Nicolás Maduro: “Only Socialism can be in balance with nature, it is the only way to the preservation of the environment and the salvation of the human species. Let us save the World!”
There has been a massive oil spill in Venezuela. It happened in early August, 2020.
It has impacted the Morrocoy national park in western Venezuela.
Per the Caracas Chronicles: “There was a new spill in El Palito: the residue pond is full and the experts say that every time it rains, the pond overflows, bringing oil to the sea and accumulating one spill after the other. Up to 40,000 barrels of oil have been spilled into the coasts of Falcón and Carabobo states, causing an ecocide that could be irreversible with how often the spills are happening. There has been no damage control.”
The Environmentalists have said little or nothing.
No word from Leonardo yet. Or Harrison. Or Al. Etc.
One tweet from Greta.
Mass media? Crickets.
Since Venezuela is a Socialist regime, oil spills cannot be reported or made too big a deal about. Goes against the narrative.
Above photos taken August/September, 2020 Before the spill(s)
One of the least accessible, not to mention explored, areas of the world is the Territorio Amazonas in Venezuela. The Amazon River flows through part of the territory through the Rio Negro (see here and here for posts on Humboldt’s adventures on or near the Río Negro).
The length of the Río Grande (Great River, now known as the Amazon River) was first sailed, most improbably, by Captain Francisco de Orellana.
Orellana was a friend (some say a cousin) of Francisco Pizarro and helped the latter in the conquest of Peru in 1535. For his services, Pizarro named Orellana governor of Guayaquil in what is today Ecuador. Concurrently, Pizarro named Gonzalo Pizarro, his half-brother, to lead an expedition into the South American interior to find the “Land of Cinnamon” and he also appointed Orellana as his second in command. The expedition met in Quito and Gonzalo Pizarro sent Orellana back to Guayaquil to recruit troops and also commission horses for the mission. Pizarro felt he could not wait for Orellana’s return and proceeded to leave Quito in February, 1541.
Orellana arrived in Quito with the men and horses and, finding Pizarro gone, immediately commenced the pursuit of the main expeditionary force, making contact in March. By that time, over 3,000 Indians and over 100 Spanish had died or deserted, “melting away into the jungle.”
They did reach an area of Cinnamon trees and built a small settlement there, named Canelos (“Cinnamon”), a parish still in existence today. By then, they had been set upon by head hunters, disease, and hunger which had taken a dreadful toll. Not far from the settlement they came upon a huge serpentine yellow-waterred river called the Napo. Where did this river lead to? These men immediately began to build a brigantine on its banks and Pizarro ordered Orellana to sail downriver to find food and return once he’d found such.
However, once the craft went out it was drafted by the strong current at 4 to 5 knots. Orellana left Pizarro and his ragged, half starved men on the banks of the Napo. The craft came to the mouth of the river onto the vast Amazon. Efforts to return to Pizarro came to naught and he and the men with him sailed down the entire length of the monstrous Amazon River.
Accompanying Orellana on this momentous odyssey was the missionary friar, Gaspar de Carvajal, who eventually published his Relación del nuevo descubrimiento del famoso río Grande que descubrió por muy gran ventura el capitán Francisco de Orellana (“Account of the recent discovery of the famous Grand river which was discovered by great good fortune by Captain Francisco de Orellana”).
For centuries his work was considered too fantastic to be taken seriously for he talked about large settlements and towns along the river’s banks as well as paths and roads and other constructions. He also talked about Amazons. However, his Relación has been taken more seriously in recent years, including by the great 19th century English botanist explorer, Richard Spruce.
