Undermining the anti-legacy
As many are aware, several of us are back from a splendid trip to the Amazon. We extend a million thank yous for the support in prayer and finances and logistics that made this dream a reality. As I’m sure you have learned from the Black Dwarf, God is laying before us a tremendous opportunity to bring a cup of living water to the Sateré-Mawé nation, who are ironically surrounded by the largest river in the world. What we are on the brink of is a work that could span several generations and have an impact that will last into eternity. So, while others were breaking their backs digging holes, my charge was to film, film and film some more. In about a year or so, start asking me where you can see the movie that tells the story, and hopefully I can toss you a DVD.
The picture you see above is a photo I snapped while taking a break from filming the digging crew. Here the spent cigarette rests on a hand-hewn beam in the main community building. I took this picture because it was one of the many examples of the disjointed courtship the Sateré have had with the outside world. It made me curious to know in what ways their exposure has improved their way of life or handicapped it.
When I first walked the perimeter of this village, almost immediately I noticed an absence of art and craft. What I did encounter were simple huts made of woven straw and dried palm, or wooden plank structures with thatch roofing. Beyond this I didn’t see any indigenous textiles, pottery, jewelry or clothing. In fact, I failed to see decorative elements of any kind any where in the village, except the loud “hyper-sport” apparel that had thoroughly replaced the traditional Sateré garb, or the occasional informational graffiti scrawled on the side of a hut. There I was, armed with a new wide-angle lens, Marantz field recorder, shotgun mic, even a Banana Republic “Castro” hat, and there was no indigenous music to record, no dance to film, no creative essence or rhythm to capture. On our last night, we were invited to attend a sacred ceremony that involves a glove, a line dance and a lot of really pissed off ants. Okay, I’ll admit, the glove did have some flair to it with a simple woven geometric design and topped with red and white feathers. But many of us were taken aback by how informal and “un-ceremonial” the ceremony was. A few times I caught myself thinking “C’mon people! Work it! Put some feeling into it! This isn’t a dress rehearsal people!” Yes, this could be my Western Romanticism talking but still I pondered. In every society in every age there exists artistic expression. This is a fact of life. Whatever any given society values, those values will inevitably be expressed through its art. It doesn’t matter if a society is poor, oppressed, self-sufficient or otherwise. Every anthropologist will agree that vital creative elements historically serve to identify and preserve core values of all people in all times. But as far as I could tell, the Wasai clan had been stripped clean of any aesthetic legacy left by their ancestors. It was downright eerie. This is not what I expected. I did my research before hand. I could easily identify the stylistic tendencies of Sateré craft, which is abundant and well documented. But in this village, the kids sang songs, but they were Sateré translations of English songs sung in Portuguse. The kids carried around handmade flutes, but no melody was blown through them. Even the ceremonial paint that marked young boys for their impending rite-of-passage was hastily applied and void of mature design. Could there be an adequate explanation for this Amazonian anomaly? I have a theory.
In one form or another, the Sateré have a long history of interaction with outsiders, but its effect is varied depending on the accessibility and governing philosophy of any given clan. The Jesuits were the first to evangelize and establish a mission in Sateré territory in the mid 17th century, though this only touched a small percentage of the tribe’s total population. Throughout the 18th century until very recently, the traditional borders have been swiftly dissapearing due to illegal settlers, tribal conflict, military and industrial expansion in cities such as Maués and Itaituba, and most of all the growing demand for forest product (namely, rubber and rosewood). All of this upheaval has lured a stream of Indians into leaving village life for promise of a better future in the city. Unfortunately, this is just another telling of the gold rush. When Indians arrive in the promise land and find that there is no place or work for “savages,” they cannot easily return home, they have just burned their union card, so to speak. So there is a steadily growing population of Indians in limbo, persecuted in the modern world, shunned by their own people.
