Breath and Smoke: Tobacco Use among the Maya 0826360920, 9780826360922

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[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

B R E AT H A N D S M O K E

Tobacco Use among the Maya E D I T E D B Y J E N N I F E R A. L O U G H M I L L E R - C A R D I N A L A N D K E I T H E P P I C H Foreword by John E. Staller

University of New Mexico Press Albuquerque

© 2019 by the University of New Mexico Press

All rights reserved. Published 2019 Printed in the United States of America Names: Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer A., 1976– editor. | Eppich, Keith, 1971– editor. Title: Breath and smoke: tobacco use among the Maya / edited by Jennifer A. LoughmillerCardinal and Keith Eppich; foreword by John E. Staller. Description: Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Pess, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019016151 (print) | LCCN 2019981414 (e-book) | ISBN 9780826360939 (e-book) | ISBN 9780826360922 (printed case : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Mayas—Tobacco use. | Mayas—Medicine. | Mayas—Antiquities. Classification: LCC F1435.3.T63 B74 2019 (print) | LCC F1435.3.T63 (e-book) | DDC 972.81 —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019016151 LC e-book record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019981414 COV ER ILLU STR ATION : Detail from Mahy, “tobacco,” in Maya hieroglyphic texts: Ethnologisches Museum,

Berlin: [yo]to-ti u-ma-ya, yotoot ’umahy.

Designed by Mindy Basinger Hill

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations vii Foreword John E. Staller ix Acknowledgments xi Note on Orthography xiii CH A PT ER O N E  Introduction: Breath and Smoke 

Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Cardinal and Keith Eppich 1 CH A PT ER T WO  On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant: A Pipil Myth

from Nahuizalco, El Salvador Erik Boot 22 CH A PT E R T HR EE  The Intoxicating Lady: Tobacco and the Nature of the

Moon Goddess Martin Pickands 32 CH A PT ER FO U R  “Elder Brother Tobacco”: Traditional Nicotiana Snuff Use

among the Contemporary Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Highland Chiapas, Mexico Kevin P. Groark 54 CH A PT E R FI V E  Allopathic Shamanism: Indigenous American Cultures,

Psychopharmacy, and the Prince of Flowers Michael McBride 93 CH A PT E R S I X  The Smoking of Bones: Ch’orti’ Maya Use of Tobacco and

Ritual Tobacco Substitutes Kerry Hull 126 CH A PT E R S E V EN  “Tobacco” as Mentioned in Hieroglyphic Texts on

Classic Maya Pottery Flasks and in the Late Postclassic Codices: An Essay on the Hieroglyphic Signs Used Erik Boot 157 CH A PT ER EI GHT  Archaeology and Tobacco: Recognizing a Common

Staple in Uncommon Ways Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Cardinal 182 CH A PT E R N I N E  The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle: The

Functionality, Form, Context, and Distribution of Classic Maya Tobacco Flasks Keith Eppich and Olivia Navarro-Farr 203 CH A PT E R T E N  Modeled Miniature Flasks in the Museo Nacional de

Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán Jeb J. Card and Ana Claudia María Alfaro Moisa 227 Contributors 255 Index 259

I L L U S T R AT I O N S

Figure 1.1 Figure 3.1 Figure 3.2 Figure 3.3 Figure 3.4 Figure 3.5 Figure 4.1 Figure 4.2 Figure 4.3 Figure 4.4 Figure 4.5 Figure 4.6 Figure 5.1 Figure 5.2 Figure 5.3 Figure 5.4 Figure 5.5 Figure 6.1 Figure 6.2 Figure 6.3 Figure 6.4 Figure 7.1 Figure 7.2 Figure 7.3 Figure 7.4 Figure 7.5 Figure 7.6 Figure 7.7 Figure 7.8 Figure 7.9 Figure 8.1 Figure 8.2 Figure 9.1 Figure 9.2

