The story of the Caribs and Arawaks
Part 1
The story of
the Arawaks, the Caribs and the Spaniards is a well known tale told to every
Caribbean child. We all, from the least educated to the most widely read, accept
it almost instinctively that there were, before the Europeans landed on these
our islands, a peaceful and gentle tribe of Amerindians called the Arawaks who
had inhabited the entire Caribbean archipelago. So generous and guileless were
these people that they embraced the Spaniards and provided every comfort for
them, only to be repaid by being mercilessly slaughtered so that within a few
decades not one Arawak was alive.
Although it is rarely stated there is a clear implication that, for all of its
cruelty, the extinction of this people at the hands of the Spanish could almost
be seen as a blessing in disguise.
This is because there was another tribe, a ferocious one called the Caribs, who
were on the verge of pouncing on the Arawaks and putting them to an even more
horrible end. These Caribs were, you see, eaters of human flesh. Following hard
on the heels of the Arawaks, they had gobbled their way up the Caribbean
archipelago, settling on each island like a swarm of locusts in a field, and
only moving on when they had gorged themselves on every available Arawak. By the
time of Columbus's arrival, the Caribs had eaten their way through the Lesser
Antilles and already were licking their chops for the meat walking about in
Puerto Rico.
And yet, also instinctively, the distastefulness of that story makes it
difficult to swallow. Its nightmare quality seems to represent the final,
ultimate indignity perpetrated against the first Caribbean people - already
victims of the first holocaust unleashed on the world by European civilization.
So we wonder, is that what really happened? Could there not have been be another
side to it? Now that the 500th anniversary of Colum-bus's arrival has passed,
perhaps we should look again at the chronicles of the time. Because, having
taken our place in the modern world, we must define what we have brought to it.
And to do so, what better place to start than at the beginning?
Setting our minds to this task, then, the first matter at hand is the business
about the Arawaks: who were they? And the first startling fact we encounter is
that when Columbus arrived at Hispaniola there were no people who were called 'Arawaks',
and there never had been. If you were to go to Santo Domingo today people would
tell you that their Amerindian ancestors were the 'Taino'. Actually, Indians of
the Greater Antilles did not call themselves 'Taino', no more than they called
themselves 'Arawak' - that name was given them in 1935 by Sven Loven, a Swedish
archaeologist, from the word denoting in the Indian lauguage the ruling class of
their society. But let us not quibble: seeing as we do not know what
the Greater Antilleans called themselves, we shall make do with Taino.
If the people of the Greater Antilles were not Arawaks, neither did they
passively accept Spanish depradations. Most of us are familiar with the story of
Hatuey, the chief who organized to fight the Spanish and who was, when captured,
burnt at the stake. Repent and go to heaven, they told him as they lit the fire.
If there are Spaniards in heaven I would rather go to hell, he replied. Nor was Hatuey the only defiant one. There were several others, men like Guarocuya
(Enrique) in Hispaniola, Uroyoan in Borinquen (Puerto Rico) and Guama in Cuba,
who confronted the strange, terrifying European weapons - the man-eating dogs,
the guns, the mounted soldiers, the naval galleons - with great courage and
determination.
Part 2:
Lokono . . .