Geography Reference
In-Depth Information
New People, what kind of world was the cosmos of shame and what kind
of life could inhabit it?
The Ayoreo word for shame was
ajengome
. In the stories I heard about
ajengome
, it was linked to the reddening of certain internal organs and the
resulting sensations of heat. It was a bodily state that could carry shades
of obedience and piety as well as impropriety and cowardice. It always
implied subordination. More than anything else, I was told,
ajengome
was
an indication of individual weakness.
Ajengome
, they said, arose from attribution by another person. It came
from a witnessed transgression. It could be both a verb and an object. You
did not have
ajengome
because you steal from another, sleep with some-
one who is not your spouse, or run from enemies; you have
ajengome
when others find out.
3
Ajengome
was most often described as a function
of failing to act, speak up, or assert one's will, but it could also arise from
acquiescing to the negative judgments of others. Like the Ayoreo words
-itodo
(“to be afraid of”) and
-angari
(“to listen to”), to have shame was an
implicit acknowledgment of one's subordinate position.
I was told that the opposite of
ajengome
was
ajingaque
, or righteous
anger. Like
ajengome
, it was associated with a hot bodily interior. This
kind of anger was said to overpower the
ayipie
. It was the appropriate way
to refuse the attribution of
ajengome
. As Siquei told me, one day when
we were out hunting, “If someone is very angry, his gallbladder moves.
It sounds like
tucu, tucu, tucu
because of his anger. He trembles, his face
changes. He doesn't know anything. He doesn't recognize the world.” He
paused, looked away. “He is capable of killing anything.”
Ajengome
was
not felt equally by everyone, and this uneven distribution provided most
of its intimate force. It was said that a very strong person never had shame
for any reason, including the most flagrant transgression. Those aspiring
to high status must contest the label.
To illustrate this point, the adults in Arocojnadi told me a story about
a warrior I'll call Asi'de. This man lived so long ago that his grandchildren
would now be old people. He was a huge man, a head taller than the next
tallest warrior. He was also very strong. No one ever beat him in wrestling
contests and he killed many enemies with his bare hands. When he was
still a young man he separated from his people and made a new band. He
led raids on his enemies that were ever more daring and risky and each
time he returned stronger. He began to violate
puyaque
taboo prohibi-
tions, the minor ones at first and then the more powerful ones. If he
wanted the wife of any of his followers, he would take her. If someone
