The Camisea Nanti: Section 4

Section 4

Relevant Historical and Cultural Background

In this section we present a brief history of the Nanti who now live on the upper Rio Camisea, from the migrations of the 1950s to the present day. We also discuss aspects of Nanti culture which have had a profound impact on their dealings with the outside world. The purpose in doing so is to give the reader an understanding of those elements of Nanti history and culture that have played a role in shaping the complicated present-day state of affairs. We focus particularly on the reasons for the Nanti migration to the Camisea, those events and cultural predispositions that have molded their attitudes towards outsiders and the modern world, and finally, the reasons behind the recent fission of Montetoni into two communities and the effect of this incident on relations between the Nanti themselves, and between the Nanti and the outside world. We also put into a sequential context a number of matters that we discuss in isolation in other parts of this report.

The historical information presented here is based on numerous interviews with adult Nanti presently living in Montetoni or Malanksiá. Our primary informants were: Migsero [Spanish: Miguel], Victoro [Victor], Arora, Juan, Yonatan, Tomashi [Tomas], Hosikaro [Oscar], Eseksera, Alan [Adam], Andresh [Andres] and Teherina [Delfin]. We wish to point out that other Nanti may have different stories and histories as yet undiscovered by us; the following, therefore, represents our current understanding of Nanti history.

4.1  1950-1975: Settlement on the Timpia and the Migrations From the Timpia Headwaters

The Nanti who now live on the upper Rio Camisea previously lived in a number of small, widely scattered settlement clusters on the upper Timpia. There existed three major clusters of settlements: one near the mouth of the Marientari, one of the larger tributaries of the upper Rio Timpia; a second one, of perhaps 20 individuals, was situated about two days' walk further upriver, near the Igonani, another tributary of the Timpia; and the third, near the Chingateni, yet another tributary of the Timpia, about two days' walk downriver from Marientari.

The Marientari settlement cluster consisted of four large communal dwellings. Two were located at the same site, near the mouth of the Marientari, and were inhabited by roughly 60 individuals. The other two dwellings lay a kilometer or two up- and downriver of the mouth of the Marientari, and had roughly 20 inhabitants each, bringing the total population of the Marientari cluster to about 100 people. The Igonani settlement consisted of a single communal dwelling, and was inhabited by about 20 people. The Chingateni settlement was inhabited by roughly 30 people.

These three settlements were founded in the late 1950s or earlier by Nanti migrating from the headwaters regions of the Timpia. We have not been able to determine the reason for this migration, but we can at least rule out any connection with conflicts between these Nanti and any other peoples.

In the early 1960s, these settlements received refugees fleeing from attacks on Nanti communities in the vicinity of the Inkonene, a tributary of the Timpia near the headwaters of the river. Most of the refugees were children or adolescents, their parents having been killed in the attacks. Although the initial inhabitants of the previously discussed Nanti settlements were not close kin to the refugees, they apparently took them in willingly.

Information on these attacks is sketchy, but it seems that the attackers were also Nanti, who came from even further upriver. The cause of the attacks is unclear, and as the survivors of the attacks were children at the time, they are not particularly helpful in providing any explanation for the attacks. However, stories of dangerous people living further up the Timpia became part of the lore of the Nanti who eventually moved to the Camisea, and this fact played an important role in later developments.

It should be noted that the Machiguenga, who have been the principal means by which the outside world has learned what little it has about the Nanti, speak of conflicts among the Nanti over metal tools, a much valued resource. However, there is no evidence for any such conflicts. Indeed, the Nanti claim not to have even known of metal before the mid 1970s, so it is unlikely that a desire for metal could have motivated the attacks of the early 1960s. These Machiguenga stories probably have their origin, however, in the tales of the attacks on the upper Timpia during the early 1960s.

During the period we are discussing, the Nanti communities on the upper Timpia had only sporadic contact with one another, and for the most part lived independently. We have recorded a number of marriage exchanges between the settlements, and we were told that hunting or gathering parties would travel in the vicinity of other settlements, but it could not be said that the communities were closely tied to one another.

4.2  1975-1983: Contact with Outsiders on the Timpia, and the Introduction of Metal Tools

The lack of strong ties between these Nanti communities changed during the mid 1970s, when the residents of Chingateni were contacted by people from further downriver on the Rio Timpia. Once again, details are sketchy, but it appears that Dominican priests from the mission at the mouth of the Timpia set up a settlement on the middle Timpia, and efforts were made to settle it with Nanti. Forays were made by Machiguenga and white outsiders (probably Dominican priests) to Chingateni. Although many of the residents of Chingateni fled into the forest during these visits, some children were captured and taken down to the new settlement, against their will, to attend a school there.

This led Yonatan, the father of several captured children, to follow them to the mission settlement, where he stayed for one or two years. At the mission settlement, Yonatan saw metal tools for the first time and accumulated a small cache of them, including a large fishhook, a knife or two, and a machete. Yonatan eventually returned to Chingateni with his metal tools and all but one of his children. Yonatan's departure from the mission settlement apparently coincided with the dissolution of the settlement, and some of the Nanti residents of the settlement were taken downriver, including one of Yonatan's daughters. We do not know the reason for the abandonment of the settlement; Yonatan simply told us that the Machiguenga and Dominicans went downriver and did not return.

Yonatan's experience had a number of significant results. One was the belief among the Nanti that technologically sophisticated outsiders are dangerous because they are interested in taking away Nanti, especially Nanti children. Another was that upon Yonatan's return to Chingateni, he began to lend the metal tools he had acquired to the residents of the nearby upriver Nanti communities. The metal tools were in high demand, and Yonatan shared them willingly. Yonatan would travel upriver to Marientari, for example, and stay there for several days while the residents there used the machete and knives, upon which he would return to Chingateni with his tools.

Prior to the introduction of Yonatan's metal tools, the Nanti used crude unhafted stone "axes" for cutting small softwood trees and cane; and sharpened snail shells, bamboo, and peccary teeth for other cutting tasks. The ineffectiveness of the stone "axes" resulted in their chacras being small and frequently situated on river banks, where easily-cut cane is found, but where the soil is frequently of low quality. The advent of metal tools was a real revolution, as it not only allowed the clearing of much larger gardens in better locations with much greater ease, but vastly simplified other important tasks, such as the construction of dwellings and the manufacture of bows and arrows. Our informants tell us that the use of stone axes ceased abruptly, and all the Nanti communities began to clear their gardens with Yonatan's machete.

This introduction of metal tools among the Nanti had two profound effects. One was that the previously independent Nanti communities were now united by a common interest, the sharing and use of Yonatan's metal tools. Visits between the communities became common, and social bonds were created by the increased intercourse between the Nanti settlements. The second effect was that it created a dependence among the Nanti on a commodity available only by intercourse with the outside world. Once having been exposed to metal tools, the Nanti were unwilling to return to the use of stone axes. The metal tools would not last forever, however, and this was one of the key elements in the next major development in Nanti history.

4.31983-1991: Migration to the Camisea and Contact with the
Machiguenga

The late 1970s was a period of increased communication between the Nanti settlements, and also a time of incipient solidarity among the previously independent settlements. This state of affairs on the Timpia remained stable until the early 1980s. At this point two factors emerged that led the Nanti communities of the upper Timpia to begin their migration to the Camisea. One was the desire for more metal tools. The heavy use Yonatan's tools experienced was wearing them out, and it was obvious that more metal had to be obtained. The other was a migration of other Nanti from further upriver. Aripons [Spanish: Alfonso], a Nanti who lived far upriver, reported that people were pushing downriver. Since many of the residents of Igonani and Marientari had experienced attacks from upriver Nanti groups, as we discuss Section 4.1, it appears that they thought it best to elude the people who were on their way. Aripons also revealed that the upriver Nanti were interested in metal tools, which too was alarming. Why the Nanti chose to migrate to the Camisea rather than further down the Timpia is unclear, but it is plausible that the abductions experienced previously on the Timpia by the Chingateni group, discussed in Section 4.2, played a role in the decision.

