his mother Kroytsen—my "momer"—had to be serious. I will never forget my mother's concern when I was eating fish. She would sit by me on an adjacent mat, afraid that I might choke on a bone, as I almost did in her presence in 1958. She would tiien be the first to slap me on the back and get water or bread. In the house of my brother and his motiier I enjoyed die joking role with my brother's wife, my "wife." Though a Canela does not joke witii the woman who is the mother of his children, he always jokes with his "other wives" (me ?pro ?no: pi. his-wife other: his classificatory wives) [III.E.3.a.(6)]. The relationship with my brotiier's chddren, my "children," was necessarily serious, and I will never forget the care with which my oldest daughter, Homyi-khwey (Figure 22), used to heat my silica gel canisters in a cast iron pot to drive die water out of the salts and thereby turn their color from pink back to blue. For all their care and concern, I thank them. My wife Roma's adopted family was related to the wife of die first chief, Kaara?khre. They tiius took themselves very seriously as role models. There were no joking relationships among them for me, because I was an out-of-house affine. The only joking relationship I could enjoy was with the chiefs wife, my wife's sister, thereby my "wife" (because her husband was my Informal Friend [III.E.6]); but they lived in anotiier house and so were not immediately available. My strongest memories of Roma's adopted family were how well they helped us in cooking. It was easily die best place to eat in the whole village. Also, my wife's mother used to have to tell Roma certain things but could not do this well enough in Portuguese, so she used to speak Canela to my wife, her "daughter," in words that were meant for me to overhear. She could not address me because I was her son-in-law—a full avoidance relationship. Then I used to speak her message to my wife in English so that she could comply with her mother's wishes. My Apanyekra family was structured in die same way as my first Canela family since the principal person in it was my adopted sister, Pootsen. Here again I had a wonderful set of nieces with whom to joke. One had a pet emu (a South American ostrich) and another (an unusually beautiful woman) had a Kraho husband. My sister was clearly the strongest female personality in the tribe, and I was impressed with what she said she called her kin, as she worked with me around die village circle list of names. What she called them was more in line with how she felt about the particular individual than consistent witii consanguinal principles of proximity or distance: kinship behavior (i.e., fictitious). This kinship phenomenon could not be found to a significant extent among the Canela. Part II: Ethnographic Background Among existing lowland South American indigenous groups (Map 1) that have been studied, die Canela are unusual in having retained their tribal cohesion in spite of contact and pacification for more man a century and a half [ILB.La]. Also unlike most tribes situated as far east as the Canela, they have remained intact while others have either not survived or been detribalized or even urbanized. Although pacified in 1814, die Canela were not settled and stabilized in their present location until about 1830 or 1835. Then they experienced about 100 years of regularized but limited contact with backlanders and Barra do Corda town dwellers. In reconstructing their aborigi­ nal culture it is necessary to factor in what might have been innovated by them or accepted from backlanders during die past century. The effects of the cessation of tribal warfare on die sociocultural system have to be viewed in this context, as well as the shift from their principal reliance on food collecting to food producing. My long-term fieldwork makes it easier for these extrasocietal factors to be analyzed to a fuller extent than usual. Besides reporting on extracultural sectors, I describe here what I have called "expressive culture"—life cycle and daily cycle activities, recreation, and material culture—to make die Canela come alive for the reader. In addition, since a principal orientation of this monograph is descriptive ethnography, it is appropriate to include material on how the Canela enjoy themselves and on how tiiey view and value tiieir world. [ILa] DATA SOURCES Sources of fieldwork practices, information [Pr.2], and data collection are provided in Appendix 6. [ILb] CATEGORIZING CULTURE AREAS A number of scholars, including Kroeber (1948) and Murdock (1951), have attempted to categorize South American and Brazilian