Entering the heart of darkness

Entering and walking into the garbage heap was one of my most intense and hardest moments during fieldwork. Going into the area I was surrounded by smoke from burning garbage, but as i was walking down the hill, into the garbage area, the smoke cleared, and this is what appeared:

As I descended down into the garbage heap, the intense smell of rotten, decaying matter was the first that hit me. Standing and walking in garbage, slipping on old diapers, rotting food, refuse of body decay and all the types of human garbage that you can imagine, and then some, made me sick to my bone.

Concentrating on not throwing up, Reimundo guided me through a sea of garbage, smoke from burning garbage and the trucks that sometimes came in high speed, and did not seem to care much if they should run over someone. Sometimes we would walk into small dumps, or mini-valleys, and there the smell would be at its most intense. But then we would walk up a small hill of garbage, and the wind would bring some fresh air, making it all better. And also to take a new breath before again descending into the rotten air.

After a while, we reached the rest of Reimunds family, his sons and their wife's, and their mother. Here I was struck by the way they was working thougether as a an extended family, cooperating, while they systematically worked through the a heap of garbage.

In the picture, with their face down in the garbage is his oldest sons wife, oldest son, younger son, and his own wife.
Another part of the life at the garbage heap was the vultures and flies. For them, the garbage was a paradise.

The village outside the garbage heap

At the end of my fieldwork among the Warao, I traveled up to the city Ciudad Guyana. In my village a lot of people had told me about a garbage heap that they used to go to, right outside this city. Ciudad Guyana is a company town, founded in 1961, and has had an extremely fast population growth, and have now over a million inhabitants. Such a city produces a lot of garbage, and in the outskirts there is a area called Cambalache. In Venezuela this place is called a "red zone", indicating that the security situation is not particularly good. On my first trip out to Cambalache I had to ask three different taxi drivers to take me there, and the third one only agreed to take me if I doubled the fee.
I had heard a lot of stories about the place, and almost everyone back in the village had said I would be killed immediately if I went there. They called the garbage heap for Wabanoko - the Cemetery. Even though I know that people in the village exaggerated sometimes, they had managed to make me slightly nervous.
The taxi driver took us into an area that was by far the poorest place I had visited in urban Venezuela. I knew some warao had established a village somwhere close to the river, but I had no idea where it was. As we went further into this area, the poverty manifested itself more and more into the building. The houses where made of plastic, paper boards and roofs made of corrugated iron.
After a while the road got so bad that the taxi driver refused to drive further. I have to admit that I was reluctent to leave the car, but there was no way back now. As the car went away, I started walking further on. After a couple of hundred meters I cought my eye on some young Warao, and I started following them. They had made a camp down by the river, and it corresponded with the discripron I had gotten back home.

The young men seemed nervous and quite uneasy that I walked over to them, and they had porbably been warned about all the dangers of this place themselves. But as I started talking to them in Warao, they went from suppraise to amusement quiqly. I found out that they where from a different part of the delta, and that we had no kinship ties.
After a while they directed me to the "idamo" of the place, the headman, which name was Raimundo, right by where we were sitting. I walked up a hill, and had my first encounter with the Warao headman at Cambalache.

Raimundo was a very hospitable guy, and as it turned out, he came from a naghbouring village, and we soon established some kin relations. He turned out to be a cousin of my mother Anusiata. And even more supprising, I had just met his father a couple of weeks erlier. After exchainging new about the village, I explained why I was there. I told him that I was interested in understanding life at the garbage heap, and that I was going to write a book about it. He agreed to take me to the garbage heap the following day.

Objects and identity: hammocks and canoes

In addition to canoes, hammock are made. The hammock are gendered objects, as is the canoe. That means that the women in the village identify with making hammocks, while men identify with canoes. Women that are acknowledged as very competent hammock makers are refered to as Moyoty, the same as men.

Connected to these art making practise are a range of stories, or myths, that refer back to their ancestors and how they managed to acquire this knowledge. A general structure in the stories is that an object, tool, or phenomenon has its origin in a human. For example, one story about the origin of threads for hammock tells of a young woman that is wakes up alone in the forest. Her family has abandoned her. She searches everywhere for her family, but she is unable to locate them. After a while she transforms herself into the Ohidu palm. Her hair is transformed into the palm leaves that the Warao extract palm fibers, her arms into the branches one can make spears for fishing, and the body into the palm stem, that the Warao can extract palm starch. All this she does so that she will make herself indispensable for the Warao.

