“I wish I had been there” is a familiar lament for many. It certainly applies to me with regards to the incident which follows.
In the camp’s early days, my father would travel to Ciudad Bolivar to pick up the month’s payroll. This was long before the bridges which now span the Caroní River and the multiple lane highways which came years later, during my lifetime, in fact.
Back in the 40s, the trip was very long and also required him to spend the night under the open sky, something he did not mind and did not consider dangerous, even though he carried the camp’s month’s pay, in cash. He was never threatened with theft.
On one of those trips my father was rewarded with a sight he often recalled: a black jaguar.
My father had a copy of Fauna Descriptiva de Venezuela, by Dr. Eduardo Röhl, published in 1949. As a child I would avidly thumb through that edition, pausing here and there to read more carefully when the subject especially struck my fancy.
I have my father’s copy with me and regarding the black jaguar it says that it “lives in the jungles of the Orinoco, [and] is a case of melanism”, meaning a genetic issue which causes the skin to hide the spots to greater or lesser degrees and highlight the black color. In Venezuela the terms jaguar or tigre are interchangeable, but all agree that the black version is rarely seen.
This comports with the Wikipedia article which affirms that black jaguars have been sighted throughout Central and South America, but rarely.
On one particular trip, late at night, my father was driving the stretch from Ciudad Bolívar to Puerto Ordaz, the confluence of the Caroní and Orinoco rivers, grateful for a full moon by which he might see the outline of a tree under which he could spend the night.
However, the moonlight rewarded him with a more dramatic sight that night. The landscape was clear even though it was late at night. The brush and sandy loam had the grayish, yellowish hue so common to a full moon. And then he sensed something to his immediate left, outside the driver’s door and open window.
It was black and it was running like a gazelle parallel to the car on the left side of the road. It seemed as if the perfectly formed, graceful creature were racing the car. My father could see the light of the moon reflected off the jaguar’s shiny black coat. The sight was mesmerizing. He kept looking, while quickly glancing to the road, as it ran and ran and ran. And then it swerved to its left and disappeared in the thickets and brush.
My father slowed the car and looked through his open window hoping to see the animal one more time. But, of course, he did not.
The jaguar is a nomadic creature with no fixed pathways for his nocturnal journeys. Its prey ranges from the clumsy Chigüire to tree-based monkeys of all kinds. During Humboldt’s years of discovery, the jaguar was the greatest enemy of the river turtles in Venezuela, which, by the time I left the country in the 70s, were often seen but nothing close to the abundance described by the great explorer.
To get the context of this post, the reader might want to see Humboldt on Cannibalism. Today’s post, in effect, concludes that one.
In his writings on the Americas, Alexander von Humboldt, whom I admire and respect for his great learning and energy (not to overlook the wonderful clarity of his writings), like all secular humanists before him and since, cannot resist the temptation to posit moral equivalencies between the “savage practices” he witnessed and the “like practices” of advanced civilizations in history. He does a sleight of hand here in that by “civilized” he usually means — and his readers usually assume — Christian lands, but his examples are not always of such lands.
As one reads him, one readily sees that all those moral equivalence assertions have the purpose of minimizing if not denigrating Christianity; in effect, arguing that the historic faith has no great positive impact on civilization, and indeed might be a negative force.
He tries but fails. I say this as an admirer of Humboldt.
In the prior post on Cannibalism, we saw that Humboldt goes on at some length to compare the practices of some of the Indian tribes in Venezuela to those of Egypt in the 13th century. But, of course, the former was a daily routine, whereas the latter was a rare occurrence. He also goes on to deny that cannibalism ever existed in Africa. He does this by questioning the observations of “some travelers” while citing a single source which denies the allegations. However, research then and since documents the history of the practice there (see for example, A History of Cannibalism: From ancient cultures to survival stories and modern psychopaths, N. Constantin; Cannibalism: The last taboo, B. Marinner; Ibn Battuta in Black Africa, and more).
Nevertheless, Humboldt did document evidence of cannibalism among those who accompanied him:
“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, traveling in Europe, were to reproach us with the habit of feeding on the flesh of animals.