Map of the Maya world 3 A Hummingbird Dance 37 A Hummingbird Dance 37 Snake Lady scene 44 Snake Lady scene 44 Examples of vessels 47 Tobacco plant (Nicotiana tabacum L.) and inflorescence 57 Chamula man using tobacco snuff 58 Preparing tobacco snuff from fresh Nicotiana leaves 62 Tobacco gourds, prepared tobacco, and bone dipper 62 Religious officials bless tobacco and gourds 70 Woman curer offers tobacco powder to the Earth Lord 73 Lacandon Maya girl holds a home-rolled cigar 94 Molecular structures of acetylcholine and nicotine 106 Molecular structures of LSD and serotonin 106 Vessel with procession 114 Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers 117 Madrid Codex glyphs 127 Examples of Ch’orti’ pipes 130 Bone-shaving ceremony glyphs from Copan Stela A 138 Aztec temacpalitotique sorcerers in the act of robbery 145 Mahy, “tobacco,” in Maya hieroglyphic texts 159 Vessels for tobacco 162 MAY, “deer hoof ” 163 Animal extremities in Maya writing 165 Deer offerings, deer heads 166 Deer gods, deer skulls, and hunters 168 Ke[e]j in Maya writing 169 Objects named ’otoot, “house [in the sense of home]” 170 K’uhtzil, “tobacco” 172 Examples of enema images 190 Enema pan 191 Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle 205 Ceramic miniatures of El Perú-Waka’ 210

Figure 9.3 God K and God L circular flasks 216 Figure 10.1 Flask A1-2798 231 Figure 10.2 Flask A1-2900 233 Figure 10.3 Tomb 2, Burial G, Structure B1-1, Tazumal 235 Figure 10.4  Pots 61 and 62 236 Figure 10.5  Texts of Flask A1-2900 236 Figure 10.6  Flask A1-3363 238 Figure 10.7  Grotesque figure on Flask A1-910 239 Figure 10.8  Flask A1-661 240 Figure 10.9  Flask A1-3216 240 Figure 10.10 Comparison of motifs on Flask A1-3216 241 Figure 10.11 Flask A1-86 242

viii

Illustrations

FOREWORD

The tall, broad-leaved, exotic, annual tobacco, particularly domesticated tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum L.) and wild tobacco (N. rustica L.), have complex cultural, symbolic, and religious associations with humanity throughout the Americas. After the Spanish conquest in 1519, tobacco spread throughout the rest of the world. The importance of tobacco among ancient Mesoamerican cultures, specifically to the Mayan-speakers, is made evident in the contributions to this volume. The early Maya largely considered Nicotiana a sacred plant, and this is clearly revealed in the iconography and symbolism throughout various Mayan regions. They associated tobacco with numerous deities, rituals, rites, and shamanism, where it was used in healing and particularly for accessing the tripartite cosmos. Tobacco was perceived as a “co-essence” or alter ego (nagual or tonos) of the Moon goddess, often associated in the annual cycle with lunar eclipses. Mayan healers (curanderos) and shamans used tobacco extensively for entheogenic, medicinal, and therapeutic purposes. Nicotiana rustica and tabacum are New World plants. Plant geneticists have documented that tobacco was originally domesticated in the southern highlands of Ecuador and the northern highlands of Peru about 5000–3000 BC. This is the lowest part of the Andean cordillera, a region renowned in the botanical sciences for its high incidence of endemism. The Maya were the first New World historians of smoking, and their devotion to tobacco is evident in their mythologies, ideologies, and its association with various rulers, deities, and elites in their hieroglyphic texts and architectural iconography. The importance of tobacco (both N. rustica and tabacum L.) among the Mayan cultures is brought out by contributions to this volume that focus on its associated linguistic terminologies and cultural references to the annual solar and lunar cycles. Trace elements can now be used to identify nicotine traces in ancient ceramic vessels. Such information provides insight into which vessels and other implements were associated with its consumption and into its antiquity among Maya in the different regions of Mesoamerica. Tobacco was central to various Mayan rites, rituals, legends, and folklore, particularly religious ideologies and iconography in the various Mayan languages. The Mayan language family extended to the eastern part of Mesoamerica in what is now Guatemala, Belize, and the Mexican states of Yucatán, Chiapas, and Tabasco. An outlying