This myth also referes over to some of the changes that has occurred during the last decades among the Warao. Earlier, palm starch was the major subsistence among the, while today they have turned to gardening. In their gardens they grow Ure, a tuber originally imported from Sri Lanka. The Cappuchin missionaries, eager to spread the gospel of God, found it hard to do the job when the Waraos where far into the forest looking for Ohidu palm. The palm often grows far from the major rivers, and the Warao turned to the forest to find their food. Gardening on the other hand, made it possible to stay all year closer to the major rivers. Today, all the people in my village had gardens, while it was very rear that anyone would make palm starch.

But, even though they did not make palm starch, this palm still have major significance. It is from this palm that they gather grubs (larva's), make small arrows to hunt birds, spears for fishing, and most importantly, fibers for making hammocks.

Fishing and gardening is probably the most important day to day activities, alongside hunting and gathering. In this society, men's and woman's worlds are separated: Men fish, woman make food; women make hammocks, men make canoes; Men build houses, woman make food. Though decision regarding village life is taken by the men, women exercise influence over their men. Especially when it comes to the dividing the food, which is a woman prerogative.

Warao, Delta and the Village

The Warao are an Amerindian group living in the Orinoco delta, Venezuela The delta area is inaccessible because the wetlands are flooded daily by the diurnal tides. The ground consists for the most part of mud and peat. In the swamps it is nearly impossible to walk because you step through the mud at all times. The myriads of rivers and channels in this area is an important means of transportation. The delta is completely flat, and during tide, most of the ground is covered by water. In these wetlands the Warao build palm thatched houses on stilts, or so called palefitos. All the households are built along the rivers edges, or Waha, side by side. A houshold usually consists of three houses, Hisabanoko (cooking place), Hanoko (hammock place) and lastly nahimanoko (menstruation place).

In between the houses there is built a walking bridge to connect all the houses. The Hisabanok, or cooking place, is located in the river. Arriving and departure in the canoe is always from here, since there are no paths going from the village. Each houshold have one or more canoes.

Most older men possess the knowledge required to build such canoes, but you also have expert canoe makers, called Moyotu.

Living traditions

The Moyoto usually also have shamanic powers, and the ability to talk with a range of spirits. Some of these spirits are thought to penetrate the body, making people sick. The shamans job is then to take out these spirits, singing to them, and offering tobacco smoke as offerings. While persuading the spirits to leave the sick persons body, the shaman massages the patiants body where the spirits entered, taking the spirit in his hand, and blowing it away into the sky. Even if the missonaries have been "working" with the Waraos for several decades, these local belife systems are stil vigerously practiced.

Blogging: an incredably self-involved activity

I was just thinking about why I suddenly got this kick on blogging. I think it is because it is all about me. I'm writing stuff that really should not concern anybody but me. Its half digested thinking, and sometimes not even that. But still I have this imagined audience, and a tingeling feeling that there might be someone out there that would have an interest in reading what I'm thinking. Strange stuff...

The owner of God

In November I'm going to a conference in Copenhagen, named Amerindian Cosmologies: Identity and Power. I am going to give a paper about the Diosarotu - the owner of God. Its the same that I called my masters thesis, but after one more year of fieldwork, I have a lot more date on that topic. Here is my very short abstract

"During my fieldwork among the Warao I found a new form of shamanism which could be translated as “the owner of God”. Diosarout is a mix of words from two different language; The Spanish word “Dios”, which means God, and the Warao word “arotu”, which means owner, or manipulator. This form of shamanism has some similarities with the other forms of shamanism, like Hoarotu, Wisiarout and the Bahanarotu. All these words have the suffix – arotu in the end. If we accept that –arotu is a prefix that implicates owner, Diosarotu means owner of God. In my paper I want to explore the possibility of understanding shamanism as a type of knowledge, and how this knowledge assimilates aspects of the missionary teachings, trying to make themselves as powerful, or even more powerful than the missionaries."

I figure this will be one of the sub themes in my thesis - the material culture of shamanism?? Words as things??

Writing up is like running up and down street and back allies in a big city you have never visited, and that it seem you will never realy get a hang of.

Writing English and imagining the "other"

Another point with taking up blogging is to practice my English. Given that English is a second language for me, it takes quite a lot of practice. And blogging makes you more aware of the fact that you are actually writing for someone - I might imagine that some of my friend or colleagues are reading this. I wonder if that is one of the things that makes blogging such a good idea. You can practise informally, but still be aware that some might read what you write. And thinking that someone actually is reading what is being written means a lot for your own motivation. Instead of sitting in your office, writing stuff for your self, someone is reading it....