In the move to the Camisea the Nanti settlements began to coalesce. The Chingateni group moved to the Shinkebe, a tributary of the upper Camisea, and the Marientari and Igonani groups moved to the Mayobeni, another nearby tributary. The Nanti did not remain in the extreme headwaters of the Camisea for long, however, and by 1986 a new settlement had been formed near the Piriasanti, another tributary of the Camisea further downriver. This settlement incorporated previous residents of the Shinkebe settlement and the Majobeni settlement, and metal from the Shinkebe settlement was used to clear land at this new site. Indeed, it appears that the desire to share the dwindling metal resources more effectively was a major motive for the formation of the Piriasanti settlement. It should be noted that these migrations did not occur all at once, but that sub-units of the larger family groups moved, for example, between Marientari and Majobeni over the course of roughly two years. Similarly, the Majobeni settlement was not abandoned immediately upon the creation of the Piriasanti, but that people slowly moved from the one to the other, even as others were moving from Marientari to Majobeni.

The Nanti, already fearful of the peoples migrating from the headwaters of the Timpia, and similarly apprehensive about the people to be found further down the Timpia, now found reason to be fearful of interlopers in the Camisea reason. A band of men, carrying bows and arrows, arrived at Piriasanti, having come from the headwaters of that tributary. Two Nanti men, Gustavo and Erenesto, seeing them from a distance, fired arrows at them, causing the band to flee back upriver. We have not succeeded in identifying who these armed visitors at Piriasanti were -- the Nanti simply referred to them as "Kogapakori." The significance of this encounter, however, is that the Nanti once again felt themselves to be in danger from potentially hostile outsiders. It is this fact, and the simultaneous exhaustion of the metal tools available to the Nanti that form the backdrop of the next significant event in Nanti history, the first friendly contact with the downriver Machiguenga.

Not long after the encounter at Piriasanti, Juan, one of the Nanti living there, made a long trip with some companions downriver to collect chakopi, the flower stalks of wild cane, used to make arrows. Near the mouth of the Malanksiá, a minor tributary of the Camisea, he spotted a pair of Machiguenga men who had come up from Segakiato to collect palm fronds for thatch. Although Juan was very much afraid, he saw that the men carried machetes and stayed to observe them further. Somehow the men spotted Juan and called out to him in Machiguenga. Although Juan was poised to flee, a conversation ensued, and the two Machiguenga men promised to give Juan a machete if he helped them gather thatch. Excited by this offer, Juan called to his companions, and for several days they cut and carried thatch. At the end of their labors they were given two machetes, with which they returned to Piriasanti. The two Machiguenga men returned to Segakiato with their thatch.

In one stroke, the Nanti had ascertained that the downriver people were not hostile and had acquired metal tools from them. Given the imminent exhaustion of their metal resources and the threat they perceived from further upriver, this encounter must have been a great relief to the Nanti. It is not surprising then that a new community was formed in about 1988, even further downriver, at the mouth of the Piegiá, not far from the present-day location of Montetoni.

In 1989, Martin Vargas, a bilingual Machiguenga schoolteacher, ventured up to Piegiá to make friendly contact with the "Kogapakori", as the Machiguenga referred to the Nanti at the time. Bringing a few machetes, axes, and metal pots, his visit was well-received after a little initial trepidation on the part of the Nanti. Intermittent visits by Martin Vargas and others brought a steady trickle of metal tools into Piegiá over the next several years, and the Nanti became more and more accustomed to dealing with their downriver neighbors.

In something less than five years, then, the Nanti had gone from having very few metal tools and believing themselves to be surrounded by hostile groups, to having a relative abundance of metal tools due to the initiation of friendly relations with the Machiguenga. The lesson was clear -- metal tools, and even allies, were to be gained by closer relations with the Machiguenga.

It is in this setting that Silverio Araña arrived in Piegiá in 1991.

4.4  1991-1996: The Arrival of Silverio Araña Among the Camisea Nanti and the Founding of Montetoni

Silverio arrived in the Nanti community of Piegiá in the Spring of 1991, accompanied by Victorino, another bilingual Machiguenga schoolteacher from Segakiato. Piegiá's population of roughly 60 individuals lived in two large communal dwellings. The remainder of the Nanti who now live in Montetoni and Malanksiá were scattered between the Piriasanti, Mayobeni, and Shinchebe settlements. The two Machiguenga men explained to the Nanti that Silverio had come to Piegiá in order to form a school, live there, and teach their children. The Nanti assented, and so began Silverio's involvement with the Nanti.

Although Silverio explained that he was to be their schoolteacher, it is unlikely that the Nanti agreed to his presence for this reason. The Nanti could have had little idea what a school was, or what purpose one would serve. Given the Nantis' interest in metal tools, and the obvious attractiveness of maintaining friendly relations with their new downriver neighbors, it is most sensible to interpret their acceptance of Silverio in terms of their interest in creating a stable link with the outside world, which brought, as they probably hoped, a stream of metal goods and a friendly relationship with the downriver Machiguenga.

The arrival of Silverio in Piegiá marks the beginning of a period of rapid change for the Nanti. Silverio found many aspects of Nanti life and culture unacceptable, and sought to change them. He also wished to introduce practices and material items into the lives of the Nanti which he believed would benefit them. In his attempts to alter Nanti life, many of which were successful, Silverio was guided by his own interpretation of "progress" and of being "modern". From the beginning, Silverio's actions show that he intended to do a good deal more than simply teach school. In his own words, and those of other Machiguenga, he saw his goal as being to conquistar the Nanti -- that is, to subdue and civilize them. Please also see koriki. As a number of women in Montetoni told us, 'Ikanti, 'maika pitsotenkaigiro pikorikita'," ("He said, 'now you are finished with wearing nose-discs'"). Although he achieved partial success in this matter, we see below that the nose-disc has become a focal point of the Nanti's recent assertion of cultural autonomy. He also opposed the previously common use of saaro, the hallucinogen obtained from the seeds of the datura arborea flower. His success in this area appears to have been due to his simultaneous introduction of owiroki, the traditional Machiguenga yuca "beer".

Apart from owiroki, the Nanti also mention that Silverio introduced a number of cultigens they now farm, including corn, papayas, guavas and cotton. Kogi, or barbasco, used to stun or kill fish, was also introduced by Silverio, and is now in widespread use among the Nanti.

In January of 1995 another Machiguenga man came to settle in Montetoni, José Juan Arisha. José had been a friend of Silverio's in Chokoriari, and was apparently experiencing some problems there, so Silverio invited him to resettle in Montetoni. José left Chokoriari, abandoning his wife there, and joined Silverio in Montetoni.

Silverio's invitation to José appears to have been motivated by two related goals. The first was to increase the Machiguenga presence among the Nanti, and gain a sympathetic ear and ally for his plans to civilize the Nanti. The second was to bring someone to Montetoni who would be willing to become a promotor de salud, which Silverio sought in order to confer greater legitimacy on Montetoni as a community. In many respects José was a very poor choice for these goals. Although José began attending capacitaciones, or training workshops, in May of 1995 at the Dominican mission hospital in Kirigueti, for his position as promotor de salud, his attendance was extremely inconsistent, which failed to instill confidence in the health workers there that there was any competent medical care being provided in Montetoni. The Nanti too, though almost entirely ignorant of the details of modern medicine, complained to us that he spent a great deal of time away, fishing or working at his chacras in which he grew cash crops, and was rarely in the village to dispense medical aid. On those occasions when he was there, they said, he generally did nothing to help them. By the time we arrived in 1997, the Nanti had completely ceased going to him with health problems. Ultimately, José had not the slightest interest in providing health care to the Nanti. His position as promotor de salud was simply a pretext for his presence among the Nanti, which allowed him access to good land, plentiful and free labor, and in the end, a new teen-aged Nanti wife. José also disappointed Silverio in failing to be the ally in "civilizing" the Nanti that Silverio sought. José was not interested in any great plan to transform the Nanti and Montetoni into a "civilized", "modern" community that Silverio could boast of -- he simply wanted to lead a comfortable life, far from Chokoriari.

While not a great aid to Silverio, José did not differ substantially from him in his treatment of the Nanti. He mocked the Nanti for their traditional ornaments, took advantage of their generosity when he first arrived in Montetoni without a chacra or any one to feed him, and then used their labor to clear, plant, and harvest his chacras without any recompense to them. A year after his arrival in Montetoni he took a young Nanti woman as his wife, though he is roughly 50 years old, and will be unable to support her for many more years.