Mayan language, Huastec, is located in northern Veracruz and San Luis Potosí, and its origins in these regions extend back 3,000 years or more. Contributors to this volume take interdisciplinary approaches that explore and illustrate tobacco’s varied and complex associations among various Mayan cultures. The evidence suggests that Maya smoked tobacco first and foremost to relax and also as a means of warding off undesirable and dangerous spiritual forces, entities, and spirits of the dead, as well as deadly reptiles, particularly snakes, and natural elements, such as lightning bolts. Throughout southeastern Mesoamerica tobacco was used by shamans to treat illnesses, ailments, bites, stings, body invasions, and other complaints, whether by being ingested, rubbed on, blown, sprayed, or spit from the mouth. In addition to warding off harmful spirits, tobacco also served as a vehicle for transmitting them to others. Among contemporary Mayan cultures it is consumed in two different forms: rolled up and smoked as cigars or cigarettes, or powdered and mixed with lime (calcium hydroxide) or ash (potassium hydroxide) in a gourd container, small amounts of which are then placed in the mouth and kept in the cheek. Smoking wild tobacco (N. rustica L.) to induce ecstatic trance, sometimes referred to as tobacco shamanism, appears in the hieroglyphic texts of various ancient codices and is also evident throughout the Mayan region in iconography extending back to the Classic period. Tobacco is believed to repel malicious spirits as well as unwanted pests and ailments. Maya shamans and healers often use tobacco to enter into a trance state. When it is used in less potent forms and quantities, it may have desirable effects on thoughts and feelings. Breath and Smoke: Tobacco Use among the Maya is the first publication to assemble scholarly work on this topic for this culture area. This volume provides interdisciplinary evidence that will greatly enhance our understanding of tobacco’s roles in Maya cultures throughout Mesoamerica. John E. Staller

x

Foreword

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This volume is the product of many extraordinary scholars all working to unravel the complicated place of tobacco in the lives of the ancient and modern Maya. Our gratitude is first and foremost to the contributors. We could not have asked for a better experience and outcome. Amid the teaching schedules, fieldwork, grant and publishing deadlines, research, conferences, and normal day-to-day life—thank you all for your diligence and effort! As with any academic pursuit we weren’t in this alone, and we know it! We acknowledge the directors, advisors, field crews, lab hands, and assistants that make anthropological work possible. Without this concert of effort such a grand outcome would not be at all possible. We also express our gratitude to the students, faculty, and institutions that supported our work. This product was made possible by all of you. To our family and friends: we with sincere love recognize your patience, investment, and attention. Without such unflagging encouragement our endeavors would be difficult at best to achieve. Thank you all! Finally, we pause in sorrow and dedicate this book to the memory of Erik Boot. His contributions here are the last of his prolific career. Erik was a genuine character, a dedicated scholar, and a friend to many in our field. His enthusiasm and passion for the Maya has provided a wealth of insight and research. Erik was a regular at just about any meeting or gathering where the Maya were discussed. His absence will be widely felt and his presence sorely missed.

NOTE ON ORTHOGRAPHY

This volume includes the research of scholars who have worked with a number of aspects of several Mayan languages, both modern and ancient. Each school and region demonstrates nuances in spelling preferences, and accordingly each contributor adheres to those preferences, but there are slight variations among the chapters. Broadly, the following orthographic conventions are used for the ancient hieroglyphics. Boldface letters are used for the transcription (the transference of individual components from one system to another) of Maya hieroglyphic signs; uppercase is used for logographs (logograms); and lowercase is used for syllabic signs (syllable signs, syllabograms). Hyphens separate individual signs in a glyph block (compound, collocation, or composite sign group) (e.g., ma-ya); square brackets indicate infixed or superimposed signs (e.g., [yo]’OTOT); a superscript indicates a doubled sign in spelling (e.g., 2ka-wa). The order of the values in each transcription is based on the common Classic Maya compounding principles (top to bottom and left to right), although there are exceptions due to scribal preferences, errors, and aesthetics. Added question marks in transcriptions (e.g., BAK?-TUN?-ni) indicate a degree of doubt on the identification and subsequently on the transliteration. Undeciphered signs are indicated with an ellipsis in the transcription (e.g., . . . -na) and consequently in the transliteration (e.g., . . . -na > . . .). Transliterations (complete phrasings based on transcriptions) are in italics. Reconstructed phonemes (of any kind) are not placed between square brackets. Although this is a common practice in epigraphic studies, it hinders a fluent reading. In the transliterations, phonemic reconstructions, such as vowel complexity, are presented. These follow historical reconstructions for Mayan languages based on cognate sets, not some set of spelling principles based on the hieroglyphic signs used. All reconstructions are tentative, under review, and subject to change as the cognate sets on which they are based are extended and reanalyzed. Occasional so-called T numbers (e.g., T671) refer to the Maya hieroglyphic signs as cataloged in J. Eric S. Thompson, A Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs (1962). For the modern ethnographies that use numerous Mayan languages, we have broadly adopted the orthography used by the Academia de Lenguas

