BELIEF IN ONE CHIEF DEITY AND MANY DEMI-GODS — THE SORCERER OR PIAI-MAN, AND HIS TRAINING — THE SACRED RATTLE — DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES OF THE PIAI-MAN — CURING DISEASE AND DRIVING OUT THE EVIL SPIRIT — MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS — THE WATER-MAMMA — THE ORIGIN OF THE CARIB RACE — A WILD LEGEND — DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD — THE LAKE-DWELLING WARAUS — THE ITÁ PALM AND ITS USES — AN AËRIAL HOUSE — THE LAKE-DWELLERS OF MARACAIBO.

We will conclude this history of the Guianan tribes with a few remarks on their religion.

As far as is known of their religious ideas as they were before they became intermixed with those taught to them by the white man, the Guianan natives believe in one supreme Deity, and a vast number of inferior divinities, mostly of the evil kind. All pain is said to be caused by an evil spirit called Yauhahu, and is said to be the Yauhahu’s arrow.

As it is necessary that these evil beings should be propitiated when any calamity is feared, a body of sorcerers, called piai men, are set apart in order to communicate between their fellow men and the unseen world. In order to qualify themselves for the task, the piai men are obliged to go through sundry strange ceremonies, under the charge of some venerable professor of the art. The neophyte is taken to a solitary hut, and there compelled to fast for several days before his spirit is fit to leave his body and receive the commands of the Yauhahu.

For this purpose a quantity of tobacco is boiled, and the infusion drunk by the aspirant to priestly honors. The natural effect of this dose is to exhaust the already weakened body, and to throw the recipient into a state of fainting, during which his spirit is supposed to leave his body, and receive a commission from the Yauhahu. Indeed, he undergoes a civil death, he is proclaimed as dead, and his corpse is exposed to public view.

He recovers very slowly from the terrible state of prostration into which he has been thrown, and when at last he leaves his hut, he is worn almost to a skeleton. As a mark of office, he is solemnly presented with the marakka, or sacred rattle. This is nothing more than a hollow calabash, some eight inches in diameter, having a stick run through it, and a few white stones within it, so as to make a rattling sound when shaken. The calabash is painted red, and a few feathers are generally hung to the sticks. It is two feet in length, and adorned with scarlet and blue feathers. These rattles are held in the greatest veneration by the uninitiated, who will not venture to touch them, and are chary even of entering a house in which a marakka is hung. In consequence of the value set upon these instruments, the natives can scarcely be induced to part with them, and the few which have been sent to England have in nearly every case been procured from sorcerers who have been converted to Christianity, and, as a proof of their sincerity, have given up the emblems of their order.

The piai man is called in on almost every occasion of life, so that his magic rattle has but little rest. He is present at every piwarri feast, when he decorates himself with feather plumes, the skins of snakes, and similar ornaments, and shakes his rattle over the bowl before the contents are drunk.

Chiefly is he needed in times of sickness, when, by virtue of his rattle, he is supposed to be capable of driving away the evil spirit whose curse has caused the malady. When a piai man is called to a case of sickness, he sends all the women away, and even keeps the men at a respectful distance. His exercises then begin, and are continued for hours, chants to the evil spirit being accompanied with sundry rattlings, until in the depth of night the Yauhahu manifests himself to the sorcerer, and tells him how to extract the “arrow” which he has aimed at the sick man. Of course it is incumbent on the sorcerer to produce the arrow in question, which is done by sucking the affected part, and producing from the mouth a little pebble, a bird’s claw, a snake’s fang, or something of the kind.

If the reader will refer to illustration No. 5, on page 1265, he will see a very complicated and rather elegantly formed rattle. The hollow gourd forms part of the rattle, but it is very small, and depends from a series of three hoops, which are strung with beetle wings. The noise which this simple instrument makes is really wonderful, and the slightest movement of the string by which it is held sets all the wings clattering against each other. This interesting object was brought from Guiana by H. Bernau, Esq.

Even accepting the marakka and the beetle wing rattle as musical instruments, we find that the Guiana natives have but little variety in music. The only instruments which are really worthy of the name are pipes or flutes made of different materials. One of these instruments is in my collection. It is made of the ever-useful bamboo, and includes one internode, i. e. the space between two knots.

The mouthpiece is narrow and oblong, and the maker has possessed sufficient knowledge of sound to cut out a large scooped piece from the middle of the instrument. The owner seems to have prized this flute exceedingly, as he has covered it with elaborate patterns. It is blown like our own flute, and the sound which it produces is loud, full, but, if musical, is melancholy also, and much resembles the wailing sound produced by blowing into the mouth of a soda-water bottle. The length of this flute is fourteen inches.

