r The San Blas Indians of Panama THEIR RIGHTS AND INDEPENDENCE BY ALFRED F. LOOMIS Author of "The Cruise of the Hippocampus," etc. ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY S. C. RUSSELL AND THE AUTHOR [EARLY this spring the San Blas Indians, whom I have endeavored to portray in the following article as a happy, peace-loving people, rebelled against the Panamanians, who had constituted themselves rulers of their territory and killed several, including a nephew of the governor, Señor Mojica. At about the same time the Indians implored the United States to free them of Panamanian domination, which they characterized as unjust and extortionate. A United States cruiser was despatched to the San Blas territory with American and Panamanian officials aboard, and before long it was announced by American Minister South that an agreement had been effected. By the agreement Panama was to continue her nominal control of the San Blas region and the Indians were to return the rifles and ammunition which they had captured; but the Indians were to be left free to maintain order among themselves, and the Panamanians were no longer to be allowed to impose schools upon the Indians. Thus it appears that the Indians have slightly bettered their position by their rebellious demonstration. A little more than two years ago, when I visited the San Blas country, Señor Mojica told me that the policy of the Panamanian government with respect to the Indians was one of "fraternization." He implied that by force of example the Panamanians were inducing the Indians to embrace the principles of modern civilization. My own definition of "fraternization," as formed by observation and instruction, is somewhat different. Before the Hippocampus, flying the United States ensign, had dropped anchor off the custom-house at Porvenir, we were warned in guarded tones by a kindly negro on a native sloop to "hoist the Panama flag before they fine you." The negro, needless to say, was not familiar with the protection afforded by the American flag; but it is by fines, taxes, unjust imprisonment, and corporal punishment that the Indians have actually been fraternized. It is to be hoped that this Indian nation of only 30,000 souls, survivors of the Spanish oppression which exterminated the Aztecs to north of them and the Incas to the south, will, after four centuries of jealously preserved freedom, be permitted to retain their independence. We Americans profess a lively regard for the welfare of small peoples. Here is a small people, only one hundred miles from our own Panama Canal, who would be more than grateful for a portion of our solicitude.] бог Nargana, which is also called Rio Diablo, is the show-place of the San Blas region. Occasional parties of Canal Zone tourists come to it, the Panamanians maintain a jail, custom-house, and barracks, and the white man's influence is revealed by the frame house. On only two other islands in the territory-Tupile and Porvenir-has the Panama government established itself. I F there is one place in the world where the average yachtsman would not care to go aground or to exhibit any other lapse of seamanship it is in the Gulf of San Blas, in Panama, for among the cocoanut-covered, sun-filled islands of this placid gulf live a tribe of Indians who are instinctive masters of the sailing art. But, when grounding is an accomplished, although inadvertent fact, there are, by the same token, few places where one can be assured of quicker, more intelligent, or better-natured assistance in getting afloat. Consequently, when my wife and I, cruising together through this fairy-land of the tropics, saw the ground rise up to the keel of our stanch yawl, we felt in one instant the chagrin of disgracing ourselves under the eyes of experts, and in the next the exhilaration of having come to grief among helpful friends. Three cayucas tumbled out from the near-by village of Nargana, and in less time than it took me to stop our auxiliary engine and start it again in the reverse direction, we were boarded by seven Indians. No need to explain to them how it would be best to float us off, or to attempt to maintain command of my tight little craft-these half-naked, wild-looking, but thoroughly attractive savages took matters in their own hands immediately. By force of example I did convey to one little septuagenarian that his weight on the bow of the boat would help lighten her stern, and for a moment or two he and I danced in perfect abandon on the bowsprit, while the air was split by his shrill shouts of enjoyment. But the remaining half-dozen Indians, without waste of word or motion, ran out an anchor astern and hauled us into deep water. Then, for no expected reward beyond the joy of riding in a so-ulu (which is any boat that is not a cayuca, or dugout canoe), they remained aboard until we had left the shoals behind us and were safely out into deep water. In any attempt to describe the primitive people of Mongolian inheritance who live so close to our Panamanian possessions, first mention must be made of their boats and of their sailing ability. As boys from two years upward, these copper-colored Indians live in or on the water, first romping in the breakers on the coral reefs or sailing dugouts which seem no bigger than a pumpkin-seed, and then in maturity fishing, or conveying produce to Colon for sale. Such good sailors are they that it is a commonplace in Colon that "It's rough down San Blas way and nothing has come through but a couple of cayucas." What manner of craft is it that will venture out into storms severe enough to keep the coasting-schooners in port? Is it a high-decked, deep-moulded motor-boat of the life-savers' model that cannot be overturned or swamped? No. It is nothing more nor less than a log of wood, fourteen to twenty-five feet long, hollowed to a shell with the most elementary tools, and pointed at both ends. It has no deck, and no ballast, and no keel, but it happens to be shaped in such a way that, when handled by a native, it is one of the most seaworthy boats that ever floated. In such a boat three Indians will seat