As time wore on, Silverio became increasingly confident of his power over the Nanti and began to treat them more as his "subjects", or as a resource to be exploited, than as a people in whose village he was a guest. By the time of our visit in 1995, Silverio had taken two Nanti wives in addition to his Machiguenga wife, Elva, whom he had brought from Chokoriari. He also demanded that "community" labor be performed under his direction: building the school, clearing the land for the soccer field, and keeping the village clean according to his own dictates. After a few years, this uncompensated labor began to include labor that could not be construed in any way as work for the benefit of the community -- work in Silverio's chacra, the sale by Silverio in Quillabamba of monkeys and parrots caught by the Nanti, and finally, work as woodcutters in Silverio's illegal attempts to harvest timber on Nanti land.

Though these actions, to which the Nanti submitted, satisfied in the short-term Silverio's sense of power over the Nanti and his avarice, they laid the seeds for conflict between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti in the long-term. The foundation of Malanksiá marked the beginning of this conflict, and the beginning of a new era for the Nanti.

4.5  1996 - Present: The Settlement of Malanksiá and the Development of the Present Political Situation on the Camisea

The founding of Malanksiá and Silverio's departure from Montetoni mark a new era in the lives of the Nanti, especially those of Montetoni. For the first time since Silverio arrived among them in 1991, the majority of the Camisea Nanti have had the freedom to behave as they see fit and to make their own choices, mostly free from outside coercive pressure. At the same time, the relationship between the Montetoni Nanti and Silverio has deteriorated, and Silverio has become very hostile towards the Montetoni Nanti. The details of this complicated situation, and how this situation arose is the subject material of this section.

We know Silverio had been interested in moving the Nanti downriver as early as July of 1995, when he spoke to us about it during our visit at that time. He indicated that such a move was necessary were the Nanti to engage in commerce with the outside world, something he wished to initiate as swiftly as possible. Discussions we had with Silverio in 1997 revealed that he planned to use Nanti labor to produce large quantities of achiote and fariña, which he intended to sell to comerciantes, or traders. In order that the traders be able to reach the community to purchase these products, it was necessary to move the community further downriver.

The event that triggered the move did not transpire until September 1996, however -- a severe windstorm destroyed several structures in Montetoni, including Silverio's own house and the school building, and damaged many others. Rather than rebuild the school and his own house in Montetoni, Silverio proposed that they take this opportunity to begin the building of the new downriver community. The site had been previously chosen by Silverio, near the mouth of the Malanksiá, a small tributary some ten kilometers downriver, and five kilometers straight-line distance from Montetoni.

At this point the stories told by Silverio and those told by Migsero and the other Montetoni Nanti diverge. According to Silverio, a village meeting was held to discuss the move to the new village site, and a consensus was reached that everyone would move down to Malanksiá. The plan was that Silverio and some others would move down first to clear the necessary land and to set up the school, and then over the next few months, everyone else would move down, affecting a permanent move. The key part of Silverio's story in view of later developments is that he believed that everyone had agreed to move down to Malanksiá after he set up the basis for the future community.

According to the Montetoni Nanti, however, what happened was very different. The storm hit the village and Silverio announced that instead of rebuilding Montetoni, they would begin work on the new downriver community. Migsero maintains that although there was a discussion of moving downriver, no commitment to do so was made by all of the Nanti. As Migsero told us, "We said we might move down."

It is actually not at all surprising that Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti remember the same set of events differently, as they have very different approaches to group decision-making and handling disagreements between individuals. As we discuss in Section 4.6, Nanti customs of discourse and public interaction emphasize harmony and agreement, over confrontation and disagreement. If an outsider, such as Silverio, makes a demand on an individual Nanti, or a group of Nanti, it is very unlikely that the Nanti in question will directly oppose the outsider, either in words or in actions. Silence and evasiveness are the typical Nanti responses to uncomfortable situations in which they are faced with demands that run contrary to their own wishes.

Despite disagreement over whether or not a consensus was reached about the moving of the entire community, there is little disagreement over what happened next. Silverio and some 20 men went downriver and began the arduous work of clearing the land, roughly 15 hectares in total. The major work of clearing the land at Malanksiá was completed by November, at which time Silverio, the other Machiguenga, and some of the Nanti moved downriver to the new village site. Silverio expected the other Nanti to follow shortly, in a few weeks or months. Several months passed, however, and the Montetoni Nanti gave no indication that they were planning to move down to Malanksiá. Silverio called them down repeatedly, and when the Montetoni Nanti visited Malanksiá, he demanded to know when they were moving down. During these encounters the Montetoni Nanti remained evasive, neither directly stating that they wished to stay in Montetoni, nor setting a time for their move to Malanksiá.

After many months of this, Silverio began to realize that the Montetoni Nanti had no intention at all of relocating to Malanksiá, so he decided that it would be necessary to force them to make the move. Now that he no longer lived in Montetoni, and could not coerce the Nanti by force of will and personality, the only leverage he had remaining was the control he had over the influx of much desired manufactured items -- machetes, pots, clothing, and the like. Silverio informed the Montetoni Nanti, probably in May of 1997 shortly before our own arrival, that they would receive no more such items until they resettled in Malanksiá. Furthermore, Silverio intended to isolate the Montetoni Nanti even further, by not allowing visitors to reach Montetoni, including the Ministry of Health workers who had begun vaccinating the Nanti by this time. In short, Silverio's plan was to blockade Montetoni, cutting them off from the very things that had motivated the Nanti to make contact with the outside world in the first place: metal tools, and other manufactured items.

Even when he told the Montetoni Nanti of his determination to deprive them of manufactured items unless they complied with his demands, they did not relocate to Malanksiá. In fact, several Nanti men from Montetoni told us that Silverio's heavy-handed tactics only served to convince them that he was hostile towards them. Other actions by Silverio at the same time widened the gap between himself and the Montetoni Nanti. By that time, it was clear to both the Montetoni Nanti and those in Malanksiá that the roughly 15 hectares of land which had been cleared by the communal efforts of the Nanti men was mostly to become Silverio's personal chacra; roughly three hectares would go to José, the Machiguenga promotor de salud, leaving only a small strip remaining by the river for the cramped village site. The Montetoni Nanti complained to us, "Maganiro notogaigakse, tera paniro iritogse,"; that is, "We all felled trees, he didn't fell trees alone". The Montetoni Nanti do not approve of Silverio's appropriation of the land cleared by community effort, and the repeated emphasis that "everyone" cleared the land but that now Silverio alone owns it underlines their sentiments.

In addition to these immediate sources of dissatisfaction with Silverio, the Nanti were resentful about other things Silverio had done. The two points to which the Nanti were most sensitive were the fact that Silverio had taken two Nanti women as wives, and that he had made many of the Nanti work for him without recompense.

In 1992 Silverio brought his wife from Chokoriari, where he lived before coming to the Rio Camisea, to join him in Montetoni. Since then, however, he has taken two other Nanti women as wives, much to the resentment of at least the Montetoni Nanti. Their disapproval is made clear by the fact that they never tire of saying that they want no other men from downriver coming to Montetoni and taking Nanti women. Indeed, Lev was told many times that had he come to Montetoni alone, without a woman, he would have been told to leave. In Silverio's case, the resentment he has aroused may well have been exacerbated by his pretense to outsiders that he only has one wife, his Machiguenga one. Silverio has evidently instructed the Nanti, in Malanksiá at least, to lie about the subject, and some have cooperated. The Montetoni Nanti, though initially reticent about discussing this matter, later volunteered it as an example of Silverio's misbehavior when he became especially hostile towards the Montetoni Nanti in general, and the presidente of the community, Migsero, in particular.

We heard many stories in Montetoni of Silverio either coercing labor from the Nanti, or promising a reward for their work which they never received. Perhaps the most egregious example involved Silverio's use of a number of young Nanti men to cut and transport timber, which he subsequently tried to sell downriver. Logging in this region is labor-intensive work; trees must be felled, cut into manageable segments, rolled and dragged into the river, and then made into large rafts that must be guided downriver to the point of sale. Silverio promised these young men some clothes in exchange for this back-breaking work, to which they agreed. The young men performed this work over the course of several weeks, and Silverio eventually got the timber downriver. Before he was able to sell it, the timber was confiscated, since it is illegal to harvest timber without the appropriate permit, which he was unable to obtain, since the Reserve in which the Nanti live does not allow commercial logging activity. The young men never even saw the t-shirts and shorts they had been promised. Silverio simply never brought the matter up, and the Nanti, loathe to confront anyone about an unpleasant matter, never did either.