But then the great explorer goes on to affirm moral equivalency, citing Abd al-latif al-Baghdadi’s account of cannibalism in Egypt in the 13th century:
“And why should we be so much astonished at this inconstancy in the tribes of the Orinoco, when we are reminded, by terrible and well-ascertained examples, of what has passed among civilized nations in times of great scarcity? In Egypt, in the thirteenth century, the habit [sic!] of eating human flesh pervaded all classes of society; extraordinary snares were spread for physicians in particular. They were called to attend persons who pretended to be sick, but who were only hungry; and it was not in order to be consulted, but devoured.
“‘It then no longer caused any surprise; the horror it had at first inspired vanished; and it was mentioned as an indifferent and ordinary thing. This mania of devouring one another became so common among the poor, that the greater part perished in this manner.
“‘These wretches employed all sorts of artifices, to seize men by surprise, or decoy them into their houses under false pretenses. This happened to three physicians among those who visited me; and a bookseller who sold me books, an old and very corpulent man, fell into their snares, and escaped with great difficulty. All the facts which we relate as eye-witnesses fell under our observation accidentally, for we generally avoided witnessing spectacles which inspired us with so much horror.’ (Account of Egypt by Abd-allatif, physician of Bagdad, translated into French by De Sacy pages 360 to 374.)”
However, the events which Abd al-latif al-Baghdadi (1162-1231) describes so vividly occurred during a terrible famine in Egypt; it was not a usual occurrence, but did have far-reaching and widespread impact across that land. His writings on Egypt did not at all imply this was a common (“habit”) practice there; he focused on that famine and its horrible deleterious effects on the entire country.
More notably, Humboldt cannot cite a single source documenting widespread cannibalism in Christian lands. On the contrary, he approvingly, and fairly, cites the efforts of missionaries to banish the practice. He even cites the horrified reactions of Christians when confronted with the practice. Indeed, it was that horror which eventually led Hernán Cortés to destroy the ancient city of Mexico as it was a center for human sacrifice and cannibalism which the Aztecs continued to revert to until the city was destroyed.
That leads us to the “why” human sacrifice and its usual attendant, cannibalism, have by and large disappeared as open practices around the world. A hint can be easily discerned in the Christian revulsion to such practices. And that revulsion can be traced to the Ultimate Sacrifice: that of the Son of God nailed to the cross for the sins of His people. No other human could satisfy such a claim. That explains why human sacrifice was considered such an abomination in the Old Testament Scriptures, which point to that Ultimate Sacrifice. No human can satisfy for his own sins, let alone the sins of others. Only the God-Man, Jesus Christ has that power and that authority.
That might explain Humboldt’s dissimulations, diversions, and distractions. As he himself notes, “civilized” people have not delivered us from cannibalism, but rather Jesus the Christ.
Image of Abd al-latif al-Baghdadi (1162-1231), who deserves to be as well known as Ibn Battuta (1304-1369). Battuta, who has hotels and malls named after him, travelled extensively for 30 years, always documenting his accounts, which are a rich historical source for his time period. Abd al-latif al-Baghdadi travelled 40 years, documenting voluminously. In addition, he was a physician, philosopher, scientist, Egyptologist, and more. Humboldt quoted his account of instances of cannibalism in Egypt, but was not candid as to the context vis-à-vis cannibalism along the Orinoco.Alexander von Humboldt on the Orinoco River “The more you contemplate the antiquities of Egypt, the more your wonder increases….”–Abd al-latif al-Baghdadi Carib Indians, early 20th century.
“We northern Europeans have a strange extravagant prejudice against the Spanish people. I have been living on intimate terms with all the classes of society from the Capuchins to the Viceroy. I have become as familiar with the Spanish tongue as I am with my own…. All these people possess, in my mind, the elements of grand character … warm, convivial, of likable candor, or great simplicity of manner….” — Alexander von Humboldt, late fall, 1799 writing from Caracas, Venezuela
The above impressions only deepened when, soon thereafter, Humboldt and Bonpland made their way to the Llanos of Venezuela. A flat, almost treeless plain covered with short grass, stretching from the Orinoco deltas to the Andes, the Llanos are considered by experienced explorers to be the “most remarkable plains of the world.” They appeared to be one vast desolation. But no, cattle could be seen miles away, dotting the landscape, and homesteads, or hatos, were there as well. Ranchers lived many miles apart from each other, yet, the hospitality of the people never failed. At every hato they were cared for, fed sumptuously, and always treated to that grand finale, a pitch black coffee, “so strong as to keep the travelers awake half the night.”