But for our purpose today, let us see what Carvajal had to say about the encounter at the mouth of the Trompetas River in the eastern Amazon River, where, after sailing down, down, down, and coming to the Trompetas, they had to battle with the fiercest of Indians they had come against to that moment:
“I want it to be known what the reason was why these Indians defended themselves in this manner, It must be explained that they are the subjects of and tributaries to the Amazons; and when our coming was known to them, they went to them to ask help, and there came as many as ten or twelve of them, for we ourselves saw these women captains who were there fighting in front of all the Indians as women captains, and these fought so courageously that the Indian men did not dare to turn their backs and anyone who did turn his back they killed with clubs right there before us…. These women are very white and tall and have hair very long and braided and wound about the head…they are very robust and go naked save that their privy parts are covered; with their bows and arrows in their hands doing as much fighting as ten Indian men….”
Carvajal wrote that after few days after the fight with the Amazons he “came to a pleasant country where there were Evergreen-oaks and Cork Trees.” That would be near today’s Santarem, about 500 miles from the mouth of the Amazon River. A bishop in the Antilles, upon hearing this tale, asked, “Did these Amazons cut off their right breasts so as to use the bow more easily?” This was believed by some Greeks who fought female warriors repeatedly, according to Greek histories and legends. Orellana did not know such stories. He and Carvajal merely reported what they had seen and experienced.
Upon his return to Spain, the king’s court disbelieved him, even though other Spanish expeditionaries had heard persistent reports about Amazons, though never had seen them. Spruce writes:
“The voyagers heard rumors of the Amazons’ existence long before reaching them. An Indian chief on the Napo called the Amazons Coniapuyara, the masterful women, the old Indian went into some detail about them, but Orellana lacked a good understanding of the language and let the matter go by until their brigantine reached the río Trombetas, about 600 miles from the mouth of the river…. There they were attacked by Indians led by women. The Amazons were tall, fair, robust, naked except for skins about their loins. The bow and arrow in their hands they wielded with deadly accuracy.”
Orellana and Carvajal reported what they saw. It was not that Orellana mistook long-haired Indian men for women: he had lived two years among the Indians of the Upper Amazon — Jivaros, Zaparos, Huambizas — where all the males wore their hair waist-long and were attired in knee-length skirts.
Most interestingly, the 50 men who followed Orellana on that extraordinary voyage appeared at court in the presence of the king (Carlos V). Although all of them were not favorably disposed to Orellana, they nevertheless affirmed that they were indeed attacked by Indians led by Amazons.
As Spruce put it: “It is incredible that fifty persons, and among them a religious priest, should agree in guaranteeing the truth of a lie, especially when nothing was to be gained by it.”
He also saw that all the famous authorities on the Americas — including Humboldt — agreed that the Amazons tradition had been based on fact. Most of the missionaries of the 18th century testified to the same tradition. It was not uncommon for Indians, in confession, to admit having visited periodically the “women living alone.” And, with respect to Orellana’s expedition having fought the Amazons, no Indian tribe doubted it.
Where did these light-skinned women warriors come from? Some researchers posit that after the Trojan Wars they scattered across the globe, with some coming to the shores of South America. Others believe they came during the time of the Phoenecians (1200 BC) who were known to sail the world. We really do not know.
What happened to them?
An old Indian with whom Spruce spoke told him that his forefathers said that after the Spaniards and Portuguese began to settle in larger numbers, the Amazons retired from their villages near the Trombetas and migrated to somewhere on the Río Negro. He also told Spruce that many an Indian, long from home, confessed the he had spent several months among the warrior women. The Amazons would meet the invited Indian at a place agreed upon, then dismiss him with presents of gold and green stones. He carried back the male children who had reached the age of three.
Green stones? These were known for a long time as Amazon stones. The great 18th century French explorer, La Condamine, had found them worn by Indians in Santarem and these Indians affirmed they had received such from the Amazons. And Sir Walter Raleigh (1591-1618) spoke of Indians on the Orinoco having “chiefly a kinde of greene stones… commonly every king or Casique hath one….”
Possibly, the Amazons migrated to the portion of the Río Negro that flows through the Amazonas State in what is now Venezuela. It is fitting that it be so, as the Río Negro’s name was given by the same Francisco de Orellana who fought the Amazons on the “Grand River”.
