CHIEF’S POISON RACKET

Evening Star, Issue 23724, 4 November 1940, Page 8

CHIEF’S POISON RACKET

CHICAGO GANGSTER OUTWITTED BY SOUTH AMERICAN INDIAN Tootsie Cotillo was a Chicago gangster. For the benefit of his health—his home town having become a little too hot for him—he went down to South America. In Guiana he came across Mr William La Varre, the explorer and author of. ‘Southward Ho!'. The gangster offered Mr La Varre 2,000 dollars to take him up-river into the interior—“ As far as I can get from civilisation.” Not liking the look of him, Mr La Varre asked for 4,000, hoping to put him off. But Tootsie, he tells, accepted, and they started on their journey. When they reached the country of the Macusi "Indians, Tootsie was surprised to find that old Kaimang, the chief, ran a “ racket ” in the best Chicago tradition. Under his guidance, the Macusis made_ warali poison for arrows and traded it with neighbouring tribes for other products—and fomented trouble for the purpose of selling more warali “ Just now,” Mr La Varre told Tootsie. “ the Tarumas are at war with the piannogottos. Old Kaimang here a little squabble between the two tribes, so he could get the Tarumas to dig more gold from their creekhecls.'*' The Tarumas trade the gold for Macusi poison. The Macusis trade the gold for the things they want from civilisation.” CHIEF’S “ SALES TALK.” Kaimang, too, had a special line with sales talk. There was a rival ipoison, made by the Wapisanos, and to prove that it was useless, Kaimang would drink a whole gourclfnl of it in front of would-be purchasers. He knew something that the other Indians didn’t—that the poisons did not kill unless they got into the blood. Therefore, to demonstrate the efficacy of the Macusi poison he would put a little on a dog’s tongue—and the dog would die. Naturally, Tootsie asked: " Then how does the Macusi poison kill the dogp ” “Very simple.. When he feeds it to a dog, he puts it on the end of a knife, and he’s just a little careless with the knife. Just a little cut on the dog’s tongue is nil that’s necessary.’' Tootsie thought it would be a good idea to muscle-in on this racket. lie made a bargain with the Wapisanos and went from village to village with them selling their poison. Copying

Kaimang’s idea, he showed the worthlessness of the Macnsi mixture by drinking it. This went on for some time, but one day old Kaimang came to see Mr La Varre. The Indians, he said had finally decided that Macusi poison was the best—and the white man had helped them to decide: “ He helped you get back your customers for Macusi poison? ” I asked, sceptically. “ I don’t believe it. He’s working with the Wapisanos.” “ Oh, yes, he helped me very much,” the chief insisted. “He was the one who really proved onr poison was the best. The Wapisanos are very much put out about it.” The white man, he added, was dead—“he killed himself.” On being questioned further, he said that he had sent bis daughter to Tootsie with a present of pineapples, of which ho was very fond. Two were ripe, but the others were still green, and Tootsie had been too impatient to wait for them to ripen before eating them. “ I had nothing to do with his death,” said the chief: “ The white man didn’t know much about pineapples; that is all. When pineapples are green, they make the mouth raw. Yon know. A man with a sore mouth shouldn’t drink warali, should he? The white man ate some green pineapples, and when he drank Macusi poison our Macusi poison killed him.” . Tootsie was more familiar with Chicago “pineapples”—the type that is often loaded with dynamite; but the Macusi pineapple was equally dealy. . . Mr La Varre writes of other strange causes of death, too. Many years ago, he says, in the days of the Spanish couquistadores, the Quiches of Guatemala, men, women, and children—took a solemn oath, the Blood Oath of Chichicastenango; “ Never should Quiche blood be mixed with that of any other tribe. Never would a Quiche use any article not produced by a Quiche craftsman. Thus would Quiche life and independence within the dominion of the invading conqueror be assured.” This oath, says Mr La Varre, is still taken by Quiche children on reaching their twelfth birthday. THE BLOOD OATH. On one occasion, when Mr La Varre visited a Quiche village, ho took with him a good-looking halfbreed pack boy named Ramon. Unfortunately Ramon was foolish enough to take too much interest in the chief’s daughter. Trouble followed, and Mr La Varre and Ramon had to attend a meeting in the village council house. There the old chief began to speak, and as be spoke the girl's figure, as she sat among her women relatives, began to wilt:

“ For three or four minutes the old man talked. Then, after a few seconds’

pause for absolute quiet, he spoke five stentorian Quiche words of apparent command. The elders grunted their approval. The chief turned and walked out. Lalla slumped in a faint on the ground. Two ancient women picked her up from the ground and carried her seemingly lifeless body out of the house. In a moment more Ramon and I were entirely alone. Not a single Indian had looked at me; not a single hand was raised against Ramon.” Mr La Varre asked Ramon what the old man had said, and' was told something about the “ Death Speech.” They left the village and might never have heard any more about the alfair if Mr La Varre had not met a Guatemalan prospector. He happened to pass through the Quiche village, he said, when they were burying the chief’s daughter: “ Quite a sight, devil dancers, and all the natives in masks. Pagan as the devil! But what do you think? There was nothing the matter with the girl! She wasn’t sick! She hadn’t had an accident. Her people talked her to death. Yes, sir! That’s what my interpreter said. She had broken some Quiche law —the Blood Oath of Chichicastenango, he said it was—and she had to die!” And that was the only explanation Mr La Varre ever heard of the girl’s death.