The natives also make a flute of the leg bone of the jaguar, which is very much prized, the spoils of the jaguar having a very high value among them. One of these is shown on the next page. The Caribs once used human bones for this purpose, but at the present time are content with jaguar bones, as equally indicative of courage and skill.

To return to the superstition of the Guianan natives. One of the beings which they most dread is the water mamma, or Orehu. This is an unfortunate being who inhabits the water, and occasionally shows herself, though in different forms, sometimes even assuming that of the horse, but often taking that of the manati. The Orehu is a female spirit, and is generally, though not always, malicious, and, when she is in a bad temper, is apt to rise close to the canoes, and drag them and their crews under water.

The legends told by the various tribes respecting their origin are very curious, as showing a great similarity with those of other parts of the world with whom there could have been no geographical connexion. For example, the legend of the earth submerged under water, through the disobedience of some of its inhabitants, and repeopled by a few who were placed in a safe spot until the waters subsided.

One of the strangest of their legends is told by Mr. Brett. It concerns the origin of the Warau and Carib tribes.

Originally the Waraus lived in a country above the sky, where they had all they could desire. One day a young hunter shot an arrow into the air, and when he came to search for it, found a deep hole through which it had fallen. Looking down through the aperture, he saw another world opened out beneath him, and was seized with curiosity to visit it. Accordingly, he made himself a sort of ladder of rattan, which grows abundantly in the upper world where he lived, and descended to the world below.

Here he remained for some time, revelling on the flesh of animals hitherto unknown to him. After a while, he climbed up the ladder with great trouble, and told his friends the wonders which he had seen. Struck with surprise at his narrative, and eager to partake of the luxuries which he described, the whole of his friends determined on paying a visit to these wondrous regions. Accordingly, they descended the ladder in safety, except the last of their number, a very fat man, who, in trying to squeeze himself through the aperture, became fixed in it, and could not escape, thus shutting off all communication between the two worlds.

Nothing was left for them but to make the best of a bad business, and first of all to beseech the Great Spirit to send them some water. He listened to their entreaties, created the Essequibo, the Demerara, and other rivers, and made for the special use of the Waraus a small lake of the purest water, of which they were to drink, but in which they were forbidden to bathe.

Now it happened that there was a Warau family of four brothers and two sisters, the latter beautiful, but wilful maidens. They rebelled against the prohibition, plunged into the lake, swam to a pole that was planted in its midst, and shook it. The presiding genius of the lake was a male spirit, who was kept prisoner as long as the pole was untouched, but as soon as it was shaken the spell was broken, and the spirit of the lake pounced on the offending maiden and carried her off. After a while he allowed her to rejoin her friends, but the indignation of her brothers was very great when they found that their sister was about to become a mother, and they determined to kill the child when it was born. However, it was exactly like any other Warau child, and so they allowed it to live.

Though living among her own friends, the girl could not forget her strange lover, and went off again to him. A second child was born, but this time the upper parts of the body were those of a child, and the lower parts were developed into a water snake. The mother, though terrified at the appearance of her offspring, carried it off into the woods and cherished it, but it was discovered by her brothers, who pierced it with their arrows, and left it for dead. Her attention, however, restored it to life, and it grew to a formidable size. The brothers held a consultation, and at last surrounded it, transfixed it with showers of arrows, and, to make sure of its death cut it to pieces.

“The unhappy Korobona carefully collected the remains into a heap, which she kept continually covered with fresh leaves, and guarded with tender assiduity. After long watching, her patience was rewarded. The vegetable covering began to heave and show signs of life. From it there slowly arose an Indian warrior of majestic and terrible appearance. His color was of a brilliant red, he held bow and arrows in his hand, and was otherwise equipped for instant battle.

“That warrior was the first Carib, the great father of a powerful race. He forthwith commenced the task of revenge for the wrongs suffered in his former existence. Neither his uncles, nor the whole Warau race whom they summoned, could stand before him. He drove them hither and thither like deer, took possession of such of their women as pleased him, and by them became the father of brave and terrible warriors like himself. From their presence the unhappy Waraus retired, till they reached the swampy shores of the Atlantic, forsaking those pleasant hunting grounds which they had occupied on their first descent from heaven.”