Indians in terms of culture areas. However, Steward, Galvao, and Ribeiro are the principal designators pertinent to the Canela. For Steward (1946-1959), die Canela and all Ge-speaking tribes are Marginal in his famous ecological four-way categorization of all South American tribes which is better evolved in Steward and Faron (1959:12). Galvao (1960,1967) offers anodier system for Brazilian tribes in which he places die Canela in his Culture Area VI(A), "Tocantins-Xingu," with most odier Timbira, while the Central Ge are VI(B) and the Kayapo, Gaviao, Ozonei, Tapirape, Karaja and others are VI(C). Kietzman (1967) develops Galvao's approach, especiady for the Summer Institute of Linguistics personnel. Earlier, Darcy Ribeiro (1957, 1967) designated Brazilian tribes as being in "isolation," "intermittent contact," "permanent contact" (Canela), or "integration.'' Currently, Ribeiro is evolving another system for Brazilian Indians covering all of tiiese peoples in a near exhaustive manner to replace Steward's Handbook of South American Indians for Brazil. [I I. c] ECOLOGICAL CONTEXT DURING 200 YEARS OF CONTACT Like other lowland South American tribes, the Canela are assumed to have been in a changing environment (a two-way relationship) with die floral, faunal, and climatic systems around them in earlier times. By the mid-1950s, culture contact and resulting acculturation had disrupted this two-way relation­ ship. Thus, precise ecological studies along these dimensions revealing aboriginal conditions were impossible, so I did not carry out the protein, soil depletion, and carrying capacity analyses of some colleagues. Instead, I researched the current ecological differences between the Canela and the Apanyekra, and die differences between the cerrado and dry forest environments for the Canela (W. Crocker, 1972). [ILd] SOCIOECONOMY Concerning the external socioeconomic context, warfare and trade relations with other tribes have been disrupted for about two centuries and have been largely cut off for over a century and a half. Thus, Canela and Apanyekra tribal experiences contrast sharply widi ethnological studies of the Kayapo (Lukesch, 1976; Posey, 1982, 1983b; T. Turner, 1966; Verswijver, 1978; Vidal, 1977a) and other tribes to the west, groups of which came out of isolation since the 1930s (Agostinho, 1974; Arnaud, 1964,1975; Basso, 1973; Chagnon, 1968; Gregor, 1977; Laraia and Da Matta, 1967; and Taylor, 1977). Francisco Ribeiro (1815 [1870], 1819a [1841], 1819b [1874]) provides little on external socioeconomic context for the Canela just after their pacification. In contrast, Murphy (1960) furnishes an acculturation study of several comparative stages for the Mundurucii, and Cardoso (1976) provides some insight into me process of assimilation at still later stages of 56 NUMBER 33 57 acculturation for the Terena and Tukuna. To gain some perspective on Canela acculturation, I began a survey of the socioeconomic scene in neighboring backland communities in 1960. My plan for more extensive studies of this sort was interrupted by the ranchers' 1963 attack on the Canela messianic movement [II.B.2.f]. Thus, bad feelings against the Canela in the backlands made it politically impossible for me to continue such studies until the late 1970s, by which time my priorities had changed, so such data was not codected. I did, however, make one visit to Jenipapo do Resplandes in 1979 (Map 3) to record conspicuous changes since die late 1950s. Data provided in works on other backland communities in eastern Maranhao, Piaui, and Ceara" (Chandler, 1972) would help determine what is aboriginally Canela and what is die result of culture contact. Folkloric studies of the Northeast (Campos, 1959) might also be helpful. See Forman (1975: 203-225) for folk Catholic and psychological attitudes of dependence similar to those of the backlander of the Canela- Apanyekra region; Hall (1978:15-54) for characteristics of die drought of the Northeast and its socio-economic problems, including backland ranching and sharecropping; Tipos e Aspectos do Brasil for socio-economic descriptions and actual drawings representative of die Canela-Apanyekra backland area (IBGE, 1956:64-66, 75-80, 91-97, 103-105, 124-127, 141-144, 164-166, 399-402, 406-425); and Johnson (1971) for general material on sharecroppers (all on a larger scale) and photographs characteristic of the Canela-Apanyekra backlands, except for die vegetation and irrigation. To the lesser extent that Amazonian traits were influencing customs of the area, Wagley's Amazon Town (1953) provides background material. [He] HISTORICAL CONTEXT Turning