Silverio routinely uses unrewarded Nanti labor in the clearing, planting and harvesting of his chacras, the building of his houses, the making of his boats, and the processing of his cash crops for sale to traders. He also has sold in Quillabamba parrots and monkeys captured by Nanti hunters. The Nanti men told us he promised to give them goods equivalent in value to the money he made from the sales, but they never saw the promised goods.

At the same time, the Montetoni Nanti had important positive reasons for staying in Montetoni. The chacras that the Nanti have made near Montetoni are numerous, large and bountiful. The location of the village allows them ready access to the Camisea, upper Manu, and Sagontuari rivers for fishing purposes. Game is plentiful in the Manu and Camisea headwaters regions. They already have homes built; and kapyeshi [Machiguenga: kapashi], used to thatch their huts, is already in short supply in the vicinity of Malanksiá. Indeed, these are the reasons that are normally given by the Montetoni Nanti for their disinterest in moving to Malanksiá. The Montetoni Nanti point out that food is scarce in Malanksiá. Game is scarce in the vicinity of the community, and the newly cleared chacras near Malanksiá have yet to produce much food. Furthermore, all the land nearest to the community has been taken by Silverio and José, meaning that the newcomers would have to make their chacras far from their proposed homes.

The Montetoni Nanti were thus in a very difficult position: they had many strong reasons to stay in Montetoni, yet access to manufactured items was to be cut off as long as they remained there. The Nanti, then, especially the Montetoni Nanti, were in a very delicate situation in June of 1997, when we arrived. Although it is hard to know how the situation would have resolved itself without our presence, our arrival radically altered the stakes of the conflict between the Montetoni Nanti and Silverio, and at the same time changed the balance of power.

While in the US, planning our project in Montetoni, we had no idea that the community had split, or that tensions between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti had become so high. We were aware, however, that dealing with Silverio would be complicated and perhaps problematic, given the nature of our experiences with him in 1993 and 1995. We understood that Silverio's personal interests were much more important to him than the needs or welfare of the Nanti, and we anticipated that our presence might threaten his sense of control. Yet we were determined to bring the Nanti goods that they clearly needed and wanted. So, implementing our philosophy of respecting the autonomy of indigenous communities, we resolved to attempt to balance our interest in the welfare of the Nanti with avoiding conflict with Silverio, and to behave with as much neutrality as possible.

Had we arrived to find a single community as we expected, we might have been able to avoid overt conflict with Silverio. However, as the situation stood between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti, both he and they recognized us as potentially powerful allies in their political struggle; therefore, Silverio wanted us and our goods in Malanksiá, while the Montetoni Nanti wanted us in their village. This situation provided us no neutral ground, since we could only reside and work in one village at a time.

When we first arrived in Malanksiá, we were made very welcome by Silverio. He explained that 70% of the Nanti had already moved to Malanksiá, and that the others were expected to move down shortly. In fact, only about 35% of the Nanti had moved to Malanksiá, and the other Nanti had no intention whatsoever of relocating to Malanksiá. Nevertheless, he lied to us deliberately, as he has to most visitors, in order to obscure the fact that he is presently experiencing serious problems with the Nanti. His deception also had a second goal: to dissuade us from traveling to Montetoni¹.

At first, we were quite unaware of both Silverio's deception in regards to the comparative size of Montetoni and Malanksiá, and of his plan to blockade Montetoni. Silverio expected us to stay in Malanksiá, and at first, we had no objection to doing so. Silverio was pleased at our arrival; he saw us and our goods both as a means to apply more pressure on Montetoni by blocking access to the aid we brought, and also as a means to augment his power, by serving as a conduit for the aid, and rewarding his allies. For example, when we announced that we had brought 25 machetes to donate to the community, Silverio told us it would be best if we gave them to him to distribute, as he knew who did and did not already have machetes and therefore was in the best position to distribute them. Unwitting of Silverio's designs, we agreed to do so.

The first signs that there was more going on than met the eye made themselves visible roughly a week after our arrival. Dr. Cabrera and the nurses of the medical post at Boca Camisea showed up early one morning with a group of some ten Nanti men from Montetoni. The health workers had arrived in Montetoni the day prior, by courtesy of a Shell helicopter, to carry out vaccinations in Montetoni and Malanksiá, and had walked downriver to Malanksiá early that morning. A few hours after their arrival in Malanksiá, the helicopter came to recover the medical personnel. The men from Montetoni; stayed for several hours more, however, spending most of that time with us.

We were immediately struck by the number of adult men who had come to visit. In this party alone there were more adult men than lived in Malanksiá. Yet, according to Silverio, most of the Nanti had already relocated to Malanksiá. Then, when we asked if they were planning to come to Malanksiá to live, they bluntly answered that they were not. After the health workers left, Migsero, the presidente of Montetoni, talked with us for a long time. Our skills in speaking Nanti were still very rudimentary at this point, but we were able to understand that he was asking us why we were giving machetes to Silverio, but not to the villagers of Montetoni. We explained that it was our intention to help both Nanti communities, and that we had given the machetes to Silverio simply because he said he would take care of distributing them. Eager to demonstrate our non-partisan intentions, we proposed that we go over to Silverio immediately so that the Montetoni Nanti could get their fair share of machetes.

However, when we arrived at Silverio's house in the company of Migsero, Silverio told us that all the machetes had already been distributed in Malanksiá, and there were none left for the Montetoni Nanti. We were simultaneously quite upset by the apparent fact that Silverio had distributed all the machetes in Malanksiá alone, and puzzled, because we had not seen many of the new machetes in the community. We told Migsero that we would be ensure in the future, that the Montetoni Nanti would receive their fair share of the aid that we brought for all the Nanti. Soon after this interaction, the men from Montetoni returned upriver.

Over the next few days, a number of things transpired which revealed, little by little, that Silverio was not being honest with us. Early on the day after Migsero's visit, we suddenly saw the new machetes in the hands of many of the Malanksiá Nanti, especially those of children. It was soon apparent to us what had happened: Silverio had been keeping the machetes, and had not yet distributed them when we showed up with Migsero to get the appropriate share for the Montetoni Nanti. However, in the course of the discussion between ourselves, Silverio and Migsero, Silverio had publicly claimed to have already distributed them all. He therefore had to actually do so as soon as possible, to ensure that he was not caught in a blatant lie, so early the next morning, he distributed all the machetes -- three to his own children, and many to other youngsters in the community who had no great need for a machete. Although in Montetoni there are fewer machetes than there are families that need them, machetes are fairly plentiful in Malanksiá, so Silverio ended up handing out the machetes to children. It was clear that Silverio wished to make sure that the machetes did not reach Montetoni, even if it meant lying to us and Migsero, and giving the machetes to children who did not need them.

A week later we encountered the first evidence that the Montetoni Nanti were not entirely happy with Silverio. In mid-July the Dia del Maestro is celebrated in Perú, a holiday that recognizes the value and contributions of teachers. Silverio planned a large celebration of this holiday to honor himself. He, his son Rudi, and a few Nanti lads went on a several day hunting trip to secure game for the festivities, and the Montetoni Nanti were informed that a large communal meal would be held on the appointed day. The day came and went without the arrival of the Montetoni Nanti, which only added to the atmosphere of failure -- the hunting party had come back empty-handed. Silverio was visibly angry, but decided to postpone the celebrations for a day, and sent a dozen school children to Montetoni to bring their parents to Malanksiá the following morning, so that the celebrations could be held with the attendance of the Montetoni Nanti. Around noon the next day the children returned to Malanksiá without their parents, and Silverio was furious. He yelled at the children, wanting to know why they hadn't brought their parents with them. The children simply responded that their parents were busy, and didn't want to come down to Malanksiá. Silverio decided at that point to go ahead with the celebrations without the Montetoni Nanti, and throughout the rest of the day and night, sat drinking in his house with the men and boys who are his closest allies in the village.