Mayas de Guatemala. Primarily this follows the standard Spanish pronunciation. All words are pronounced with the stress on the last syllable. VOWELS

a | as in father e | as in bet

i | as in in o | as in omega

u | as in oops

U N G L O T TA L I Z E D C O N S O N A N T S

b ch h | as in hotel (soft aspiration) j | as in home (hard h)

k l m n p s

t tz w x y

G L O T TA L S T O P S

This is the constriction in “uh-oh” and is indicated by ’. Glottalized consonants have an apostrophe after the symbol for a corresponding unglottalized consonant: b’ ch’

k’ p’

x iv

t’ tz’

Note on Orthography

B R E AT H A N D S M O K E

CHAPTER ONE

Introduction Breath and Smoke JENNIFER A. LOUGHMILLER-CARDINAL AND KEITH EPPICH Columbus, during his first voyage, saw the natives smoking it, and in subsequent voyages the fact was noted that it was used by the aborigines in smoking, chewing and snuffing. It is supposed to have taken the name tobacco, by which the Spaniards called it, from the tabaco, which was the inhaling apparatus of the Caribbees. Killebrew and Myrick 1897

Three hundred years ago, Linnaeus distinguished and named 76 species of the Solanaceae (nightshade) family of plants, most of which are indigenous to the Americas and a few of which are native to Australia (Feinhandler et al. 1979; Goodspeed 1954). Among the vegetables and herbaceous plants in the Nicotiana genus of Solanaceae is the species N. tabacum (tobacco) (Goodspeed 1954; Killebrew and Myrick 1897:3; Knapp et al. 2004), which is the subject of this book. Tobacco, thought to be native to South America, was widely used throughout the New World by the time Europeans arrived (Killebrew and Myrick 1897; Robert 1949). Since Columbus’s fateful trip, tobacco has attained a common domestic presence worldwide. Tobacco was once the substance of Mesoamerican gods and rituals, but eventually transformed into a generally despised substance. Tobacco is among the most profitable global commodities, familiar but typically recognized only by its modern uses (mainly for cigarettes). It is our intention with this book to present a variety of scholarship that directs attention to the glory, uses, and purposes that are both present and past in the story of tobacco among the Maya peoples. That tobacco was and still is significant to the Maya can be easily identified among the ruins and artifacts, the wide plant distribution, and the present consumption practices. What remains less transparent is how and why tobacco became such an important

component in ritual, domestic, and recreational aspects of Mayan culture. We explore in the following chapters the usage of tobacco among the modern and ancient Maya through their own myths and narratives, through modern ethnography and the archaeological record, and through modern biology and contemporary pharmacology. Beyond the cigarettes, cigars, and chewing tobacco of our modern convenience stores, there were reasons in the past for carrying and consuming tobacco that were necessary and pragmatic rather than recreational. Once introduced to the other side of the sea, the Old World’s sixteenth-century medics hailed tobacco as a cure-all based on their own applications derived mainly from observations of Native American uses and consumption of tobacco products. The European medics termed it the “holy herb” and “God’s remedy” (Dickson 1954; Charlton 2004). Modern biology, of course, prefers to use the term “tobacco” for this plant. An entire genus (Nicotiana) covers a large number of closely related flowering plants and herbs. They are all conspicuous for their attractive and delicate flowers, which appear in shades of white, yellow, pink, red, and even bright purple. One of their defining traits is the concentration of potent pesticides in their leaves. The classificatory family is Solanaceae, the family of nightshades. This includes a very broad array of plants: tomatoes, potatoes, aubergines, and even petunias and chili peppers. Over their evolutionary history, the nightshades developed a chemical response to phytophagous (i.e., plant-eating) insects. They contain harsh alkaloids, especially concentrated in their leaves, which are hostile to insect and animal life (D’Arcy 1986; Heiser 1987). Among these alkaloids is capsaicin, which reacts with animal tissue to create a chemical burn. This is what gives chili peppers their distinctive and, to many humans, pleasurable heat. Thus, the sting of a jalapeno is the plant chemically trying to deter the would-be eater. Other more toxic members of the family Solanaceae are Atropa (deadly nightshade), Mandragora (mandrake), Hyoscyamus (henbane), Brugmansia (angel’s trumpet), and Datura (jimson weed), all containing the highly bioactive belladonna alkaloids atropine and hyoscine, also known as scopolamine (Brown and Palmer 1996:149–50). These toxic alkaloids (e.g., solanine, a toxic glycoalkaloid) are often present in parts of the same plants that we harvest for food; for instance, a tea made from potato leaves can create a crude but powerful poison. Likewise, the consumption of green potatoes has been known to cause significant bodily harm and, on rare