In trying to gather information about a population that is comprised of insular communities and no written tradition, the common arc of any tribe’s history is difficult to trace. The only way I can make heads or tails of it is to assume that the Sateré-Mawé are a diverse people sharing a common thread of loyalties and traditions. Beyond that, their broad ancestries start to step on each other’s toes. But after spending some time with Shagas and with the Tuchaua (village chief), I gained a macro view into a more specific and localized spiritual history. That’s when the light bulb began to flicker. I was told that in the thick forest that surrounds the village clearing you can find a beautiful but very poisonous caterpillar. This is where the Sateré derive their name, which translates as “burning caterpillar.” In the recent past, the Sateré lost their will to continue as a tribe and began exterminating themselves to prevent the continuation of their race. I didn’t ask how this was done or how long this campaign of death lasted, but it was apparently a wide-spread phenomenon that certainly posed a serious threat to the tribe’s existence. There are documented reports of entire villages disappearing in the 1920’s, though the cause of this is uncertain. It was explained to me that though the Sateré were beautiful like the caterpillar, they were a dangerous people, and the land and the world would have greater benefit if they not to exist. Now I’ve done a lot of thinking about this and I still can’t comprehend the magnitude of this story. I can only describe it as an anti-legacy. But God be praised, through the introduction of the Gospel by a Wycliff missionary couple in the 1950’s, this demonic activity was brought to a halt. Thank you Wycliff Bible Translators.
My layman’s theory is that the lack of creative expression among the Wasai village is the visual essay of a people trying to rise out of the ashes and rubble of their suicidal forefathers. If you are inventing your own demise, why would you engage in creative pursuits? Only French existentialists can get away with that, and even Camus was caught carefully plotting out his future. If there is nothing left to believe in, there’s nothing worth expressing. Could it really be that God is about to restore the years the locusts have stolen from these beautiful people? Shagas and Marcos are confident that soon the Tuchaua will invite us to plant a church in his village. Wasai (or Victor as he is also called) is not yet a follower of Christ, nor are any of his people. But as we have clearly observed, God is drawing him in a profound way. Part of my prayer is that as we bring the Word of God to this community, their art will return and speak of Tupana’s love in a thoroughly Sateré way. The second half of this tribe’s formal name is Mawé, which means “intelligent and curious parrot.” What treasure lies buried under the sleeping hearth of these people? Light Your fire Lord! Release the prisoner, those who sit i darkness into a marvelous light. Where there is hope, there is song, where there is joy, there is dance and where there is truth, there is visual art. Now, by the manifold mercies of God, Lamb of God Fellowship gets to ask that question a hundred times over-What does the Sateré Jesus look like? How does He carry Himself? How does He speak? I will give anything to be there ready with my field recorder when the first new melodies arise from the children, for then we will know that the wells are working.
August 22nd, 2008 at 12:00 pm
Well reasoned and plausible theory.
I wonder if the gospel will inspire the Satare to creativity? I also wonder if other clans have more indigenous art to show for themselves?
It would be an odd thing if outsiders like us end up being a stimulus for the Satare to create new arts and crafts?
August 22nd, 2008 at 12:57 pm
Other Sateré clans do have beautiful art and craft to show. I firmly believe that the gospel will produce this kind of fruit in the communities that He allows us to touch. God jealously longs for the spirit He created to be put inside of them. Here’s a link that has some striking pictures that is definitely work checking out.
http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/popup?id=3030210
August 22nd, 2008 at 10:16 pm
I’ve often wondered if our obsession with the arts-debate in the western church is just a construct. Kind of like when people think that democracy and capitalism are “christian” ideals that will improve things for people. There’s part of me that has been so educated against the “noble savage” idea that I perceive taking anything from our worldview (other than the gospel) as invasive.
But those pictures are undeniable–of *course* the satere had, and have, indigenous arts. And when you think of all the cultures the west has almost or completely destroyed, it’s the least we can do, as Christians, to try and help restore their culture to the unique expression God gave them originally.
The lack of western dress in that branch of the tribe is in direct relation to the quantity of creative objects they had as part of their lives. There’s always a little pang of sadness when I see a tribe in western dress. This did my heart a little better. Thanks, Ben.
August 22nd, 2008 at 11:08 pm
Your theory makes a lot of sense Ben! I wish I knew more about the Brazilian Indian in general to be able to give an intelligent opinion. I’ll ask around while in Brazil next week and see what the Brazilians have to say about it…