When Humboldt visited, Venezuela, known as the Captaincy General of Venezuela, consisted of seven “United Provinces,” covering an enormous mass of land covering over 420,000 square miles (over a tenth of the size of the continental US), wedged between Colombia and Brazil. Her population was one million, of which about 125,000 were Indians and 200,000, Black. Humboldt was amazed that all population elements of Venezuela — the Black, the Indian, the Mestizo, and the Criollo majority (Spanish descendants) could “be fused into a living, cultural symphony.”
Three centuries before Humboldt, Christopher Columbus, on his third voyage in 1498, had stopped in Trinidad, named by the famed navigator for the Holy Trinity. He entered the Gulf of Paria and planted the Spanish flag on the Paria Peninsula in Venezuela. Later on he landed on the Venezuelan island of Margarita.
When in the gulf, he investigated the “Grande River” (the Orinoco) and seeing and experiencing the great torrents of fresh water flowing into the gulf, he understood that he had discovered another continent — “otro mundo”, because he saw that the vastness of the Orinoco and the water it cast onto the sea was far more than what an island can produce. He was convinced he had reached the outer regions of Paradise.
Since Christopher Columbus is little studied today, few know what our grandparents knew: he interpreted his travels and discoveries by the light of Scripture. He sometimes interpreted wrongly — especially in his calculations of the size of the earth — but his desire to do God’s work cannot be questioned.
On his return from this, his third voyage, the voyage in which he planted the Spanish flag in Venezuela and considered her to be the foyer to Paradise, he wrote to the king and queen of Spain. He was in chains as he wrote, for the Spanish soldier, Francisco de Bobadilla, who had been sent to Hispaniola by the sovereigns, was incensed when he saw that Columbus had hanged 5 rebellious Spanish soldiers in an attempt to restore order in what was becoming an anarchic situation. Upon arrival in Spain, he was immediately released and his honors restored. Bobadilla was unable to restore order and was recalled in 1502 but he and his fleet disappeared in a hurricane.
Columbus’ letter is most remarkable considering his chains and also his deteriorating health, including insomnia and rheumatoid arthritis, which many believe brought his death a few years later, shortly after his fourth and final voyage. The letter is written by a man absolutely confident and assured of his navigational abilities. Indeed, several of the men who sailed with him later expressed their amazement at his uncanny ability to know when and where to sail and his utmost confidence when on the seas. In fact, his final voyage resulted in shipwreck near Jamaica, but that was because he allowed his men to turn north too soon, against his better judgement.
In the letter, Columbus expressed his belief he had “found the outer regions of Paradise because the polestar rotation had given him the impression that the fleet was climbing. The weather had become extremely mild, and the flow of fresh water into the Gulf of Paria was, as he saw, enormous. All this could have one explanation only — they had mounted toward the temperate heights of the Earthly Paradise, heights from which the rivers of Paradise ran into the sea. Columbus had found all such signs of the outer regions … in his reading, and indeed they were widely known…. [Brittanica].”
On the basis of that letter, the Queen agreed to a fourth voyage in which, incredibly, Columbus came within a hair’s breadth of the Pacific Ocean. But that was not to be. He died shortly after his return, still convinced he had reached Asia sailing west.
But he had opened the doors to the Spanish colonization of much of America and to “three centuries of culture and civilization and progress”, to quote Simón Bolívar. That expression was affirmed by Alexander von Humboldt as he explored and analyzed the vast regions of Venezuela and Colombia while all the time deploring Spanish rule, and this, despite the fact that “enlightenment” France had refused to grant him passport for his travels and yet “obscurantist” Spain had. It was Spain who wanted more exploration and scientific inquiry, not France.
But Humboldt, whom i admire greatly, could not see beyond his prejudices. The same is the case with many.
A mere two decades after Humboldt’s and Bonpland’s visit, Venezuela had lost a third of her population in what can only be described as one vast bloodletting whose repercussions are still felt to this day. Bolívar had his way: he lamented that he had destroyed three centuries of progress.
Third voyage. Boca del Serpiente (Columbus had called it “Boca de Dragón” but that name was later transferred further north). I sailed there with my father on a trip to Puerto de Hierro (Puerto de Hierro). Very rough seas as the mighty Orinoco pours in. One of the many sights Columbus viewed during his third voyage. Venezuelan Llanos The Venezuelan people still retain their vitality, friendliness, and hospitality. With God’s help, they will survive and thrive again.