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Chichen Itza

0

e

c

N 50

100

Y

t a c u

io U

T z ot

Rio Nuev

Belize R

a t cin

l

su m

er

Tikal

o Martir

R

e lt a

El Perú-Waka’

e dr

iv

Rio San P

Tz

Palenque

o

Ri

o

Ho ndo

Calakmul

a

zil

Mopan K ’ek ch i Copan

C h ’ or

Guatemala City El Tazumal Calakmul

K ’ek chi

P ip

ti’

il

Ancient sites Modern Peoples

FIG U R E 1.1  Map of

the Maya world, ancient and present. Drawing by Keith Eppich.

occasions, death among unsuspecting consumers (Smith 2013; McMillian and Thompson 1970). In their own evolutionary history, tobacco plants created one of the more effective chemical responses of the nightshade family—highly concentrated amounts of nicotine in their leaves and stems. Nicotine is an exceptionally potent insecticide and successfully wards off most phytophagous insects (Carlile 2006; Schmeltz 1971; Steppuhn et al. 2004). Most insects that are exposed to

Introduction

3

even low concentrations of nicotine cannot survive the toxin. The old gardener’s trick of soaking loose tobacco in water for use in a spray bottle makes an effective and cheap pesticide, albeit one that should be used with great caution since nicotine tends to kill more than just a few fruit flies. Two plants, in particular, of the Nicotiana genus have concentrated the nicotine alkaloid in their leaves: the domesticated N. tabacum and its semi-wild, more potent cousin, N. rustica. The former is the more culturally important of the two. N. tabacum is a small plant, growing approximately a meter in height, with vivid purple flowers. The leaves are heavy and hang low, being broad and thickly veined. The leaves are very distinct, and the plant is easy to identify. Nothing else quite resembles the leaf of the tabacum plant. N. tabacum is likely the result of long-term human modification, as it possesses the low genetic diversity characteristic of domesticates. Genetic analysis has revealed that tabacum is the result of an ancient hybridization of closely related members of the Nicotiana genus, with the hybrid passing through several genetic bottlenecks in its evolution (Lewis and Nicholson 2007). The exact scale of the human agency in this long-term modification remains unknown. Most probably tabacum is, either in whole or in part, a product of Native America. Tabacum’s rougher cousin, N. rustica, is a much hardier specimen with very high concentrations of nicotine in its leaves. Rustica is a slightly smaller plant with bright yellow flowers and smaller, more rounded leaves. It is often cultivated for pesticides and for cheap, powerful cigarettes. Rustica can also be found growing wild at the edges of fields or along roadsides. These tough plants spread both intentionally and accidentally. Both tabacum and rustica were commonly encountered across Native America at the time of the Columbian contact and were previously unknown in the Old World. Presently, both species can be found on all continents except Antarctica (Gately 2003; Goodman 1993; Moyer 2005; Winter 2000). Europeans often saw tobacco in use, and their stories and descriptions of tobacco and its applications were lengthy given the diversity of the cultural uses observed. The name “tobacco” is believed to come from the Taino name for the pipe, tabaco or tavaco, they used to inhale directly into the nose; the word was likely mistranslated by Europeans as the name of the plant rather than the instrument used (Meyer et al. 1999). Bernardino de Sahagún in the sixteenth century documented medicinal uses of tobacco by the Aztecs among the extensive listing of goods and materials that he kept. These included the inhalation of tobacco odors to relieve headaches. Powdered tobacco could