to the external historical context of the Canela, it would be desirable to have more data on the municipio of Barra do Corda and adjacent municipios. The archives of cities and communities in Maranhao may contain both general materials on this part of the state and specific materials related to contacts with the Canela. (See the etiinohistorical publications in the bibliography on the Guajajara by Mercio Gomes, 1977.) My data, however, were principally obtained by talking with research assistants and knowledgeable Brazilians. [ILA] Ge Language Family, Its Populations, and Ecology Ge (Glossary) is the language of both the Canela and die Apanyekra. The two dialects are very similar and have been converging since about 1950 because of lessening hostilities and increasing frequency of contacts between the two tribes. The Ge language is more widely spread (Map 1) than die region covered by the three geographic biomes converging near me Canela area. Estimated population numbers for all Ge-speaking peoples [II.A.2] stress die scope of this linguistic context. The geography of the intermediate zone where die Canela live lies between die tropical forests of Amazonia (hileia), the drought- stricken lands of the Northeast (caatinga), and die closed savannas (cerrado) of the central highlands to the soudiwest (informally, chapada). Geographic and cultural contrasts throughout the Canela backland region and the municipio of Barra do Corda are also presented. [ILA.l] Ge Language Family The Kraho, who live in five or six villages about 330 kilometers to the southwest of the Canela and Apanyekra (Map 1), speak a dialect of Ge, which Jack Popjes, the SIL linguist, considers technically the same language. The Krikati and Pukobye, who live about 160 kilometers to the west in Montes Altos and Amarante (Map 2), respectively, speak a distinct but related language, as do the Gaviao northeast of Maraba, about 400 kilometers to the northwest of the Canela. Collectively, die above-mentioned tribes are called the Eastern Timbira (Map 4). Somewhat west of the Krikati (about 90 kilometers) near the confluence of the Tocantins and Araguaia rivers live die Apinaye, who were sufficiendy different from the Eastern Timbira for Nimuendaju (1946:6) to classify them as the "Western Timbira." The experts and their general and principal publications on the Timbira are Arnaud (1964,1984) for the Gaviao, Da Matta (1976, 1982) for the Apinaye, Lave (1971, 1979) for the Krikati, Carneiro da Cunha (1978,1986) and J. Melatti (1967, 1970, 1978) for the Kraho, Newton (1974, 1981) for the Pukobye, and Nimuendaju (1937,1938, 1946) and W Crocker (1974a, 1974b, 1984a) for the Canela. There are no separate, modern publications on die Apanyekra. At least a dozen groups of Kayapo Indians live much further to the west (550 to 1100 kilometers) in the state of Para between the Araguaia and Xingu rivers and beyond, formerly to the Tapajos. Kayapo is sufficiently different diat most Canela have considerable difficulty understanding it; but some claim to comprehend enough Kayapo to get along well. In the late 1970s, when asked which Indians could be included in their category, me-hii (die-ones witii-characteristic-aspects: In­ dians like themselves), they allowed the Kayapo this degree of familiarity. Taking a more traditional stand than die present Canela linguistic one, however, I equate mehii with "Eastern Timbira," as the Canela > probably did in earlier times (Nimuendaju, 1946:12)[IV.C.l.f]. (For general publications on the Kayapo, see Bamberger, 1971; Diniz, 1962; Dreyfus, 1963; Hamu, 1987 (bibliography); Lukesch, 1976; Moreira Neto, 1959; T. Turner, 1966, 1979; Posey, 1983b; Vidal, 1977a; Verswijver, 1978, and Werner, 1984a.) 58 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY Further to the south (775 kilometers) in the Xingu Indigenous Park (Map 1) are the Suya" (Seeger, 1981, 1987), and somewhat to their north are the Kreen-akore (Panara). These tribes are classified as linguistically separate from both the Kayapo and each other, but taken ad together, and including the Eastern and Western Timbira, these groups comprise the Northern Ge speakers. It is not known whetiier the Canela understand Suya and Kreen-akore, but from comparing published words and sentences in Suya (Seeger, 1981) with Canela ones (Rumsey, 1971), I believe that communication would be more difficult than with the Kayapo. There are only two Central Ge tribes, the Sherente and Shavante (Maybury-Lewis, 1965,1967,1971). The former live along the eastern banks of the Tocantins River just south of die Kraho, and the latter live furtiier