The Waraus are wonderfully inventive with regard to legends; and have one which is worthy of notice, if only for the fact that it attributes all the learning of the white men to a Warau origin. This is the legend of Aboré. “Once upon a time,” there was a very ill-conditioned female spirit, named Wowtá, who usually preferred the form of a frog, but who changed herself into a woman for the purpose of stealing a very beautiful little boy called Aboré. In the form of a woman she obtained access to the house of Aboré’s mother, whom she induced to leave the child under her care. No sooner was she alone with Aboré than she pulled and stretched him to such a degree that in a few hours he grew as much as he would have done in several years, so that his mother repudiated him on her return.

As he grew to manhood, Aboré became the slave of his captor, whom he thought to be his mother, until he was undeceived by a friendly spirit who met him in the forest. After trying several plans for escape, and failing in them all, he hit upon the design of making a canoe of wax. He was aided in this task by the fondness of Wowtá for honey, in search of which the unfortunate Aboré passed nearly the whole of his time. Wowtá received the combs with croaks of delight, and as she threw them away after eating the honey, Aboré laid the wax aside, until he had enough for a canoe.

As soon as he had collected a sufficiency of wax, Aboré called his mistress to look at a hollow tree filled with bee-comb. She crept into the tree to regale herself on the honey, and was imprisoned by the crafty Aboré, who fastened up the aperture so that the sorceress could not escape, loaded his canoe with provisions, and set off for a land of refuge. He sailed far away until he came to a strange country where the people were white, naked, uneducated, and utterly barbarous. He taught them the elements of civilization, showed them how to forge iron, and initiated them into the arts and sciences, for which the white man was now so distinguished.

In that far land he still lives, and, remembering the wants of his fellow countrymen, he continually sends them shiploads of the things which they most need. But in consequence of the bad faith of those to whom they are delivered, the poor Waraus are obliged to pay for everything that he sends. The moral which is derived from this legend is, that all the white men who visit the Waraus ought to make up for the dishonesty of their countrymen, and give them as many beads, knives, and guns as they can procure.

When Mr. Brett first heard this tale, he thought that it was simply an ingenious invention framed for the purpose of unlimited begging, especially as the narrator asked for a shirt as soon as he had finished the story, and then proceeded to request a whole series of other articles. He found, however, by questioning different natives, that the legend was really a national one, and not a mere invention of an ingenious native.

There is evidently a distinction to be drawn between the two portions of the legend. The first part, containing the adventures of Aboré, is evidently ancient, while the second part is as evidently modern, and has been introduced since the coming of white men into Guiana.

In the disposal of the dead there is some little variation. The mode which was most prevalent before the missionaries introduced Christian burial among them was as follows: The body was placed in a net and sunk in the river, where the whole of the flesh was quickly eaten from the bones by the pirai and other voracious fish. If the dead man were a person of distinction, the skeleton was then removed from the water, dried, painted red, and suspended under the roof of the house.

In the fifth book of Herodotus, chap, xv., occurs the following passage, which was long thought to be a mere invention on the part of the historian. After enumeration of the various nations that Megabazes subdued, he mentions that the Persian monarch also endeavored to conquer “those who live upon the Lake Prasias in dwellings contrived after this manner.

“Planks fitted on lofty piles are placed in the middle of the lake, with a narrow entrance from the mainland by a single bridge. These piles that support the planks all the citizens anciently placed there at the common charge; but afterward they established a law to the following effect: ‘Whenever a man marries, for each wife he sinks three piles, bringing wood from a mountain called Orbelus,’ but every man has several wives.

“They live in the following manner. Every man has a hut on the planks, in which he dwells, with a trap-door closely fitted in the planks, and leading down to the lake. They tie the young children with a cord round the feet, fearing lest they should fall into the lake beneath. To their horses and beasts of burden they give fish for fodder, of which there is such abundance, that when a man has opened his trap-door, he lets down an empty basket by a cord into the lake, and, after waiting a short time, draws it up full of fish.”

In these words the old historian describes with curious exactitude the mode of life adopted by some branches of the Waraus and Caribs. These have been described at some length by Humboldt, in his “Personal Narrative.” The large tract of land which forms the delta of the Orinoco possesses some very remarkable characteristics. It is always wet, but during several months in the year it is completely inundated, the river rising to an astonishing height, and covering with water a tract nearly half as large as England. This seems to be as unpropitious a spot as could be adopted for human habitations, and yet the Waraus (or Guarános, as Humboldt spells the word) have established themselves there, and prefer it to any other locality, probably because their strange mode of life enables them to pass an existence of freedom.