The Indian worker is poor, but he is free. His condition is preferable to that of the peasant in great parts of northern Europe …. — Alexander von Humboldt, circa 1800
… y el pobre en su choza, libertad pidió [And the poor man in his hovel, for freedom implored.]. — Venezuelan National Anthem, 1810
Well, which is it?
This blog has often referred to Humboldt (see Monster Aguirre and The Invention of Nature for but two allusions; the search bar will direct you to more). Humboldt was no royalist; he did not even pause for an irony alert to ponder that “modern”, progressive France denied him permits to travel for scientific inquiry, whereas obscurantist Spain did.
Nevertheless, he recognized that the poor in pre-revolutionary Spanish America were free and many were prosperous. He wrote that a Mexican peasant under the Spaniards earned five (5) times more than a peasant in India under the English. He further discovered that Nueva España (Mexico) provided twice more to Spain’s treasury than India, with 5-times the population, did to England’s. During his visit to Spanish America, Venezuelans consumed 189 pounds of meat per capita, compared to 163 pounds by Parisians. Mexicans consumed 363 pounds of bread per capita compared to 377 by Parisians. Miners earned 25 to 30 francs per week compared to 4 to 5 francs by Saxons.
Esquivel Obregón, a Mexican, wrote that a wage earner in his country could buy 38 hectoliters (a hectoliter is 100 liters) of corn and 2,300 kilograms of flour in 1800, but only 24 and 525, respectively, in 1908, after “independence.” These are not isolated figures, but they do signal the catastrophic decline of Spanish America’s standard of living and reflect the desolation caused by the “chimera of liberty”.
But no need to rely on a Humboldt or an Obregón. What did Simón Bolívar himself write in 1829, a year before he died?
“From one end to the other, the New World is an abyss of abomination; there is no good faith in [Spanish] America; treaties are mere paper; constitutions, books; elections, combat; liberty, anarchy; life, a torment. We’ve never been so disgraced as we are now. Before, we enjoyed good things; illusion is fed by chimera … we are tormented by bitter realities.”
So one must wrestle with the fact that “the poor man in his hovel” most certainly was not imploring for freedom. He was free and prosperous.
Much, much more was going on at the time, but the overarching canopy was the French Revolution and its atheistic concepts which sought to disparage all that went before, including one’s own history. A 19th century Colombian diplomat wrote perceptively,
“In the codices [Spain was notorious for documenting everything. These codices are treasure troves for those willing and able to research largely unread tomes waiting to be rediscovered] known by me, the history of the Conquest and of the vice-royalty was recorded…. Three centuries of a patriarchal empire whose glories were echoed in palaces, pulpits, taverns, Indian colloquiums, and in royal audiences…. Then the violent winds blew and our ship ran aground on the Oedipus reefs where the desire to assassinate the fathers, to destroy the moorings of common ethics and religion which bound diverse cultures and civilizations to one tongue, one culture, and one loyalty to common principles, exalted the passions and drove men to madness.”
That diplomat went on to say, “…the degree of destruction and depopulation experienced in these lands compares with my vehement desire that someone, one day will love the Truth enough to divulge what I have observed and written.”
Readers of this blog know that I love Venezuela, the land of my birth. It is a land of heartbreaking beauty and one that has absorbed many rivers of blood since the early 19th century and is even now suffering greatly. The way back to sanity, prosperity, liberty, and peace begins with the Truth.
Readers should also see significant parallels to current events in the United States. George Washington, in his Farewell Address, addressed similar matters as were addressed by that Colombian diplomat, including the need for a common religion and common culture to bind together diverse peoples. The current, unbridled rush to deny anything good in our founding, and especially to denigrate our common religion, is very similar to the temper which became prevalent in Spanish American elite circles in the early 1800’s.
In both, Truth is the first casualty and all else follows, beginning with ordered liberty.
To restore and preserve our ordered liberty, we must recover and speak the Truth. Pilate tarried not for an answer when he asked, “What is truth?”, but turned away from Truth Personified, Who stood before him.
Unlike Pilate who inquired and did not await for a reply, we must do differently.
And the Truth will set us free.
17th century Spanish American art from Peru Colonial house in Venezuela Colonial street in La Guaira Colonial architecture, Caracas
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