The week following the embarrassing Dia del Maestro, Silverio's mood became dark and brooding. We imagined that he was upset by the snub he had received from the Montetoni Nanti, but his anger seemed disproportionate to the offense. We did not know what the source of his unhappiness was until he confided in us a few days later. He explained that the doctors, when they had arrived in Montetoni with the helicopter, had brought a number of metal pots and machetes with them for the villagers of Montetoni, and he was most displeased about this. He told us that these gifts would cause the Montetoni Nanti to leave their community, and flee back to the Timpia -- now that they had these pots and machetes, there was no longer any need for them to stay in Montetoni. He said he would write an angry letter to Shell, who he believed was responsible for the gifts, demanding that they send no more aid to Montetoni, but send it only to Malanksiá, which was the "real" community. He also was angry with the doctor and nurses for going to Montetoni to vaccinate the villagers there. He told us that the health workers should only come to Malanksiá, and that the residents of Montetoni should come downriver if they wanted vaccinations. Silverio was even more upset two months later, when the nurses from Camisea came again to Montetoni and Malanksiá for vaccinations; Silverio told us that he was going to complain to the legal authorities in Quillabamba, and have the nurses arrested, on the grounds that giving the Nanti medical care in Montetoni was destroying his (Silverio's) community. As far as we know he never carried out this threat.

What was quickly becoming apparent to us was that Silverio very much wanted the Montetoni Nanti to relocate to Malanksiá, but that the Montetoni Nanti had no intention of doing so. It was also clear that Silverio saw his control over access to metal goods and medical care as the the lever he had to force the Montetoni Nanti to make the move. We understood why Silverio had been so upset: he regarded the absence of the Montetoni Nanti at the Dia del Maestro celebration as evidence that his power of the villagers of Montetoni was slipping.

It was obvious that Silverio very much wished to keep metal goods and medical attention out of the hands of the Montetoni Nanti, but his claim that once they were given metal pots and machetes, they would flee back to the Timpia, seemed odd to us. After talking to Silverio, we talked to Juan, Migsero's brother, and a very influential Nanti man in his own right. We repeated what Silverio had told us about the Montetoni Nanti returning to the Timpia, and he was shocked. So shocked, that he walked up to Montetoni the very next day to talk to Migsero about the matter. The following day we and Juan talked again; he told us that Migsero strenuously denied having any intention to return to the Timpia. Juan was evidently troubled by Silverio's accusations, which at the very least displayed a lack of trust, if not outright dishonesty.

A few days later Migsero and several other Nanti men and women appeared unexpectedly in Malanksiá. It seemed that Migsero had come to speak to us, as he spent almost the entire visit with us. Very quickly the conversation turned to Silverio's accusation that the villagers of Montetoni were planning to flee back to the Timpia. Migsero was visibly upset by the accusation. He emphatically denied it, telling us that they had come from the Timpia a long time ago, and did not wish to return there. Montetoni was now their land, and they wished to live there. We also discussed the prospect of us coming to Montetoni. Migsero told us that the villagers of Malanksiá had spoken highly of our medical work, and he invited us to move up to Montetoni with our medicine.

The thought of moving our operations to Montetoni was attractive to us. We believed Montetoni to be the larger of the two communities, and it made sense for us to be based there, rather than in Malanksiá. We also had very fond memories of our 1995 visit there -- of both the people and the physical setting.

We had an additional motive to consider moving our operations to Montetoni: the ill will of José Arisha. Generally speaking, José Arisha is an affable man, and was never overtly unpleasant to us directly. His family group, however -- his wife, her brother and sister; and Erewakin [Eduardo], a teen-aged Nanti boy who is closely allied with the Machiguenga in Malanksiá -- became increasingly hostile towards us as time went on. We believe the source of their hostility was the evidence we provided to the Malanksiá Nanti that José was utterly incompetent as a health care provider. Although we never criticized José publicly, and at first tried to incorporate him centrally into our health activities, the Malanksiá Nanti began to imply to us that José's performance as promotor de salud had been less than exemplary. Simply put, the facts that we did medical rounds three times a day to check on the ill and hurt in the community, always paid attention to the ill who came to us, and when it was possible, did something to either alleviate their discomfort or to cure their affliction, all reflected very poorly on José. His tenure as promotor de salud had been marked by an almost complete disregard for the health and well-being of the Nanti, which had not aroused much comment until the Nanti began to contrast the way we approached health care with the way he did. It is important to note that the justification of José's presence among the Nanti is that he is their promotor de salud, so criticism of José's performance in that position was very threatening to him. Even Silverio found José embarrassing as a promotor de salud, and talked to us of wanting to replace him. Quite unintentionally, we came to represent a serious threat to José's standing in Malanksiá, and José's family group responded by eventually becoming very hostile towards us. This may not have been a great problem, had it not been for the fact that we were literally their neighbors, and their active dislike of us was evident almost every minute of the day.

Roughly a week after Migsero's visit to Malanksiá, we walked up to Montetoni to assess the health situation, and to make arrangements for our relocation there. Upon arriving, we were astonished to find a community twice the size of Malanksiá, and a group of people substantially more friendly, less demanding, and far more vibrant than those living in Malanksiá. We resolved to relocate right away. Two days later, we left Malanksiá for Montetoni with Silverio's blessing, and his instructions to make the Montetoni Nanti move to Malanksiá immediately. Like the Nanti, we chose to remain silent and neither agree nor raise objections to Silverio's demands, continuing our attempts to remain on good terms with Silverio.

We were made most welcome in Montetoni by everyone in the village. In contrast to the expectant and demanding demeanor of most of Malanksiá's residents, the people of Montetoni showed us tremendous generosity with food gifts, and frequently expressed their appreciation for our medicine, gifts and health work. We developed a friendly and honest relationship with Migsero, and as the situation between the Montetoni Nanti and Silverio drastically worsened, we expressed our solidarity and support of Migsero's and the community's efforts to remain autonomous and to live where they wished to live -- in Montetoni.

Despite our intentions to avoid becoming involved in the politics of the conflict between Montetoni and Silverio, of which we were slowly becoming more aware, we repeatedly found ourselves drawn in to the struggle between these two sides. Although we did our best to maintain a low profile and concentrate on the specific goals of our project, both Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti had their own reasons for involving us in what transpired. Two such occurrences were especially significant.

The first involved the attendance of the school in Malanksiá by some ten boys from Montetoni. These boys lived in Malanksiá during the week, and returned to Montetoni, an hour and a half walk away, for the weekends. They were fed and housed by the various residents of Malanksiá, and given the present scarcity of yuca and housing in Montetoni, Silverio spoke of them as a burden. Nevertheless, Silverio insisted that they attend school under these conditions until their families moved down to Malanksiá.

It was an awkward position for the boys, especially as the tensions between Malanksiá and Montetoni increased. Then a week of vacation in late July for the Fiestas Patrias, during which the boys returned to Montetoni, provided an opportunity for the boys to quit school. At the end of the vacation, they simply remained in Montetoni, and none of the adults in Montetoni pressured them to go to back to school. On the next day, Juan appeared with a letter for us from Silverio, in which he explained that we must demand that Migsero, the presidente of the community, send the children down to school, threatening their parents with imprisonment if need be. We explained the contents of the letter to Migsero, who was troubled by them, but we explicitly told him that we had no intention or right to tell him what to do.

He spoke to a number of the boys that same afternoon, and told them that Silverio wanted them back in school. We sent a note down to Silverio indicating that we had given Migsero the message, and that Migsero had told the boys to go to school. Over the next few days, a few of the boys went to school each morning, and returned each afternoon, walking over three hours a day. The remaining truants disappeared into the forest at dawn, emerging in the late afternoon.

An important result of these events is that it provoked much earnest discussion of the value and relevance of Silverio's school. It was clear from the discussions we listened to that the Montetoni Nanti had little interest in the school and did not see it as valuable, the reasons for which we explore in Section 7. Furthermore, everyone seemed to have a clear sense of the power struggle underlying the situation. During the various stages of this situation, we were frequently asked to express our opinion about the school, and if we thought that the boys should attend the school. Our own investigations into the nature of the education that Silverio was providing had convinced us of its essential worthlessness, and we saw the conflict over the boys as nothing more than an attempt by Silverio to maintain a measure of power over the Montetoni Nanti. We did not feel we could directly criticize Silverio, however, so we simply explained that we had schoolteachers and schools in our own country, and we thought that they were very important. Pressed further by Migsero about their situation, we replied that it did not seem that the students were learning very much from Silverio, and left it at that.