The name originally given to the Grand River was Río Orellana. But that was changed to Río Amazonas based on his own comments describing it as “the river of the Amazons”. The great territory in Venezuela was also named accordingly: Territorio Amazonas, which became a state in the 90s.
Gonzalo Pizarro made it back to Quito two years later, very ill and with very few men who had survived with him. He went on to rule Peru after his brother’s death, but this had not been sanctioned by the king and he was defeated in battle, tried, found guilty of treason, and beheaded in Peru in 1548.
Gaspar de Carvajal returned to Peru in 1545, three years after his eventful partnership with Orellana. He lived a long, fruitful life, dying there in 1584.
Francisco Orellana’s astonishing expedition took place in 1542. He returned to the Amazon in 1545, but that journey was far more grim than the first and he died, according to his wife “of grief”; according to other sources, he drowned in the river he once had called “the river of the Amazons.”
Río Negro, Territorio Amazonas, Venezuela
Parque Nacional Serranía La Neblina (The Misty Range National Park). Mt. Phelps is the lower peak (9,800 ft) and is in the south of Amazonas State in Venezuela. Pico da Neblina is the higher peak (9,900 ft) is in the north of Amazonas State in Brazil. Río Autana, an Orinoco River tributary, with Cerro Autana at right in the background. This is located close to the Colombian border in the western section of Amazonas State. Humboldt and Bonpland explored and selected many botanical specimens here. Gonzalo Pizarro (1510-1548) Francisco de Orellana (circa 1490 Spain — 1546 Amazon River). Memorial to Richard Spruce (1817-1893) in Ecuador Drawings by Richard Spruce
Looking for a YouTube source on Alexander von Humboldt, I took a break to listen to “Rainy Days and Mondays” performed by The Carpenters (see Vevo link below). As the song played, I scrolled down and read many listener comments, most of whom would make the composer, Paul Williams, proud, as his songs have a knack for nostalgia. Think Rainbow Connection, for example.
One comment serves to summarize most:
“This song brings me back to the 70’s when I was a young boy. All of my sisters and I were still living at home with my mom and dad. My dad worked in a refinery and my mom was a housewife. Dinner was always ready at 4:30pm. We’d watch “I Love Lucy” reruns on our small TV while we ate. Everyone I loved and cared about was still alive and healthy. Now, so many of the people in my life that meant so very much to me are gone. How I wish I could go back in time…but when I hear great music like this, I close my eyes, and all of those wonderful memories come rushing back into my mind.”
I appreciate the comment and recognize it is one shared by many, and my intent is not to criticize, for I do sympathize with the sentiment.
Thornton Wilder wrote about this very emotion in his no-nonsense Pulitzer Prize winning play, Our Town. Very briefly, the story is set on an empty stage, with a stage manager and the performers. It takes us from the childhood to the death of one of the protagonists, Emily. She is distraught at not having had the understanding and wisdom, during life, of appreciating and cherishing every moment with friends and, especially, family. She is given the opportunity to return on her 12th birthday to her home in Grover’s Corners only to see her initial joy turn to pain. The pain comes from seeing how little we appreciate one another and how fast every minute flies by as we go about our daily routines, seemingly ignoring each other.
She begs to return to the cemetery.
The play was written in 1938. It is still popular today, the most recent revival in New York City, in 2009, for the longest production in its history. The message still resonates.
So when we (and we all have some regrets about how we have invested or wasted our time) say we’d like to go back for a day, or a year, would we really do it differently? Would we truly appreciate our home and loved ones?
One way we can answer that question is to appreciate them now. Today. And going forward.
I’ve read Our Town several times and I guess it’s time to read it again.
The movie version is fine, but the Hollywood ending robs the play of the punch Wilder intended. Original Broadway production with Frank Craven (left; he also starred in the movie) as the Stage Manager, Martha Scott (Ben Hur) as Emily, and John Craven (Frank Craven’s son) as George Gibbs.