south on the Araguaia and one of its tributaries, the Rio das Mortes (Map 1). These languages are obviously too different from Canela for intercommunica­ tion, but Canela and Shavante contain a number of similar words, such as inkre (egg), tep (fish), hit (meat), ndd (motiier), and ta (rain). The Southern Ge tribes in southern Brazil are known as the Kaingang (Santos, 1970) and the Xokleng (D. Melatti, 1976; Santos, 1970, 1973). These tribes (Map 1) are linguistically quite distant from the Normern Ge, though the words in die above paragraph are also cognates, and in addition, so is pi ("tree"). [II.A.2] Population of Ge-speaking Indians The Canela population was about 300 in 1936 (Nimuendaju, 1946:33) and increased slowly to 412 (±3) by July 1960. The number diminished to 394 (±2) by mid-1964 as a consequence of five deaths from attack, 17 departures from the tribe and additional deaths in the dry forest, some due to different ecological conditions. Additional departures and returns (13 and 2), and deaths and births, reduced die population to 382 (±2) by mid-1966. With the return to the cerrado in 1968, die population total rose to 397 (±1) by 1 September 1969, to 416 by the same date in 1970, and to 436 by die same date in 1971 (W. Crocker, 1972, table 2). The Canela population reached 514 (±1) on 1 September 1975, 616 (±3) by the same date in 1979, and 903 by Indian service count on 1 March 1989. In 1919, Nimuendaju estimated 118 Apanyekra (J. Melatti, 1985:4), and in 1929 he counted 130 (Nimuendaju, 1946:31). By 1970, they had increased to 205 (±3), by 1971 to 213 (±2), and by 1975 to 225 (±1).4 By 1986 there were 791 Canela and 294 Apanyekra (CEDI, 1986). All the following tribal population numbers in this section come from this publication and are credited there to the FUNAI unless stated otiierwise here; census takers and years cited below in brackets in this section can be found in die above cited Povos Indigenas no Brasil (CEDI, 1986). Thus,combined with 912 Kraho Indians [in the year 1984], there were approximately 2000 speakers of Canela-Kraho. The Krikati of Montes Altos numbered 360 [J.L. Santos, in 1986], the Gaviao-Parkateje near Maraba were 176 [Ferraz,in 1985], and the Gaviao-Pukobye of Amarante were reported at about 300 in 1986. Living with the Guajajara on the Pindare were 20 Kreje [in 1986] and 9 Kokuiregateje [in 1986]. Thus, there were about 2500 Eastern Timbira Indians. (I prefer round numbers since these censuses are not precise.) Adding the Western Timbira, the Apinaye [565 in 1986], to these numbers, there were 3000 to 3100 Timbira Indians in the mid-1980s. For the many Kayapo groups, the Gorotire/Kikretum/ Kubenkranken/Aukre/Kokraimoro count comes to 1598, the Kararao to 36, the Mekragnoti to 526, and the Xikrin of die Bacaja River to 186, all in 1986. Other Kayapo groups are listed witiiout population numbers. Vidal counted 304 Xticrin on the Catete River in 1985. In the Xingu Indigenous Park, tiiree Metuktire groups number 374 [Turner,in 1986]. Thus, the Kayapo count is 3024. Considering the listed though not counted groups, the total Kayapo population figure may be about 3500 or higher. The Suya are listed as being 114 [in 1984] and the Kreen-akore (Panara) as 84 [Biral, 1985]. Thus the Northern Ge total about 6800 Indians in the mid-1980s. For the Central Ge, die Sherente number 850 in two groups as reported by Silva e Pena [in 1984]. The Shavante in six groups total 4834 [in 1984], but the count in a seventh group was not reported. Thus, the Central Ge sum is 5684 or at least 5700 Indians. For the Southern Ge, the Kaingang in 24 groups, some of them urban, total 11,042, and the Xokleng 634. Thus, there are about 24,000 Ge language family Indians in Brazil. No Ge-speaking Indians exist outside Brazil, but tribes grouped in the greater category of Macro-Ge (Steward and Faron, 1959:22) are widespread, such as Caribbean and Arawakan speakers in the Antilles and northern South America. The summarizing tabulation on die following page lists the above figures as stated, not die approximations. The years are mixed but are from the mid-1980s. NUMBER 33 59 NORTHERN GE Timbira Eastern Timbira Canela-Krah6 Canela Apanyekra Krah6 Krikati (Montes Altos) Gaviao-Parkateje (Marabd) Gaviao-Pukobye' (Amarante) Kreje Kokuiregateje Apinaye Kayap6 Gorotire/Kikretum/Kubenkranken/ Aukre/Kokraimoro Kararao Mekragnoti Xikrin (Bacaja) Xikrin (Catete) Metuktire Suy£ Kreen-akore (Panara) CENTRAL GE Sherente Shavante (six groups) SOUTHERN GE Kaingang (24 groups)* Xokleng Approximate total of Ge-speaking Indians 3427 6649 [II.A.3.a] HISTORICAL ISOLATION 