A few days after the boys went back to school, the issue died down. Over the next week all the boys stopped going to school once again, except for the eldest, Maximo. Although he clearly went against his wishes, he did so in deference to Migsero's request. After about a week back in school, Maximo fell ill with a fever and sore throat. Although the timing of the illness was suspicious, we treated him as though he were really sick, all the more so because he actually did have a low fever and swollen lymph nodes. He convalesced for a week as our patient. Upon his recovery, he did not return to school, and not a word was mentioned about the matter, not even by Silverio.

On the surface, the sequence of events is puzzling. Examining the symbolic nature of the events, though, makes clear what actually transpired. Silverio saw the boys' truancy, and their parents' complicity, as a rejection of his importance and power over the Montetoni Nanti. He therefore had to demand that the students return to school in order to reassert his power. That the Montetoni Nanti sent a few token boys at first showed Silverio that they were not interested in overtly fighting him, but also really had no interest in sending their children to his school. Knowing that he could not force any further compliance from the Montetoni Nanti in this area, he chose not to pursue a conflict he would likely lose.

Unfortunately, these events had repercussions for us. Silverio now asserts that the reason the boys left school was because we told them to do so, and has portrayed us as enemies of bilingual education. By doing so, Silverio deflects attention from the real issues -- the reasons for Nanti dissatisfaction with him and his school.

The second major incident that involved us in the conflict between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti occurred about ten days later, when early one morning Juan, who had taken the role of messenger between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti, arrived in Montetoni. The purpose of his visit was to deliver a message from Silverio: the Peruvian army was on its way to Montetoni to bomb the village and kill everyone in it, because they thought that the Montetoni Nanti were terrorists. The only way that the villagers of Montetoni would be safe was if they immediately relocated to Malanksiá. Upon receiving the message, Migsero brought Juan to us and had him repeat the message. We found ourselves being drawn into the conflict between Silverio and the Montetoni Nanti, and there was no obvious neutral position. To tell the Nanti that Silverio's threat was false would clearly anger Silverio, but to fail to do so, when we very well knew that the threat was a lie, would be to implicitly lend our support to Silverio's efforts to coerce and manipulate the Nanti. We decided we must tell Migsero the truth: the Peruvian army was not going to come to Montetoni for any reason, and never would. Furthermore, it was the job of the army to protect communities like Montetoni, not attack them. After Juan returned to Malanksiá, we continued to discuss the matter with the Montetoni Nanti for hours, and indeed, over the next several days.

The Nanti, while relieved to have us tell them that they were safe in Montetoni, were troubled by the evidence of Silverio's dishonesty. Migsero told us Silverio had been talking about terrorists for years, claiming that there were terrorists hidden in the jungle, and that the Nanti should limit their hunting activities to avoid them. But Migsero and many of the other men said they had traveled far and wide in their hunting trips and had never seen any terrorists.

Our assertions that these threats were not based on fact, and that the Nanti had nothing to fear from either terrorists or the Peruvian Army, for the first time gave Migsero and the villagers cause to openly question the veracity of Silverio's words. That Silverio would make up stories in order to coerce them to do his will was an enormous and powerful realization for them. By simply stating the facts as we knew them, which necessarily called Silverio's statements into question, a new perspective was revealed to the Montetoni Nanti -- that of examining the motives and realities behind people's words. At last, hesitantly, they concluded, "yamatabitakse naroegyi", "He deceived us." They could no longer assume goodwill on Silverio's, or anyone else's, part. On the other hand, examining our actions and words has shown the Montetoni Nanti that there exist outsiders interested in cooperating with them rather than coercing them.

Silverio's realization that we were diffusing his threats with facts only further increased his animosity towards us. One happy side effect of this ugly situation was that Silverio's attention was diverted from the Montetoni Nanti and focused on us, allowing them a respite from his pressure. Instead he turned to denouncing us, first to the Malanksiá Nanti, later to the Montetoni Nanti, and eventually to anyone downriver who would listen, by claiming that we were terrorists and drug traffickers, and that our covert plan was to harm the Nanti and to sell them into slavery. The Montetoni Nanti and many of the Malanksiá Nanti, however, took pains to explain to us that these were Silverio's words and feelings, not theirs; and that they were happy with our presence and welcomed us to continue our work among them.

After Juan delivered Silverio's threat about the attack of the Peruvian army, we heard nothing for some ten days. Then one morning, Rudi, Silverio's teenage son, showed up at our tent in Montetoni, bearing a letter. The letter was typewritten, indicating that Silverio had written it, and was an accusation, made in the name of the villagers of Malanksiá, that we were disrupting the community by inducing Nanti to return to Montetoni, and unless we forced the Montetoni Nanti to move to Malanksiá, or returned to Malanksiá ourselves, we were to leave the area immediately. Curiously, Silverio did not sign the letter, and it bore only the signatures of Rudi, José Arisha, Silverio's brother-in-law Ignacio, Erewakin [Eduardo], and Juan.

Almost immediately our tent began to fill up with Nanti who were curious about what was happening. They asked us what the letter said, and with Rudi present, we translated the letter as best we could. The Nanti were indignant, and asked Rudi who wrote it. Flustered, he blurted out that it was his father. We wrote a lengthy reply in which we explained our position: we had never advised or coerced any of the Nanti who had recently returned to Montetoni to do so; and we had not told and would not tell the Montetoni Nanti that they must move down to Malanksiá to live because, in our opinion, that was for them to decide, not us. As for leaving Montetoni, we still had work we wished to do there, and we were not yet ready to leave. Besides which, the Montetoni Nanti were happy to have us in their community, and it was their decision, not anyone else's, whether or not we were welcome to stay in Montetoni. Rudi took the letter, and he was happy to go. We surmise that neither he nor his father expected the contents of the letter to become public knowledge.

The contents of the letter were the subject of continuous discussion for the rest of the day, and much of the next few days. The Nanti went to great pains to make it clear to us that they were happy that we were in Montetoni, and that they did not want us to go. They told us we should ignore the letter, since Silverio, the man obviously behind the letter, was not their noshaninka, or companion. Silverio, they said, came from Chokoriari, not from the Timpia as they all did, and he could not tell us to leave their community. The same comment was repeated with respect to the Machiguenga signers of the letter. The only source of consternation to the Nanti was Juan's signature on the letter.

The fact that Rudi, José Arisha and Ignacio, all of them Machiguenga and Silverio's allies in Malanksiá, had been accomplices to this letter was no surprise. Similarly, Erewakin was such close ally of Silverio that his cooperation did not surprise us. We were very surprised, however, that Juan had signed the letter, as we had always regarded him as having an independent mind with respect to Silverio. The Nanti reacted similarly. They laughed that Erewakin, a teenager and a known thief, had signed the letter, but were shocked, and deeply troubled that Juan's signature appeared on the letter. Juan, after all, was Migsero's brother, and an influential man in his own right. For him to take part in an attempt to force us to leave was a betrayal in the eyes of the Montetoni Nanti. They regarded us as friends and allies, whom they wanted in the community, and an attack on us was indirectly an attack on the autonomy of their community.

This aspect of the situation reached an unexpected resolution, though. A few days later Arora, Migsero's and Juan's mother, visited Malanksiá to harvest some cotton from her cotton plants there, and returned with a visibly upset Juan. Apparently she had asked Juan why he had signed the letter that asked us to leave, and Juan had replied, dismayed, that he had never signed any such letter. In fact, he said that he had not even been in Malanksiá at the time, but downriver, fishing. Silverio, he said, must have forged his signature. As soon as Juan understood what had happened, he came to Montetoni to explain his innocence to us, but more importantly, to his brothers and the other villagers of Montetoni, who had come to suspect him of siding with Silverio. In the end, then, the only adult Nanti signature on the letter turned out to be a forgery.

The evidence that Silverio had been deceitful in this situation was perhaps even more striking to the Nanti than his lie about the Peruvian army. Here was direct evidence that Silverio was using deceit in order try to manipulate us and the Nanti. From this point on, the Montetoni Nanti began to look upon almost everything Silverio said with great suspicion.