themselves, after a cargo of cocoanuts, tortoise-shell, limes, plantains, and so on, has been comfortably stowed, and set out into the open Caribbean with the assurance, born of generations of experience, that they will reach their destination. When there is no wind, but only the homing rollers heave across the sea, they paddle with the short-handled, long-bladed, roughhewn paddles that look so unwieldy to the northern canoeist. And when the wind blows as it generally does they hoist a crazy sail, and while one man steers and another bails, the third holds on to the guys supporting the straining mast and leans backward over the windward gunwale to keep the little ship on a less uneven keel. they permit no man not of their race to remain ashore at night, and that the women wear gold rings in their noses, you have heard all there generally is to tell. The Indians are as anxious to be pilots as they are embarrassed by the eye of the camera. In stature they are short and powerfully developed of chest and arms, but lacking in leg development. When clothes are worn, the shirt is generally outside of the trousers. A soft hat or no hat at all does for ordinary occasions, but the Indian's most cherished possession is a small, ill-fitting derby hat, purchased at the current rate of exchange for one hundred and fifty cocoanuts. For a people who have been known to the white man ever since Columbus set foot on their territory, four hundred years ago, they are curiously shrouded in mystery. Even now when civilization has pushed beyond the farthest frontiers in other directions, there is little known about them. When, travelling through the Panama Canal on an ocean liner, you have heard that the San Blas do not intermarry with whites or blacks, that The reason for this ignorance is not hard to find. When the Spaniards came to the Panama Isthmus they enslaved or killed the natives whom they found there. The San Blas, as it happened, occupied territory that was not intrinsically, or by reason of its location, important to the Conquistadores, and the latter made no determined effort to subjugate them. It happened, moreover, that the San Blas Hippocampus, wanted to look behind the scenes. The lack of transportation facilities, which is the greatest barrier to casual acquaintance with the San Blas, did not apply to us, and, having our snug quarters aboard, we had no inclination to put to the test the Indian prohibition against sleeping on their sandy isles. So, unaccompanied by pilot or deck-hands, we set sail from Colon for the San Blas country. Our first visit ashore was in Carti Village, a group of three islands in the western end of the gulf. At this end of their domain the Indians have become accustomed to the white people, and have even grown reconciled to the sight of manganese ore, taken from their hills, being transported in freighters to the north. It rying still smaller mites of humanity on their hips, and comfortably naked little boys with not a care in the worldwere frankly curious and amused with us. Who among them had ever seen a funnier sight than a white woman (not an albino, who, everybody knows, has white skin and pink eyes, but a blue-eyed white woman), clothed in khaki waist and skirt, white linen hat, and shoes and stockings? With laughter and half-stifled shouts of amazement the word went around the island that this strange being with her long-legged, bespectacled husband had come ashore from the yacht, and the two were immediately beset on all sides. It would not do, of course, to get in the way of these white strangers as they walked toward the home of the sagala, but what boy or girl could resist the temptation to sneak up behind and feel the texture of the clothes they wore, and the pale, sickly-looking skin of their hands? Despite the warmth of the climate, the women of these islands are wrapped, when clothed for strangers, from the waist nearly to their ankles, in a straight, seamless piece of calico. A shirt-waist, more or less orthodox, with half-length sleeves, is worn, and extending partially over both these garments is a curious slip-on of appliqué work that is peculiar to the region. The appliqué is made from three or four pieces of cheap commercial cloth of different colors, one layer sewed over the next, and each cut out into an intricate design and stitched in a way that would elicit admiration from the finest French seamstress. For ornament the women wear, first and foremost, a gold ring in the nose. The nasal cartilage is pierced when the baby girl is no more than a few days old, and the ring which is then inserted becomes as much a part of the girl as her nose. Large, flat disks of beaten gold are worn pendant from the ears, and around her neck a fashionable San Blas woman displays a collection of necklaces made from shells, seeds, or silver coins. Armlets and anklets of beads wrapped so tight that the extremities are stunted and the flesh protrudes in rolls between the bands are another artificial aid to beauty, and dabs of native pigment applied to cheeks and nose complete the feminine adornment. For comfort and hygiene the straight black hair is bobbed, quite in the modern manner. later become the property of their brides. During all this sartorial discursion Mrs. Loomis and I have been making our way Here the final touch of beauty is shown-the paint on cheeks and nose. The glance of the Indians is friendly and direct. There has been no intermixture of white or black blood, but in many of the natives is seen a Mongolian arrangement of features, betraying Oriental ancestry. The boys, as has been said, wear no clothes at all, and the men only trousers, or a dress costume of shirt, vest, trousers, and derby hat. Bachelors are often distinguished by ear-disks, which under low eaves to the house of the sagala, or chief. Let us now consider ourselves arrived, with a native interpreter, who goes by the name of Charlie McIntosh, waiting to introduce us to the mighty man. He appears and greets us, dusty, perspiring, for he has been making arrangements for a chicha that is to take place the next day. We explain that we |