In Alexander von Humboldt’ Narratives, Volume V, one reads a brief mention of what the locals called the juvia tree. Humboldt and Bonpland (see here), having canoed the Casiquiare (see here), and camping in the southern regions of what is now Venezuela’s Amazonas territory, were excited to have seen this tree of which they had heard so much. They were not disappointed.
The two explorers named the tree, Bertholletia Excelsa, “that majestic plant which furnishes the triangular nuts called in Europe the almonds of the Amazon.” And that is its name today. It is found in the Amazonian areas of Venezuela, Brazil, Bolivia, Colombia, even Perú, and is known by a multitude of names including Brazilian Nut Tree, Castaña del Brasil, Castaña del Maranon, and others. In Venezuela it is still known as the yubia tree, which is what Humboldt noted as juvia.
These majestic trees grow up to 50 meters (over 160 feet) and more, towering over the jungle canopy. Their coronas spread over 30 meters (close to 100 feet), and their trunks have been measured at 2 and even 3 meters (6 and 10 feet) across. Their fruit can weigh up to 4 or even 5 pounds each. These are not Planters Peanuts.
These trees are estimated to age up to a thousand years or more, each tree producing crops for centuries. Readers with an instinct or desire for exploration and adventure can raft down the Casiquiare and measure Humboldt’s tree today. It should still be there for you to enjoy.
Bertholletia Excelsa Brazilian Nut NOT the Brazilian nut
To read Alexander von Humboldt’s journals of his and Aimé Bonpland’s journey to the Americas, much of which took place in Venezuela (1799-1804), is not only a pleasure, but also a rewarding experience. In many instances, I find his narratives and observations to be as helpful and profitable today as readers found them to be two centuries ago.
His praiseworthy writing and infinite curiosity does not, however, obscure Mr. Humboldt’s manifest prejudice against Christianity or his exasperating blind spot towards the enormous contributions by missionaries who loved the Americas and who travelled and lived there centuries before Humboldt’s birth. Were it not for those who went before, Humboldt’s travels would not have been possible, certainly not anywhere close to the extent he was able to achieve.
For more on Humboldt, see here, here and here. As noted in that last link (“So Far From God and So Close to the United States”), Humboldt got his passport, enabling him to travel, not from “Enlightenment France” but from “priest-ridden Spain.”
The following comments are extracted from the sections of his journals concerning his explorations in the lower Orinoco regions.
“Some of the islands are inhabited by a cruel and savage race, called cannibals, who eat the flesh of men and boys, and captives and slaves of the male sex, abstaining from that of females.” Hist. Venet. 1551. The custom of sparing the lives of female prisoners confirms what I have previously said of the language of the women. Does the word cannibal, applied to the Caribs of the West India Islands, belong to the language of this archipelago (that of Haiti)? or must we seek for it in an idiom of Florida, which some traditions indicate as the first country of the Caribs?) It is they who have rendered the names of cannibals, Caribbees, and anthropophagi, synonymous; it was their cruelties that prompted the law promulgated in 1504, by which the Spaniards were permitted to make a slave of every individual of an American nation which could be proved to be of Caribbee origin.
Note Humboldt’s allusion to a possible Floridian origin to the Caribs. Although some anthropologists make strong arguments for a Brazilian origin, meaning the Caribs came up from what is now Brazil, the Floridian, or North American origin of the Caribs is not an unprecedented hypotheses. Their features would seem to corroborate that theory. This is not due only to their physical features but also their few surviving sculptures and even their language. These things intimate an ancestry very dissimilar from that of most of the other Indians of South and Central America and the Caribbean. The Caribs seem to be evidence of ancient communications between North and South America.
Interested readers might take a few minutes to open a map of the Caribbean Sea, put a finger on the southern tip of Florida, and then trace it down to Cuba, and then move it in a pronounced southeastern arc across Hispaniola, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and on and on, all the way down to Grenada and finally to Tobago and Trinidad, just off the coast of Venezuela. It doesn’t take too much imagination to see an ancient land bridge which once connected Florida and Venezuela. At the least, it isn’t difficult to hypothesize that the Caribs migrated through those islands down to South America.
