Geography Reference
In-Depth Information
Some people became so terrified that the slightest noise could provoke
paralysis. Stories are laughingly told of instances in which the sound of
someone walking nearby caused all of the women in the group to enter
a kind of hysteria, crying and running, leaving behind all of their pos-
sessions, stripping off their skirts and running nude to go faster, only to
later discover that the noise had been made by one of their own hunters
returning to camp at the expected hour.
The fear of bulldozers recalled past fears of warriors from enemy Ay-
oreo groups. The Totobiegosode, in particular, had been the frequent
targets of raids aimed at their extermination. Genealogies I compiled
suggest that more than 80 percent of Totobiegosode were killed by en-
emy Ayoreo groups between 1940 and 1979. All Totobiegosode adults
over forty are survivors of more than one attack by raiding parties from
the missions, armed with shotguns and machetes. Most of the men bear
traces of battle on their bodies. A fleshy knob conceals a bullet lodged
against the skull, crooked spines and bent limbs, indecipherable scars and
puckered craters speak of spears, machetes, bullets, clubs. Cutai's mother,
Ajidababia, told of one such attack in the 1960s:
We died there. I was a girl, around nine or ten years old. The enemy arrived. My mother
called me to her and carried me over her shoulder. I do not know why. she carried me
and ran. But she tired because I was heavy. When she stopped to let me down they
killed her. I never ran but that time I ran. I was afraid of the guns that wanted to sting
me and take the blood from my body. something hit me and I fell. They cut me there
with a machete. I ran but fell again. I got up then passed out again. I got up and heard
someone running and it was pejei'daquide. I arrived at a clearing and saw them and
they saw me. I was thirsty but could not look for water. It seemed like I would die that
afternoon. We went back to the place they killed us. no one was there. We arrived
at our camp and I drank water. I put much dirt into my wound. The dirt stopped the
bleeding. I drank water and began to feel better.
One man named Poaji was overcome by bouts of terror after he was
the lone survivor of such an attack. He hid under a bush and watched
silently as his mother, father, siblings, and other relatives were killed and
dismembered. After months alone, he found a friendly group. Decades
later, the slightest sound would cause him to vanish again for months or
years at a time. Siquei and his group found him living alone in a hollow
tree, and he stayed with them for two or three months in 2000 or 2001.
They remembered him as one moment taking delight in the children and
the next trembling with fear. When they heard a chainsaw one morning