2862 791 294 912 1997 360 176 300 20 9 1598 36 526 186 304 374 565 3024 114 84 850 4834 5684 11,676 11,042 634 24,000 *A few small Southern Ge groups exist besides the Kaingang and Xokleng, so, including the uncounted Kayap6, a reasonable total for Ge-speakers is at least 26,000. Earlier and later movements bypassed the Canela region. Pastos Bons, 150 kilometers to the southeast of the modern Canela region, was an outpost of settler activity since the middle of the 18th century (Map 4). Earlier stid (1694), Francisco Garcia de Avila led "a great expedition of 1350 men to the region of the Itapicuru headwaters" (Nimuendaju, 1946:3) (Map 4) on the edge of the territory held by Canela ancestors, die Capiekran (Nimuendaju, 1946:32). Conse­ quently, dangers to the Canela from early settlers came initially from the southeast rather dian from the north, from Sao Luis, by way of the Mearim and Corda rivers (Nimuendaju, 1946:2). [II.A.3.a.(l)] The Kraho occupied the area west of Pastos Bons and Sao Raimundo da Mangabeira (Map 4), and so, were in the direct line of march of pioneer cattle ranchers, as they first moved west between 1810 and 1820 into the watershed of the Tocantins River, along the relatively flat and fertile basins of the Itapicuru and Parnaiba rivers (Hemming, 1987:190; J. Melatti, 1967:20). Thus, the pioneer front drove the Kraho out of their aboriginal habitat to the Tocantins, causing them numerous defeats, disorganization, and deculturation. The Capiekran, in contrast, living entirely north of the Itapicuru River, merely retreated further into their traditional lands nortii of the Alpercatas River, escaping the main thrust of the pioneer front. The hilly, still largely unsettled region between die Alpercatas and Itapicuru, now set aside as the Parque Nacional do Mirador (Map 2), protected the Canela to a considerable extent in die 1810s and 1820s, as did the Serra Das Alpercatas immediately to tiieir south (Map 3). [II.A.3] Effects of Ecology on Survival, Demography, Acculturation, Geography Ecological effects on a tribe's history, survival, location, demography, and degree of acculturation or deculturation are often not taken into account in monographic studies. Some factors of this sort are discussed here such as (1) aboriginal tribal location near pioneer front movements in relation to river basins and mountain ranges; (2) later tribal location in relation to rivers, waterfalls, necessary settlement dispersal, and road construction, and (3) the two tribal locations in relation to their current contrasting environments. To facilitate comprehension of the above mentioned factors affecting Apanyekra and Canela culture, I describe the geography of die Barra do Corda region and certain problems cerrado cover presents for human beings specifically and generally. [II.A.3.a.(2)] Over a century and a quarter later, die first tire track truck road reached die city of Barra do Corda (Map 2), coming in from die southeast. It bypassed the Canela area (Map 3), still protected by the Serra das Alpercatas. This road came from Floriano, Mirador, and Conceicao. Such access into Barra do Corda was possible only after a bridge was built in 1956 across the Alpercatas River at Campo Largo, 24 kilometers east of Jenipapo do Resplandes. By 1960, a central (an unpaved highway elevated above die terrain) passed 100 kilometers south of the Canela lands. It came from the Brazilian Northeast by way of Floriano and Picos dirough Pastos Bons to reach Sao Raimundo da Mangabeira, and from there continued to Carolina and on the Tocantins River. This was also the principal route of pioneer movements during the early part of the 18th century, as mentioned above. Thus, it is apparent that the advantages of die Canela geographical location in relation to river valleys and 60 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY mountain ranges spared them considerable cultural disruption and even physical relocation. The highway now running north of die Canela area and through Barra do Corda did not exist in 1956, river and air transportation being the principal modes of access. The section of the road passing dirough Presidente Dutra to Imperatriz was completed only in the early 1970s. (See earth moving construction on the left in Plate 3a.) This road and the one 150 kilometers to the south passing through Sao Raimundo da Mangabeira are built on firmer and flatter ground than is found in the hilly and sandy cerrado region of the Canela. Thus, physical geography again played an important protective role in the Canela and Apanyekra survival into modern times. The Kraho have survived as well but are considerably more deculturated. [II.A.3.a.