Varying much in the height to which it rises, in some places exceeding fifty feet, the Orinoco has the quality of rising year after year to the same height in the same place, so that when a mark is made to designate the height to which the water rose in one year, the same mark will answer year after year with scarcely the slightest deviation. It is evident that in such a spot, where the soil is in the dry season nothing but mud, and in the wet season is forty or fifty feet under water, only a very peculiar vegetation can live. This is the Itá (pronounced Eetáh) palm, belonging to the genus Mauritia, a plant which, like the mangrove of Africa, requires plenty of heat and moisture to enable it to develop itself fully. The native name for this tree is Murichi.

A brief description of the itá palm must be given before we proceed further, or the reader will not understand the peculiar conditions under which these water dwellers live. When full grown, it resembles a tall, cylindrical pillar, with a fan of ten or twelve vast leaves spreading from its extreme top. Each leaf is some ten feet in width, and is supported upon a huge stem about twelve feet in length, looking more like a branch than a leaf-stem. Indeed, a complete leaf is a heavy load for a man. At regular intervals the whole fan of leaves falls off, and is replaced by another, the tree adding to its height at every change of leaf, until the stem is nearly a hundred feet high, and fifteen in circumference.

Myriads upon myriads of these marvellous trees rise amid the waters of the Orinoco delta, sometimes clustered into solid masses of vegetation, sometimes scattered, and sometimes drawn up in devious avenues, according to the windings of the muddy channels that even in the dry seasons traverse the country. Whether grouped or scattered, the itá flourishes in this delta to such an extent that only the experienced canoe men of the place can navigate their barks among the tall stems, the narrow and winding channels which form the natural paths being completely obliterated by the waste of water. Any stranger who tried to thread this aquatic forest without the aid of a native guide would soon lose himself among the armies of itá palm, and perish miserably of hunger. Yet this very tree supplies to the Waraus of the Orinoco not only all the necessaries, but the luxuries of life, and were the whole tribe to be cut off from the mainland, they could support themselves without the least difficulty, the itá palm supplying house, food, drink, clothing, and furniture.

First, as to the house. The Warau requires for a house nothing but a floor and a roof. In the example seen on page 1244, the floor is supplied by the earth, but it is evident that in a house built in a locality where the ground is for many months together thirty or forty feet beneath the surface of the water, an artificial flooring is needed. The Warau architect, therefore, proceeds to construct his house in the following manner.

Selecting four itá trees that grow near each other in the form of a square, and, cutting away any of the intervening trees, he makes use of these four as the corner posts of his house. He knows by marks left on the trunks the precise height to which the water will rise, and some three feet or so above this mark he builds his floor, cutting deep notches in the trunk. In these notches are laid beams made from the stems of the felled itá palms, and lashed tightly in their places by ropes made of itá fibre.

On these beams are laid a number of cross-pieces, sometimes made from the split trunks, but usually being nothing more than the gigantic leaf-stems which have been already mentioned, and which are when dry very light, very tough, and very elastic. These cross-pieces are tied firmly together, and constitute the essential part of the floor. On them is placed a layer of palm leaves, and upon the leaves is a thick coating of mud, which soon dries under the tropical sun, and forms a smooth, hard, and firm flooring, which will bear a fire without risk of damage to the wooden structure below. Ten or twelve feet above the floor the Warau constructs a roof of palm leaves, the corners of which are supported by the same trees which uphold the house, and then the chief labors of the native architect are over. An illustration on page 1244 shows the scenery of the Orinoco delta and the architecture of these lake dwellers. So much for the house furnished by the itá palm.

Food is supplied by it in various forms. First, there is the fruit, which, when ripe, is as large as an ordinary apple, many hundreds of which are developed on the single branch produced by this tree. Next, there is the trunk of the tree and its contents. If it be split longitudinally at the time when the flower branch is just about to burst from the enveloping spathe, a large quantity of soft, pith-like substance is found within it. This is treated like the cassava, and furnishes a sort of bread called yuruma.

Drink is also obtained from the itá palm. From the trunk is drawn a sap, which, like that of the maguey or great American aloe, can be fermented, and then it becomes intoxicating in quality. Another kind of drink is procured from the fruit of the itá, which is bruised, thrown into water, and allowed to ferment for a while. When fermentation has proceeded to a sufficient extent, the liquor is strained through a sieve made of itá fibre, and is thus ready for consumption.

The small amount of clothing required by the Warau is also obtained from the itá, the membrane of the young leaf being stripped off and woven into a simple fabric.

From the same tree the Warau obtains all his furniture. Bows, arrows, and spears are made from its leaf-stems, the canoe in which he goes fishing is made from a hollow itá trunk, and the lines and nets are both furnished from the same tree, as is also the string of which his hammock is made. That the one single tree should be able to supply all the wants of an entire population is the more extraordinary, because in former days the Warau had no iron tools, and it is not easy to find a tree that will at the same time furnish all the necessaries of his life, and be of such a character that it can be worked by the rude stone implements which the Warau had to use before he obtained iron from the white men.