Towards the end of September we began to make plans to leave Montetoni to rest and recuperate in Lima. Originally we had intended to stay until the end of October, but we wished to take a young Nanti man to the mission hospital in Kirigueti for treatment of what appeared to be a severe case of tuberculosis. The past several months had also been unexpectedly stressful for us, and we looked forward to a break. As we prepared to leave, many Nanti, including the presidente, Migsero, told us repeatedly how happy they were to have us in their village, and how much they wished us to return. They repeatedly asked us not to listen to Silverio's threats and instead to come straight back to Montetoni without stopping in Malanksiá. We promised them we would return.

Without a doubt, the months we spent on the upper Camisea were a turbulent time for the Nanti, for Silverio, and for ourselves. Our presence there triggered latent conflicts between the Nanti and Silverio that would otherwise likely have persisted unspoken. But we feel that the period of time since the departure of Silverio from Montetoni has been a very important and pivotal one for the Nanti; and that we have, to some degree, contributed to their welfare and autonomy.

Among the outcomes of the period of increasing estrangement between Silverio and the Camisea Nanti are the following:

The Nanti have come to realize that Silverio is not motivated by a concern for their well-being. Moreover, they now know that he is willing to lie to them and to use his access to desired manufactured items in order to manipulate them and coerce them into doing what he wishes them to do.
They have evidence that they can oppose Silverio's will and succeed in doing so.
The Montetoni Nanti now value their community and the spirit of unity and mutual trust that infuses it. The growth of a nascent sense of identity and distinctiveness from both the Malanksiá Nanti and the Machiguenga is developing.
The Montetoni Nanti are developing a sense that judgments by outsiders about their culture and behavior can be both flawed and irrelevant. This feeds an incipient desire for autonomy in both cultural and political matters.
They now know that there exist non-Nanti who are sympathetic to Nanti desires for self-determination and autonomy, and who are willing to help them materially.
They now see that they have the right to tell outsiders whether or not they are welcome in their community, and what behavior is considered acceptable in Montetoni.

Many of these outcomes have to do in one way or another with a growing sense of self-determination and autonomy among the Nanti. A number of subtle but important trends give evidence that the Nanti are once again living their lives to their own standards and not those of Silverio.

Since Silverio left Montetoni, for example, multiple family dwellings have begun to reappear, and many single family dwellings are built in such tight clusters that the distinction between a communal dwelling and the new single family dwellings becomes a tenuous one. The Nanti evidently continue to value a strong communal orientation in their dwelling pattern, and are unwilling to give it up at this point, despite Silverio's overt disapproval in the past.

Some aspects of Nanti life that Silverio has attempted to alter have even become focal points of the assertion of Nanti cultural autonomy. Such is the case with women's nose-discs, or koriki. As a number of women in Montetoni told us, "Ikanti, 'maika pitsotenkaigiro pikorikita'," ("He said, 'now you are finished with your nose-discs'"). Indeed, in Malanksiá, where Silverio now lives, this is largely the case. In Montetoni, however, many women continue to wear nose-discs. The symbolic status of the nose-discs is suggested by the actions of Arora, Migsero's mother, and three other Nanti women.

Arora, who had been living in Malanksiá, returned to Montetoni in September of 1997, expressing frustration with the behavior of Silverio and his closest allies. She made it very clear that she had no intention of ever returning to live in Malanksiá, saying that she intended to die in Montetoni. Apparently Silverio had harassed her verbally for having displayed a great deal of friendliness towards us, and she was also shocked by the theft of our possessions there. Shortly after her return to Montetoni, she put her nose-disc on, which she had not worn in at least five years. Over the next few weeks, as Silverio evinced more and more hostility toward the residents of Montetoni, three other women put their nose-discs back on, which they also had not worn in a great while. We also have recently seen photos taken by a Chilean anthropologist who traveled to Montetoni with the health workers from Camisea in November, which showed that at least a dozen more women have started wearing their nose-discs again.

The fact that the Montetoni Nanti have come to value the independence of their own community, and to see Malanksiá as under Silverio's control, is evident when they speak of Montetoni as "ashiegyi comunidad," or "our community," but Malanksiá as "irashi comunidad," or "his community." They now recognize that the Malanksiá Nanti have little to say about what happens in their own community, and wish to avoid being in this position again in their own future. Clearly, the Camisea Nanti, and particularly those who live in Montetoni, are at present in a very difficult and complicated situation. But their emerging sense of autonomy and self-determination holds great potential for them.

4.6 Politically Relevant Aspects of Nanti Culture

As a small and long-isolated group of people, there is substantial uniformity among the Nanti in their behavior and their ethics. While it would be irresponsible to attempt to stereotype Nanti individuals, there are certain values and attitudes nearly universal to the Nanti of Montetoni, and still shared by some of the Nanti in Malanksiá, that have been formative in the development of their present relationships with outsiders and the political situation in which they now find themselves. The observations made in this section rely on the daily experiences of the authors during their extended stay with the Nanti in 1997.

Above all else, the Nanti value cooperation and social harmony. Nanti individuals consistently display an unwillingness to engage in confrontation with others. Both in their behavior toward people, and in their discussions about other people, the Nanti will refrain from expressing disapproval, irritation or anger. Peaceful coexistence is the overriding goal of the Nanti, regardless of differences in behavior or judgment between individuals. Criticisms are made only in general terms, or of specific actions, but not of specific individuals. Interestingly, the positive or neutral aspects of a difficult social situation will be discussed at great length, but the negative aspects are expertly avoided. For example, all of the Montetoni Nanti and most of the adult Nanti in Malanksiá are extremely honest, and consider theft a grave offense against another person. And yet, when some of our food stuffs were stolen in Malanksiá, there were no inquiries or accusations made in Montetoni as to who the perpetrator was. Instead, animated statements were made to us by numerous adults that there were no thieves in Montetoni and would never be, although there were thieves in Malanksiá. The contrast between the absence and presence of thieves in the two villages was emphatically made, but only in general terms, leaving the listener to draw any further conclusions about the two villages. Furthermore, when instances of Silverio's ill will and deceptions were discovered by the Nanti, his words and actions were discussed, but his personal character was deliberately left out of the discussion. Migsero, the presidente of Montetoni, continually emphasized to us, despite numerous instances of Silverio's hostility toward Montetoni, that the villagers were not angry with Silverio ("tera nonkisaigempa" or, "we are not angry") and simply wanted to be left to do as they wished in Montetoni, as Silverio was free to do as he wished in Malanksiá. When the situation had escalated to the point that Silverio began repeatedly calling Migsero a "bad President", villagers in Montetoni expressed shock and disbelief that such a thing would be said at all, much less when it was clearly untrue.

The Nanti desire to avoid confrontation has played a role both in the ease with which Silverio has been able to control communal decision-making, and the ease with which he has been able to speak for the Nanti to outsiders, without the Nanti stepping in to speak for themselves. An example is furnished by something that occurred shortly after our arrival in Malanksiá.

Part of the material aid we planned to provide the Nanti was a boat and 16 horsepower peke peke boat motor which was to become community property. Our intention in doing so was to increase the ease with which the Nanti could reach the medical facilities at Kirigueti (and now, at Boca Camisea). Although Silverio owns a motor, it is not used for trips to the downriver hospitals.

Shortly after our arrival in Malanksiá, we announced our intention to donate the boat and motor to the community. Silverio told us that the boat and motor were not needed, since he already owned one, but that what the community really needed was a chain saw. In light of previous conversations in which he disclosed his intentions to begin a logging operation, this seemed suspiciously self-serving, but guided by our philosophy that places a high value on the self-determination of indigenous groups, we told him that if the community decided that it would prefer to use the capital we were offering to purchase a chain saw rather than the boat and motor, we would oblige.

At the next village meeting, called by Silverio, the issue of the boat and motor versus the chain saw was brought up by Silverio for discussion. Silverio spoke for a few minutes, explaining that we had offered to provide the village with a boat and motor. He then repeated what he had said to us -- that he already owned a boat and motor and that a chain saw would be most useful. No one else spoke, and he put the matter to a vote. He first asked who wanted the boat and motor. The room of roughly 50 men and women stared silently at him. He then asked who wanted the chain saw. The room remained silent, so he repeated slowly "motosierra, motosierra?" Two men, both confidantes of Silverio, now jumped up and excitedly repeated "motosierra, motosierra, motosierra," while the rest of the room sat as silently as before. Silverio then announced to us that the community had decided on the chain saw.