(3)] Continuing their aboriginal habit of going on trek [II.D.3.i] even as late as the late 1950s, die Canela did not travel due south to Sao Raimundo da Mangabeira located on the new central. Instead, they went the round-about, more populated way of Leandro, Campo Largo (Map 3), Conceicao, Mirador, Pastos Bons, Floriano, Picos to eventually reach Juazeiro (Map 2), from where they caught trains to Sao Paulo in the south or went by highway to Recife and Salvador in die Nortiieast. In Juazeiro, even in the last century, they were in a well populated and developed region, die valley of die Sao Francisco River. In the late 1950s, die Canela and Apanyekra told elaborate and extensive stories about the social "disasters" (due to misunderstandings) tiiat occurred on such trips. Such "trek­ king" was a major part of their existence during the 1890s and up until the 1970s. When tiiey arrived in a town, they looked for the mayor and asked him for food and lodging. Usually they were asked to sing and dance, and did so, and were housed in die jail for the night. Often they sold artifacts at prices tiiat were far higher than in the Barra do Corda area. The next day they asked die mayor for transportation to die next town, which was often given, probably to get them out of town and trouble. Sometime before May in 1958, a group of about nine Canela males went to Rio de Janeiro: Ropkha, 57 years old; Waakhay, 22; the younger Krooto, 23; Hawpuu, 30; Khrut, 23; Khret, 22; die younger Kaapeltuk, 23; Yookhen, 21; and Htichuu, early 20s. Hawpuu and Waakay are sons of Ropkha; Khrut, Khret, and Kaapeltuk are classificatory sons-in-law of Ropkha; and Krooto, Y55khen, and Htichuu are not related to Ropkha. The young men, except for Waakay and Hawpuu, are not closely related. They all belong to the Lower age-set of Kaapeltuk except for Hawpuii who belongs to die adjacent older Upper age-set, whde Ropkha belongs to die Upper age-set 20 years older than Hawpuu's. They took to the Indian service in Rio de Janeiro two sets of bows and arrows, five clubs (kho-po) [II.G.3.d.(l)], and the ceremonial belt with pendant tapir hoof tips (tsti.) [II.G.3.a.(3)] of the sing-dance master R3rak, age 46, according to die service agent Raimundo Ferreira Sobrinho. They were given in return 466 meters of cloth (at least 156 wraparound skirts), 3 shot guns, and about 20 machetes. The bows, possibly ceremonial, could have been made of what was known locally as "purplewood" (pau roxo) and the clubs of "brazilwood" (pau brasil), both nonexistent in the area by the late 1970s because of their value. The belt might have had 18 to 24 tapir hoof tips. Thus, by the exchange standards of the backlands and Barra do Corda in the late 1950s, the payment was very high, but by tiie international standards of the late 1970s, the payment was extremely low. Today, the Canela travel far less (being more controlled by the Indian service), but follow modern bus routes which take them to Belem and Brasilia, not to die Northeast. They still, nevertheless, want to come back from large cities with travel trophies Idee in aboriginal times [rV.C.l.c.(5)], which now take die form of hunting and farming equipment and even trucks and cattle. New chiefs demonstrate their leadership ability to their people by going to cities and coming back with whatever goods tiiey can. In the 1980s, Kaara?khre came back with a truck, though an ex-chief, while the younger Kaapeltuk returned with 30 head of catde. [II.A.3.b] PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT As Nimuendaju (1946:37) has mentioned, the Canela and other Timbira tribes were especially adapted to their closed savanna (cerrado; Glossary) and stream-side gallery forest (Glossary) environments. Whereas the Eastern and Western Timbira live in the closed savannas (except for the Gaviao; Nimuendaju, 1946:19), the other Northern Ge-speaking tribes inhabit mostly forests. The Kayapo occupy both environments (J. Turner, 1967) and go on trek in closed savannas as well as dirough certain tropical forest locations in order to gather particular kinds of produce from each environment (Vidal, 1977a). The Canela and Apanyekra live almost entirely in the cerrado, close to six degrees south of the equator and 45 degrees west longitude. Because the "elevation" (Nimuendaju, 1946:2) is between 200 to 300 meters above sea level (with the highest immediate mesas and ridges being around 400 meters), and because they are about 650 kilometers southeast of the moudi of the Amazon River (i.e., Bel6m), the climate of the region is quite moderate. [II.A.3.b.