Geography Reference
In-Depth Information
had severe problems. My failed explanation only seemed to confirm what
he had heard. He sucked in his breath in amazement. Then he asked me
to bring him some of this medicine the next time I came. That way, he
said, he would no longer be ashamed in front of the
Cojñone
.
Becoming New, Becoming Ashamed
The 2004 contact with the Areguede'urasade unsettled and tested the ten-
uous Totobiegosode theories of life in
Cojñone-Gari
. The startling appear-
ance of these people promised an epistemic rupture where everything
was up for grabs. Were Totobiegosode contact survivors going to use this
as an opportunity to redefine their own histories and the moral value
of their past lives or not? Capturing the Areguede'urasade was a unique
opportunity for Totobiegosode to reflect on their collective life project.
The life project they articulated, however, was based on repeating the
same subordination they had suffered twenty years before. By October of
2004, the former members of the Areguede'urasade group were divided
up among their
isasorone
captors.
Ritual objects were defiled and broken to show that they had no
power. The New People had to provide game to the others in the village
who were no longer skilled hunters. Most of their possessions were taken
from them and sold by Dejai to a variety of
Cojñone
eager to possess the
material artifacts of isolation. The settlement of Chaidi, established at
the very edge of the forest, was set up to resemble the forms of a mission,
complete with a small store run by Dejai, a school, and Bobby's open-
walled church. The first Spanish words the former Areguede'urasade
learned were
monte
, for forest, and
sucio
, for dirty.
By 2005, Areguede had died and the group's matriarch starved herself
to death. Siquei was morose and withdrawn. He spent most of his time
alone in his house, carving bowls of
palo santo
wood to sell to middlemen
for the handicraft market. Dejai sold all of his former possession and kept
the money from every third bowl he made. The rhythmic pounding of
his tools continued far into the night. It was hard for me not to hear rage
and loss in the steady procession of staccato knocks.
When I think of that long ago time I spent with the Areguede'urasade
in 2004, I remember hunger, a desperate frustration, and Ebedai'date's
voice. I can still hear the high whine she made without stopping for three
hours straight the second time she rode in a truck, perched like a bundle
on top of the bench seat. Because of the speed, they said. I think of the
first time we sat together by her fire when she grabbed my arm and told
