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A map in Fort Matachin of the location of Taíno settlements.I’d heard that the treasures in the Museo Arqueológicalin Baracoa had been moved from Yara-Majayara, and I wanted to see the site before touring the museum. James Archbold, Alber Hernandez and I set off early in the morning with Delmar behind the wheel of the old Ford jeep called “Blue.” The protected “national monument,” renowned for its caves, lies very near Baracoa, and it is here that we hope to see rock art and sculptures of the Taíno, the indigenous people living in the area when Christopher Columbus landed, November 1492.
We head east, climbing into the rainforest over deeply rutted roads, soggy and slippery and becoming narrower and more treacherous with each turn. A few kilometres from our destination, the blue jeep ascends, then slides backward, ascends and slides. After an hour’s drive, “Blue” can no longer climb over the slimy, red muck. We face a decision: turn back or walk on.
Cool morning begins to heat up. It seems as if steam rises off every green leaf. We walk, and sweat, and climb higher and higher. Tocororo, Cuba’s national bird, calls from the trees: toco-toco-tocoro-tocoro. On the road, we spot lizards and small snakes sunning.
Señior Rodriguez at his home, Yara-Majayara.
Photo by Kathryn MacDonald©
We walk for two hours before we come to the home of 78-year-old Señor Rodriguez at the edge of a small village, which overlooks Baracoa and El Yunque.
Señor Rodriguez shows us shells and coral collected from his mountainous farm, proof, he says, that once the water of the bay was much higher. He shares primitive tools and other artifacts, also from his farm. Then he leads us toward the small village where he points out the place the Spaniards burned Hatuey, a Taíno chief and Cuba’s first guerilla revolutionary. The burning occurred in 1512, only 20 years after Columbus had written glowing reports in his log about the people and their agrarian culture. During that short period, the Spaniards decimated the village of 2,500 through unspeakable cruelty. Although the peaceful Taíno did revolt under the leadership of Hatuey, they could not win and Hatuey was captured. Bound to the stake, the story goes that the priest asked Hatuey if he would become Christian so he would go to heaven. Hatuey reportedly asked if that is where Spaniards go when they die. He was told, yes. Hatuey said that he did not want to spend eternity with those so
Señor Rodriguez and James Archbold examine features at the caves of Yara-Majayara. Señor Rodriguez points to shapes he claims were sculpted by the Taíno.
Photo by Kathryn MacDonald©
cruel.
We cut off the road and enter the rainforest. We pull ourselves up holding vines and bracing against trees, and then we come upon the caves. My heart leaps as I take in the magical rocks and caverns. I think of the Taíno word tibaracones. It describes the place where sandbars separate rivers from the ocean. The word has become a metaphor for many Baracoan painters, encoding the space that separates dreams from reality (please see my blog posted June 26). It also seems to be a fitting metaphor for my foray between the culture of Baracoa and my green voyeurism toward some level of understanding of the place, history and culture of the este or Oriente.
A couple of days before this excursion into Mara-Majayara, we visited Fuerte Matachin where artifacts from the Taíno- and the colonial-period are displayed. There I saw a photograph. Now I see the actual totem carved on the rock wall of the mountain. Dream and reality merge. It may be cliché, but I pinch myself. All the carvings are worn smooth with weather and time, but for me they continue to hold the
Image taken at the caves, Yara-Majayara.
Photo by Kathryn MacDonald©
magic with which they were originally imbued. We peer into dark crevices and short caverns, stroke what I am sure are carvings, and take in the raw immediacy of history. Eventually, tired, thirsty, hungry and exhilarated, we descend, mingle our gratitude with hugs and leave Señor Rodriguez at his gate. Subdued, we walk back down the hill toward Delmar and “Blue.”
With my heart and mind still racing, Delmar pulls off the road and drops Alber, James, and myself at a long wharf and says he’ll meet us on the other side. The walk over water on the rickety path focuses my concentration. It leads to Playa Negra, a black, volcanic, sandy beach overlooking Baracoa and the flat-topped mountain, El Yunque, which Columbus noted in his log. One experience topples another with images and emotion, and the day is not yet complete.
We are just in time to visit Museo Arqueológical before closing. The museum is composed of a series of underground galleries housing some of the 500 petroglyphs found in nearby caves, a few bones and other artifacts, along with naturally formed stalactites and stalagmites. Delmar tells us that he was one of the technicians
Enhanced image in Fort Matachin of Taíno carving.who wired the cave system with electricity. It is too late in the afternoon for the guided tour, but Alber translates and interprets and I come away with a better understanding of Taíno culture. I’m aware how little I know and how much remains to be discovered. I hope that you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into another world to which I long to return.
Next time: I set out to explore the nature of Baracoa and environs.
Related blogs:
Baracoa Cuba: art and artists:
http://traveller-kate.blogspot.ca/2015/06/baracoa-cuba-art-and-artists.html Baracoa Cuba, a photo essay:
http://traveller-kate.blogspot.ca/2015/06/baracoa-cuba-photo-essay-of-city.html?spref=fb Discovering Baracoa:
http://traveller-kate.blogspot.ca/2014_10_01_archive.html Over the Mountains: Santiago to Baracoa:
http://traveller-kate.blogspot.ca/2014/12/over-mountains-santiago-to-baracoa.html
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