(l)] Both the Canela and the Apanyekra are located in die municipio of Barra do Corda, which is slightly south of die center point of Maranhao state. This location places them in die general region of the intersection of three biomes. From the northwest and Amazonia, tropical forests (hileia) reach to within 250 kilometers of the Barra do Corda area. Dry forests NUMBER 33 61 FIGURE 3.—Cerrado countryside ("closed savannas"), 1969, with birthing mats left in tree fork to decay. (mata seca, avarandado, Figure 5)—extensions of these hileia rain forests—almost reach Barra do Corda, and do reach die Apanyekra (Map 8) and the Indian service post of Sardinha (Map 3), 15 kilometers from Barra do Corda. The undergrowth in these dry forests, though not wet, is too dense to walk dirough; one must clear the way with a machete. Some of these forests are deciduous (Figure 6), losing most of their leaves in September and October. Dry forests are die characteristic vegetation around die vdlage of Sardinha (Plates 32,33), where die Canela lived from 1963 dirough 1968. There the trees range from 15 to 30 meters tall, but further north and west diey are higher. The Apanyekra were living in the cerrado when occupying their Rancharia village during die mid- to late-1960s, but nevertheless were on the edge of these dry forests, which run roughly along the left bank of the Corda River (Map 8). Their principal village of Porquinhos is also in the cerrado and not far from tiiese dry forests, which lie about 10 kilometers west of the village. Much of the soil in the dry forests is good for growing crops in the traditional manner. The soil of the cerrado requires expensive additives and machinery to accomplish the same production levels (Abelson and Rowe, 1987). From the east and southeast of Barra do Corda, the caatinga biome of the Brazilian Northeast (IBGE, 1956:88-90) reaches close to the Canela area (50 to 100 kilometers). These semi-arid lands, almost deserts, spread over most parts of the states of Bahia, Pernambuco, Rio Grande do Norte, Sergipe, Alagoas, Ceara, and Piaui, except in the mountains and on the coast. True caatinga countryside occurs in many places east of the capital of the state of Piaui, Terezina, and can be found in patches here and there almost into Barra do Corda. The vegetation around and just,to the east of Barra do Corda, however, is scrub: small bushes and low trees widi tangled underbrush. This variety of caatinga develops where rainfall is slighdy higher than elsewhere in the Northeast. The Brazilian Northeast is historically famous for droughts, which occur approximately every seven years. During such times, it scarcely rains for about 18 months, and water is 62 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY FIGURE 4.—Racing-log preparation in the "gallery forest" undergrowth, which is impassable without cutting it with a machete. (Escalvado 1969) obtained from open wells that are dug 5 to 10 meters into the ground. During tiiese droughts, large populations have died or migrated out of the area, either to the south or to the west, and cattle herds have been considerably reduced in size. According to Canela research assistants, such a drought has reached as far west as the Canela area only once (about 1915). From the states of Mato Grosso, Para, and Goias to die southwest of Barra do Corda, die cerrado biome reaches die Canela and Apanyekra areas, but not the area around die city of Barra do Corda, ending just short of Ourives (Map 3), 25 NUMBER 33 63 FIGURE 5.—Dry forest near Sardinha. kilometers from Barra. The cerrado flora mixes widi the extensions of the tropical forest flora (i.e., the dry deciduous forest) and witii the caatinga ground cover, prevailing over both tiiese biomes. The Canela and Apanyekra live in these finger-like extensions of cerrado lands (IBGE, 1956:64-66, agreste; Ferri, 1969:19), reaching into their area from die southwest. Unlike die Apanyekra who live adjacent to die dry forests, the Canela have to go either to the Apanyekra (Map 8) or to Sardinha (Map 3) to retrieve products from the dry forests, such as macaw tail feathers, resin used to glue falcon down on bodies, or genipap, a blue-black ceremonial body paint. [ILA.3.b.