This set of events is illuminating for a number of reasons. The first is that Silverio apparently takes the lack of overt opposition as, at the very least, implicit agreement. While two votes for a proposition in a community of the size of Malanksiá could not be taken seriously as support by most people, Silverio not only took those votes as signs of community support but was perfectly willing to present them as such to us. Given that the Nanti avoid public disagreement or confrontation between adults, as we have discussed, it is easy to see why Silverio could come to conclude, in many instances, that the Nanti support courses of action they in fact do not. The truth of the matter is that in most cases such a misapprehension on his part was irrelevant, since Silverio could personally insure that the action was carried out. However, in the case of the proposed move of all of the Nanti to Malanksiá, for the first time Silverio was not in a position to impose his will on the Nanti against their own wishes, and the disjuncture between Silverio's perception of what the group had agreed to, and what they had in fact agreed to, became significant.

The second is that although the Nanti clearly had no interest on the chain saw, they did not contradict him by telling us that they wanted something else. Interestingly, when we later made an effort to ascertain what individuals in the community wished for in the form of material aid, the chain saw was not even on the list -- they wanted more metal tools and clothing. Thus, even though the Nanti had a clear idea of what they wanted, they did not feel comfortable in speaking to the outsiders, in front of Silverio, and contradicting him. This attitude on the part of the Nanti has given Silverio great power by allowing him to present his own wishes and opinions as those of the Nanti.

The lack of reaction by the Nanti at the meeting also points to the fact that public group-decision making is still alien to them. As we observed in Montetoni, group decisions were not made as a single act, in a public forum by voting, but rather in the course of numerous conversations between small numbers of individuals over the course of days or weeks. No doubt the apparent passivity of the Nanti in any meeting held to discuss the move downriver only added to Silverio's perception that they did not object to the idea.

Among the Nanti, the exact words that people use are attended to very carefully, and taken very seriously. In their conversations, they continuously employ direct quotation to pass on information or news in the village. Any person can expect to be quoted frequently, and have his words passed around many times after he has said them. The perceived character of an individual is very closely associated with his words, and the Nanti speak very carefully as a result. Thus the Nanti are particularly vulnerable to deception, because customarily they themselves do not lie, and have little understanding or suspicion that others may not be telling the truth. Therefore, whatever statements Silverio has made, especially about the outside world, the Nanti have always taken as truth. Only recently have the Nanti come to realize that all of his words may not be true, and this concept seems very troubling to them. For example, shortly after our arrival in Montetoni, Silverio made threats that the Peruvian Army would soon attack Montetoni, and that the Nanti had better move to Malanksiá for safety. Migsero brought this news to us with much concern. We earnestly explained to him that the Peruvian Army would not attack Montetoni, now or ever, because the Army's job is to protect Peruvian communities like theirs. Migsero was visibly confused; he was suddenly confronted with two conflicting claims about a very big issue. After questioning us intensely about the situation, he chose to believe us, perhaps because of the trust that had developed between him and us over the preceding weeks, and he immediately took the news to the rest of the villagers that we said the Army would not attack. After this experience, Migsero brought all of Silverio's communications and threats to us, and we would discuss their veracity. But Silverio himself was not discussed, nor were his words taken any less seriously; the words were instead no longer assumed to be true.

The Nanti consistently exhibit restraint and control in their interpersonal interactions; the Nanti do not raise their voices in anger, even at their children if they misbehave. In contrast, Silverio is aggressive and loud, and prone to angry outbursts. This behavior is clearly a cause of anxiety and fear among the Nanti, who take pains to avoid him at times when he displays his anger. Even in general conversations and community meetings, when Silverio speaks aggressively without anger, the Nanti react with awkwardness and silence.

It has now become a point of pride for the Montetoni Nanti that they are not angry people, are not angry with Silverio despite all that has happened, and are happy and united in their community. Their cultural value of cooperation and non-confrontation has become a conscious symbol for their group to identify itself by, and to distinguish it from the group living in Malanksiá.

Similarly, the Nanti of Montetoni are very generous, and have come to take pride in this value. During our stay in Montetoni, we were brought food gifts at least once a day, and in turns by members of all of the different families of the village. Their generosity was a surprising contrast to our stay in Malanksiá, where were given little food, but endured constant requests for any and every thing we had brought with us. We expressed our sincere gratitude to our generous friends in Montetoni, as well as our admiration of the bounty of their chacras. Yes, they answered, theirs was good and plentiful land, unlike the land at Malanksiá; and they were happy to share what they had. They expressed their sincere disappointment and sorrow that the people of Malanksiá were not generous with them if they went there to visit, nor with visitors such as ourselves.

A fascinating aspect of Nanti social behavior that supports their ethic of conflict avoidance is the way in which concepts or ideas are discussed for which they have no preexisting vocabulary or established rhetorical style. In their interactions, a single event or aspect of a larger issue becomes the focus of conversation and exploration, thus allowing the more confusing or dangerous aspects of the issue to be avoided and yet represented. For example, in the struggle between Silverio and the Montetoni community over the move downriver, the question of "kameti kipatsi", or "good land", became the focus of discourse among the Nanti, with us, and in reference to Silverio's pressure on them. An immensely complex situation was reduced to the eloquent defense by the Nanti that their land in Montetoni is "kameti", that is, good, rich and productive (which it objectively is), against Silverio's claims that it is bad, which mostly means that there is a hill abutting the village site that prevents easy expansion of the site. But through the discourse about the land, issues of the Nantis' freedom to live where they wish, the validity of Silverio's power over them and his judgment, and the consequences of moving downriver to the new site were represented and addressed. Interestingly, an ingenious response the Nanti made to Silverio's criticisms of their village site was to plant a communal yuca field on the hill! Similarly, the question of continuing to send the Montetoni children down to the Malanksiá school became a symbolic discussion of the Nantis' autonomy, the power Silverio had or didn't have over the villagers, and the real place and worth of education in the lives of the Montetoni Nanti; see Section 7 for a further discussion of the status of education among the Camisea Nanti. Also consider our discussion in Section 3 of naming categories such as "kwirink", in which behaviors of individuals have become defining characteristics of entire groups of outsiders for the Nanti. In each of these examples, Nanti discourse deftly explores and develops the positive aspects of a complex situation in order to shed light on the entirety of the situation.

Finally, another point of great relevance to anyone interested in investigating the current situation in Montetoni and Malanksiá is that the Nanti are generally very reticent to discuss subjects of conflict. Therefore, it is very easy to hear the claims made by outsiders, such as Silverio or José, about the state of affairs in Montetoni and Malanksiá, but essentially impossible to hear the Nantis' side of the story. This is the case for several reasons. First, no one, with the possible exception of the authors of this report, speaks Nanti besides the Nanti themselves. Given not only the shyness of the Nanti, but the difficulties in communication between Nanti and Machiguenga speakers, the obstacles to their obtaining the Nanti point of view are tremendous. Secondly, everyone assumes that Silverio, as well José and other Machiguenga, tells the truth. Their claims are received as fact by the outside world without question. Thirdly, the Nanti will not complain about anything, even, or perhaps especially, when directly asked. The manipulations and injustices that the Nanti are experiencing at present came to the attention of the authors of this report because we lived among them in their communities, quietly observing, and because we earned their trust. The ethic of harmony that the Nanti hold serves them wonderfully within the community of Montetoni, but it does them no service in the outside world in the face of manipulations and untruths perpetrated by non-Nanti.

Anyone who has genuine interest in the welfare of the Nanti, and in learning the truth about their circumstances, must visit them, interact with them and observe them, and must set aside the words of the Machiguenga about them. Too many examples already exist of the Machiguenga, and Silverio in particular, speaking for and about the Nanti without their knowledge or consent.

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¹ Interestingly, we have evidence from as recently as January of 1998 that he is still succeeding in convincing visitors of the fact that Montetoni is both smaller than Malanksiá, and due to be abandoned shortly: Job, a representative of COMARU, who went to the upper Camisea to carry out a census of the two Nanti communities there, only went as far as Malanksiá, because he believed Silverio's claims that there were few people left in Montetoni. Job took back census data that Silverio gave him, in which the population of Malanksiá was falsely inflated and that of Montetoni decreased.