It may readily be imagined that the Waraus who inhabit this strange region are lower in the scale of civilization than those who live on dry land, and, to use the words of Humboldt, “in the lowest grades of man’s development we find the existence of an entire race dependent upon almost a single tree, like certain insects which are confined to particular portions of a flower.”

The Waraus are not the only lake dwellers of Southern America. At the extreme north of this half of the continent there is a province which derives its name from the mode of life adopted by the savage tribe which dwells upon the waters of a lake. On the north-western coast of Venezuela there is a large gulf, called the Gulf of Maracaibo, the name having been given to it by the Spanish discoverers in honor of a native chief whom they met on its shores. Close to the gulf, and only separated from it by a narrow, is a vast fresh-water lake, fed by the streams that pour from the mountains which surround it. The shape of this lake has been well compared to that of a jews-harp, with a rather elongated neck, and the depth of its water varies in a most remarkable manner.

From the sides the bottom of the lake shelves almost imperceptibly for a great distance, so that at a distance of two or three miles from the shore, a man would be able to walk with his head above the surface. Suddenly, and without the least warning, the bed of the lake dips into almost unfathomable depths, so that, though a man might be barely submerged above his waist, a single step will plunge him into water so deep that the tallest spire ever built would be plunged far below the surface.

Over the surface of this lake dwell numerous human beings, and, even at the present day, when the number of the inhabitants has been much decreased, upon its waters are no less than four large villages, beside numerous detached dwellings formed in the various bays which indent its shores.

The reason for thus abandoning the dry land and taking to the water is a very curious one, and may be summed up in a single word—mosquitoes. These tiny but most annoying insects are found in clouds around the edge of the lake, some species flying by night and others by day, so that at no hour is there the least respite from their attacks. Fortunately, they need the protection of the luxuriant vegetation that fringes the shore of the lake, and not being very enduring of wing, are obliged to rest at intervals in their flight. They therefore keep to the shore, and do not venture to any great distance over the water. Knowing this characteristic of the insect, the natives manage to evade them by making their dwellings behind the range of the mosquito’s flight.

In building these curious habitations, the lake dweller of Maracaibo is forced to employ a greater skill in architecture than is needed by the Waraus of the Orinoco delta. In that muddy delta, formed by the alluvium washed down by the river, the itá palm abounds, and forms natural pillars for the house; but the Lake Maracaibo furnishes no such assistance, and the native architect is therefore obliged to drive piles into the bed of the lake in order to raise his floor above the level of the water.

It is evidently needful that these piles should be made of wood which will not perish by the action of the water, and upon the shores of the lake grows a tree which supplies precisely the kind of timber that is required. It is one of the numerous iron-wood trees, and its scientific name is Guiacum arboreum. It is a splendid tree, rising to the height of a hundred feet or so, and having wood so hard that it will turn the edge of an axe. The natives, however, manage to fell these trees, to cut them into proper lengths, and to drive them firmly into the bed of the lake, where they become even stronger by submersion, being covered in course of years with an incrustation of lime, which makes them look as if they had been actually converted into stone.

On these piles are laid cross-beams and planks of lighter wood, and when a strong roof and light walls have been added, the house is complete. All the parts of the house are lashed together with green sipo, which contracts when dry, and binds the various portions as with bands of iron.

As has been already mentioned, numbers of these houses are gathered together into villages. When the Spaniards first entered the Gulf of Maracaibo, and came within view of the lake, they were struck with amazement, at these habitations, and called the place Venezuela—i. e. Little Venice—a name which has since been extended to the whole of the large province which is now known by that title.

It is on this lake that the gourd system of duck catching is carried to the greatest perfection. Great quantities of ducks frequent its waters, but they are shy of man, and will not allow him to come near them. The natives, however, manage to catch them by hand, without even employing a snare. They take a number of large gourds, scrape out the inside, and set them floating on the lake. At first the timid birds are afraid of the gourds and avoid them, but after a while they become accustomed to them, and allow them to float freely among their ranks.

The Indian then takes a similar gourd and puts it over his head, having previously cut a couple of holes through which he can see. He slips quietly into the water, and makes his way toward the duck, taking care to keep the whole of his body submerged. As soon as he gets among them, he grasps the nearest duck by the legs, jerks it under water, and ties it to his girdle, where it is soon drowned. He then makes his way to another duck, and, if an experienced hand, will capture as many as he can carry, and yet not alarm the survivors.