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be applied around the nose and inside the mouth to treat colds and catarrh (inflammation of mucus membranes; Sahagún 1953). Pedro Alvarez Cabral observed that in Brazil, tobacco was used to treat “ulcerated abscesses, fistulas, sores, inveterate polyps, and more” (Charlton 2004:292). Tobacco mixed with lime was described in Venezuela by Amerigo Vespucci as a means of whitening teeth (masheri, still used in India; Brooks 1937). There are numerous reports of tobacco being used for everything from antidiarrhea treatment and pain management to burn and wound salves (Dickson 1954). By the late sixteenth century, tobacco (煙草, yāncǎo, also transliterated into Chinese from “tobacco” as danbagu) crossed from the New World and blended with traditional Chinese pharmacology. China may have displayed little interest in the mass consumption of chocolate or coffee, but it embraced tobacco. In the twenty-first century, China has become both the world’s largest producer and largest consumer (Benedict 2011; Brook 2004; Xun 2004). It has been adopted into traditional Chinese rituals and used as offerings to guests and ancestors during festivals; tobacco’s consumption and possession mark significant status, class, and patronage (Benedict 2011; Xun 2004; Yan 1996). Tobacco in China also occupies a nexus of the recreational, ritual, and medicinal. This resembles how the Maya, modern and ancient, have made use of these plants. Global practices of tobacco consumption and appreciation were heavily informed by the Mayan treatment of tobacco, which extended well beyond the recreational effect of nicotine or the simple pleasure of drawing smoke from a cigar or cigarette. As odd as it may seem to modern sensibilities, doctors throughout the world prescribed tobacco. The Maya, ancient and modern, refer to the plant as mahy, maay, moy, or ma’y, depending on the exact language and orthography. Other words, like siik’ (cigar) or k’uhtz (tobacco), seemingly are associated specifically with smoking or inhaling tobacco leaves. There are several examples of these ancient spellings in the hieroglyphic texts, including an example of k’uhtz in the Dresden Codex (15A2-3). It shows tzi-k’u (reflecting an incorrect spelling order) and k’u-tzi-li collocations, which refer to the plants in which the protagonists are entwined, possibly tobacco. The twisting and storing of tobacco is a known North American Native practice (see Pickands, this volume). Presumably, the word mahy in ancient contexts distinguished a powdered or pulped form of tobacco from a raw or rolled tobacco cigar: “The Tzeltal Maya of Chiapas chew powdered green tobacco mixed with lime and chile. The mixture is dipped from a long, tapering gourd with a little sticklike spatula; it strengthens the Introduction

5

teeth and enables one to withstand the fatigue of the road. . . . Starr [1900, 1902:2:71] adds that the mixture was called mai, a general term for tobacco in several Maya languages and dialects” (Thompson 1990:111). In the Calakmul las pintura murals, room SE1d shows two men smoking tobacco, one of whom is labeled as ’aj mahy (he of tobacco). Room SE2c shows two men, one apparently taking snuff. Present-day Lacandon Maya consume a smoky residue called ma’y (C. Andrew Hofling, pers. comm.),which is the same term reported by the sixteenth-century Motul dictionary and probably the same term reported in modern Yucatec as referring to a fine powder (Bricker et al. 1998:181). The Maya have long used and appreciated both tabacum and rustica, although they do not generally distinguish between the two except concerning flower color. Modern biology might be a bit fussier with species names, but the Maya are more interested in the effects of the plants. Modern Mayan groups, such as the Tzeltals, Tzotzils, and Lacandons, grind tobacco into a fine powder and mix it with lime, which they store in small dried gourds into which a small hole has been drilled. They carry these gourds into the fields. They occasionally chew and spit out this tobacco lime mixture as part of an effort to ward off reptiles (especially snakes). Cigarettes are carried for the same purpose (Groark 2010; Thompson 1990:110; Starr 1900–1902:2:71). For at least the past several decades, when afflicted by larvae that burrow into the skin (e.g., the larva from the botfly Dermatobia hominis), Tzeltals blow tobacco smoke onto a surface, such as paper, and rub the residue onto the wound to drive out or kill the larvae (Tzeltal Maya informant, pers. comm., 2010). Tobacco also plays a key role in many rituals, being offered to the gods both in the form of cured tobacco and in the form of smoke. A large rolled cigar is the single most common depiction of tobacco use in ancient Mayan art. These cigars are either composed solely of tobacco or rolled in cornhusks. Cigar smoking is strongly associated with the gods, especially the aged god known as God L (Schellhas 1904). This god is usually depicted smoking a cigar. Images of plumes of tobacco smoke emerge from the mouths of smoking gods in the ancient artwork and literature of the Maya. Today, the Maya inhale deeply from huge cigars or masticate fine tobacco powders to enter altered states of consciousness for shamanic rituals. They speak to the saints and ancestors, conduct curing and divination ceremonies, and pray for rain and good harvests or for spiritual defense.