Making meals

This is my adoptive mother, Anusita, cutting up Ure, a type of tuber that is essential to any meal. The tuber is poisoness, so it need to be cookes for about an hour. Usually we just put the fish in the pot and let it simmer together. Its not the freatest meal in the world, but as allways, it is just a question about how hungry you are. Behind Anusiatas back is the fire place. Getting dry wood can be difficult in these wet lands, and ususally you have some wood in you garden. So when you go get tubers in the garden, you bring along some firewood as well. It's my fish in the picture, and I just came back after pulling my fishing net. There is one cat fish and a Nei - which I don't know the name of in english.

The material life of the Warao

The theoretical theme of my thesis is on material culture. Given that I am working at a museum, and the project announcement was a call for "new theory on material culture", this is a thread I have actively been perusing since I started out this project. I really did not have a great interest in the field of material culture. I thought is sounded a bit daft, and thought that the combination of "material", and "culture" at the same time gave us a picture of how wrong it is possible to think about culture. I am here of course talking about the "Great Divide", Cartesian dualism and so on. 

But when I started digging into this field, I found a great deal of very innovating and inspiring theory. Reading guys like Miller, Tilley, Rawlings, started to inspire me in reflecting on materiality in a different way. Of course Ingold is also someone I have been reading a lot of. 

Anyway, what I find interesting and challenging when it comes to the Warao and their material culture, is their engagement in industrialized goods in combination with their day to day activity. 

The Warao I have lived with are fishers and gardeners. People paddle out to their gardens and fishing spots, travel into the woods to gather fruits and other edible stuff. All in all it is what you would expect indians to do, and the materiality of canoes, bowes, arrows, shotguns, palm thatched roofs, houses built on stilts and so on, are all in place. In addition to this I found a range of industrialized consumer goods in the village, like stereos, TV´s and radios, while the media show was run by small generators people had acquired in the city. People where having parties where they where dancing salsa, watching the last "Lord of the Ring" movie, and listening to the news. 

And it is grasping the meaning of these changing consumer pattern that I am trying to get at. What is the consequence of engaging with this type of materiality in this place? How to you avoid traps of boxing this materiality on the one side of "traditional" and the other "modern"?

Village life

The village I lived in was named "Crazy Waters". This name referes to the troubled waters, or currents that clash into eachother. The village is located in the littoral zone of the Orinoco Delta, which means it is in the costal area of the delta. The tidal waters meet the Orinoco river coming down from the Amazonia, causing several vertgo streems. In this picture, as the sun is going down, you can see the tide coming inn, starting to cover the mud banks on the outskirts of the village. On the left you see part of the bridge, or Hoisi. All the housholds have one, where they enter and leave in their canoes. In this aquatic environment, all families have a canoe.

This is a picture of me and my family. Living among the Warao, on usually relate to people who stay with them for a longer period through kinship ties. In this picture we see my brother, Juan, with one of his children on his arm. Next to him is Anusiata and Mateo, who kidly have adopted me, taken care of me, and made sure I have not gotten myself into to much trouble. Anusiata and Mateo was refered to by the other in my village as "your mother and father" Hirani, Hirima. They called my their child, Hiauka. I usually called them by their names, but somethimes we would use these close kinship ties. When third parities was involved I often used "My mother" or "My father" Marani, Marima, while they said Mauka.

Being integrated like this into a family was more than a little strange, but it was also very comforting and supportive. Being in a complete different part of the world, far away from friends and family in Norway, being part of something made it all a lot easier.

I have been in the same Warao village for to longer periods: Once in 2001 from May till October, and from the summer of 2006 till summer of 2007. The family constellation in my household has changed substantially from the first untill the second fieldwork. During the first fieldwork we where 16 in the household, while in the second fieldwork we where just four.

I must admit, it was a little better when we where just four people.

The other three that was in out household was ofcourse Anusiata and Mateo. The third Junio, who was their grandchild. It is very ordinary for the Warao to adopt childre, escpecially their childrens children.

My Warao blog

I am currently writing my PhD tesis about the Warao, a small indigenous group living in the Orinoco Delta, Venezuela. My fieldwork is finished, and now I only have to write the thesis. The process of writing up is slightly more difficult than I thought, but it is slowly developing. I guess the problem is first and foremost that it takes so much longer than I had imagened.

The point of this blog is to have someone to share my thoughts. Writing, and academic work in general, tends to be solitary, so bloging seems to be a good idea at the moment. I have absolutly no ambitions for this blog, exept maybe bother a few friends and colleagues with my thoughts. Lets see how it works out.