(2)] Cerrado (Nimuendaju, 1946:1: steppes; Eiten, 1971:159- 168) is a general term (known as chapada or campestre locally) that describes a continuum of changing vegetation, ranging from semi-open grassy terrain to almost closed woodlands. (The traveler sees cerrado countryside—quite similar to the Canela principal vegetation—around Brasilia.) Campos, at die other extreme, are fields of open grass largely free of shrubbery, but such vegetation is rare in the Canela region, found only near the sources of streams. Several transitional formations exist distinguished by different densities and heights of trees. The term "cerrado" (meaning "closed") applies to all of these formations but especially to woodlands (Plate I3c,d); that is, where trees grow closer together, many of diem touching (Ferri, 1971, 1974). These cerrado trees often take strange shapes: gnarled, twisted, and turned. (For a list of cerrado trees, see Nimuendaju, 1946:1.) A person on a horse or in a jeep can move freely almost anywhere between the trees even in the more wooded cerrado (Figure 3), except where crossing a stream bordered by a gallery forest (Glossary) (Figure 4). This person's vision, however, is totally blocked by trees 10 to 50 meters away, depending on their varying density. Mesas, or extended ridges, are sometimes seen in me distance, helping the orientation of the person within the cerrado environment. In 1970, I was returning from the Apanyekra to the new village of Escalvado with a group of Canela. To save time after passing Papagaio, we followed a course with no trail or markings from Por Enquanto (Map 3) directly east to 64 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY V i \ • . - . ^rr . ~ i> . , 1 > N FIGURE 6.—Deciduous dry forest in October, 1971, north of the Apanyekra reservation along the Enjeitado stream. Escalvado instead of taking the much longer, permanent trail to the south. The terrain in this area generally slopes to die north. It also slopes to the east or west at streams, but rarely to the south, which is upstream, as the land rises toward the Serra das Alpercatas (Map 3), a west-to-east mesa-like ridge forming much of the soutiiern boundary of the Canela reservation. The sun was not visible in the overcast sky and die cerrado trees were high enough so we could not see the Alpercatas ridge, which should have been some 10 kilometers to the soutii. The younger Kaapeltuk [I.G.4] was sure our course was correct, so we continued. Becoming increasingly concerned however, I asked Kaapel to have a boy climb a tree to see how we were moving in relation to the Alpercatas ridge. He refused at first, being sure of his leadership, but finally ordered a youth up a tree to appease me. The young man came down looking embarrassed and reported that the Alpercatas ridge was to die north, exacdy opposite from the expected direction. We had been traveling west, back to Por Enquanto, without knowing it. This kind of mistake is easy to make where no trail exists and when the sun does not penetrate die clouds most of the day. One cannot see very far in the cerrado anyway, and in these conditions, one must depend on the general slope of the land, or a mesa, to keep on course. In May, 1960, while map making in me cerrado with the younger Kaapel, I used a compass course taken from the top of a small mesa to pass straight through an hour of unbroken cerrado instead of following a curved trail along a stream. We arrived in camp one half hour early, which surprised and pleased him. The only time one cannot walk or run freely almost anywhere between the trees in the cerrado is when trying to cross most gallery forest streams. Here the underbrush can be so dense (Figure 4) that it must be hacked away by machete. Backlanders call established trails across and through tiie well-watered jungle terrain on both sides of die streams "passageways" (passagens). These crucial lines of communica­ tion sometimes resemble tunnels through green hills of massed vegetation. Swampy areas often line the edges of die Santo Estevao stream, and to a lesser extent die other streams of die Canela region. Thus, while some stream crossings might be free and clear (Plate 13e), otiiers might be 100 meters long. NUMBER 33 65 Besides providing access to a fordable part of the stream, these passageways sometimes have long sections of built-up foot­ bridges (me-hapdd: for-Eastern-Timbira a-bridge). Often a long grass called tiririca grows between the dense gallery forest and die cerrado. If a person pulls or rubs against this plant the wrong way, its sharp edges rip open the skin. Consequently, nobody without heavy clotiiing, which the Canela usually do not possess, is going to dash dirough a gallery forest except along die prepared passageway. [II.A.3.C] SOCIOECONOMIC FACTORS INHIBITING BRAZILIAN ENCROACHMENT Settlements in the cerrado are located near streams because of the need for water. Soil of the Canela cerrado is unusually sandy and dry. Only in gallery forests (Plate 12