Humboldt seeks to cast doubt on the extent of the cruelties of the Caribs, writing “I believe [such cannibalism] was much exaggerated….” Much exaggerated? So they ate human flesh, just not as much as reported? Instead of a pound of flesh a week, they limited themselves to, say, a pound fortnightly? That might be an academic question to a detached observer, but certainly not to the ill-fated victims of that cruel and ferocious people.
We’ll conclude this post with his citing an old missionary and then going on to relate his own experience with “the perversity” of certain Indian tribes, which experience corroborates the missionaries comments.
“You cannot imagine,” said the old missionary of Mandavaca, “the perversity of this Indian race (familia de Indios). You receive men of a new tribe into the village; they appear to be mild, good, and laborious; but suffer them to take part in an incursion (entrada) to bring in the natives, and you can scarcely prevent them from murdering all they meet, and hiding some portions of the dead bodies.” In reflecting on the manners of these Indians, we are almost horrified at that combination of sentiments which seem to exclude each other; that faculty of nations to become but partially humanized; that preponderance of customs, prejudices, and traditions, over the natural affections of the heart.
Note how Humboldt, in appealing to “natural affections”, knowingly or not, cites the first chapter of Romans, which warns that any people who reject God will degenerate and that among the characteristics of a people evidencing that degeneration are men “without understanding, covenantbreakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful….[Emphasis mine]”
We took one who had become sufficiently civilized in a few weeks to be useful to us in placing the instruments necessary for our observations at night. He was no less mild than intelligent, and we had some desire of taking him into our service. What was our horror when, talking to him by means of an interpreter, we learned, that the flesh of the marimonde monkeys, though blacker, appeared to him to have the taste of human flesh. He told us that his relations (that is, the people of his tribe) preferred the inside of the hands in man, as in bears. This assertion was accompanied with gestures of savage gratification.
We inquired of this young man, so calm and so affectionate in the little services which he rendered us, whether he still felt sometimes a desire to eat of a Cheruvichahena. He answered, without discomposure, that, living in the mission, he would only eat what he saw was eaten by the Padres. Reproaches addressed to the natives on the abominable practice which we here discuss, produce no effect; it is as if a Brahmin, travelling in Europe, were to reproach us with the habit of feeding on the flesh of animals.
In the eyes of the Indian of the Guaisia, the Cheruvichahena was a being entirely different from himself; and one whom he thought it was no more unjust to kill than the jaguars of the forest. It was merely from a sense of propriety that, whilst he remained in the mission, he would only eat the same food as the Fathers. The natives, if they return to their tribe (al monte), or find themselves pressed by hunger, soon resume their old habits of anthropophagy.
Humboldt goes on to seek to mitigate excessive revulsion to the described practice by noting that cannibalism was widespread in thirteenth century Egypt. Howbeit, his brief dissertation on the Egyptian practice does not eclipse the yuck factor elicited by his matter-of-fact discussion about his “sufficiently civilized” travel companion.
As readers of this blog know, I very much admire Alexander von Humboldt. My father introduced me to him and I’ve introduced him to my children. He makes for exhilarating reading. But, as you read him, be sure to “prove all things, hold fast that which is good.”
We’ll visit with him again.
Alexander von Humboldt (left) and Aimé Bonpland in the lower Orinoco. Carib Indian natives in Dominica (circa early 20th century) Satellite photo taken “looking east”. The Meta River flows east into the Orinoco, which at this point flows south to north, but in photo it’s “right-to-left”. This and further south (right) is the vast Upper Orinoco region. Map helps “visualize” the satellite photo (previous). Note the Meta River to the left (in Colombia). For about 150 miles before it flows into the Orinoco, it forms the boundary between Venezuela to the north and Colombia to the south. Note the Casiquiare Canal further south. Humboldt and Bonpland made it that far but were eventually turned back by Portuguese civil authorities.
