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reason. He said that Dejai did not hunt but that he still ate enough food
to be fat. Siquei said that his own status was superior to that of Dejai. He
yelled in rapid-fire Ayoreo that Dejai had only killed a jaguar when he
lived in the forest but that he had killed many enemies. This meant that
Dejai was
cucha bisideque
, a worthless thing.
Dejai's authority had never been so directly challenged by anyone
since 1986. He flushed with rage and stood up. He shouted that Siquei
was worthless and that he should leave if he did not like life among the
Cojñone
. He said he should give back the tin roof on his house, that he
was ignorant and stupid, that he knew nothing. Dejai screamed that he
had power over Siquei as his
isasori
and that Siquei was afraid of him.
Siquei by this time was visibly upset. His muscles twitched and his dig-
ging stick trembled as his feet beat an irregular figure eight in the dust.
Dejai kept going. He grabbed his shotgun and said that if he hadn't
contacted Siquei and the others, they would still be living like animals in
the forest, naked, dirty, and afraid. He said that acting angry would not
make anyone forget that Siquei was ashamed, would always be ashamed
because he let Dejai contact his people. That he was no
dacasute
at all,
but a worthless man.
Siquei tried to respond. But there in front of the encircled onlookers,
the response died on his lips. It would not come out. He could only man-
age to stammer, spittle flying as he tried to form the words. The others
began to laugh loudly and to mock his stutter, the sound of the jeers
drowning out his voice. He retreated to his house and did not emerge
again that day.
Refusing Shame
I spent Christmas 2006 in Arocojnadi. The other guest was Iodé, a fifteen-
year-old girl who supported herself and a shifting cast of relatives by
working as a
cuajajo
, or so-called little bird in town. At first, she seemed
out of place among the smoky fires and gentle banter. It wasn't the single
eyebrow painted across her face, white powder on her brown cheeks, or
six-inch gold heels. It was that she would only talk in an exaggerated
voice, pushy and tough, ridiculing the backwardness and remoteness of
the villagers, nonchalant and unashamed when they called her a prosti-
tute, replying, “
Puta'date uyu
, I am the mother of whores.”
She told us her rates, how she charged Ayoreo men three dollars, Bra-
zilians two dollars, Mennonites one dollar, and if someone was cute it
didn't cost anything. Cheaper for the Strangers, she said, even though