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L AY O U T O F T H I S V O L U M E

The Maya of Central America are a major subject of previous and ongoing studies (figure 1.1). Researching the oral histories and mythic traditions of the Maya has been an enlightening method of examining the ritual interests and focuses of ancient practices. This has been especially true for the epic creation myth Popol Vuh of the Quiché Maya. Documented in 1861 by C. E. Brasseur de Bourbourg, variations of this story appear to have been present throughout the precolonized Mayan region. Vestiges of this rich tale can be seen in all forms of ancient Mayan imagery, such as on the Classic period polychrome vases and in the San Bartolo murals. Maya myths and legends are layered with symbols and allegory, most of which remain opaque due to the historical disconnect brought on by the Spanish conquest. Nonetheless, these stories provide means of identifying actors in images, events contextually depicted in art, and locations that are knowable by the cosmological design of sacred locations. Tobacco and its origins are among the mythic provenance stories, some of which are still told in current Mayan communities. The variations seem disparate upon first encounter, but there are commonalities and elements that can be used to explore the great significance of ritual tobacco consumption, as demonstrated in this volume. The contributors to this book also explore the usage of tobacco among the Maya within the plant’s particular cultural context as informed by modern biology and contemporary pharmacology. As the chapters show, tobacco has been one of the more symbolic plants employed by the Maya peoples. Both tabacum and rustica bear the parasympathomimetic (substance that stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system) alkaloid nicotine, which can have a number of potent chemical interactions with the human nervous system. The Maya certainly recognized the effects of these chemical interactions and indeed selected the plant precisely because of those effects while likely altering the genetic material of tabacum to enhance them. Tobacco became a key topic in art, iconography, and hieroglyphic texts and was both celebrated as a godlike substance and employed to treat common afflictions for many centuries. Maya tobacco practices straddle a recreationalritual-medicinal nexus, and thus its specific usage cannot be easily characterized. A Mayan ritual practitioner or curer may inhale tobacco smoke from a huge cigar to commune with the saints and ancestors to be advised on healing a patient. He may conduct a ritual involving a poultice of chewed tobacco and Introduction

7

a leaf to cover the burrow hole of a beef worm or colmoyote (Dermatobia hominis). J. Eric Thompson (1990:118) documented the medicinal use of tobacco in this manner, notably on himself (see also Balick and Arvigo 2015; Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:105; Winter 2000). While engaged in contacting the gods and treating the patient, the healer may also somatically enjoy the tobacco he consumes. Then, as now, nicotine addiction is a problem. In order to best research this godlike substance, we assembled a number of different scholars, each contributing a chapter that speaks to their specialization. This research covers the breadth of the Maya world, from modern peoples to the ancient past. The ultimate goal is to explore, however imperfectly from a twenty-first-century perspective, tobacco’s recreationalritual-medicinal nexus and the manner in which it reflects and embodies core cultural concepts among the Classic and contemporary Maya. Such a discussion can greatly inform modern scholars about the still poorly understood political and economic systems that existed during the Classic Maya civilization and the ancient cultural apogee of the pre-Columbian Maya. Johannes Wilbert in his 1987 work, Tobacco and Shamanism in South America, builds a convincing argument that the pharmacology of tobacco played a decisive role in shaping Native American religious beliefs and reinforced key tenets of shamanistic practice. Here, we argue that tobacco played a key role in aspects of the development and maintenance of Maya civilization, both in the past and in the present, similar to those attributed to maize and chocolate. That perspective guides the organization of the book. We begin with the origins of tobacco from a Native American perspective, wrapped in myths and narratives and all that is implied by those myths and narratives. The book then proceeds backward in time, moving from modern and ethnohistorically known Maya groups to the Classic Maya past. The epigraphic and archaeological treatment of tobacco is based on recovered materials from the ruins of the Classic Maya world. The data are largely to be found in surviving hieroglyphic texts, small tobacco flasks, and the chemical residues that cling to ancient artifacts. This movement, from narrative to text to archaeology, contains a large number of common elements. It stresses tobacco as magical, as mythic, as medicine, and as deserving a special place in the pantheon of Native American food and drink. In chapter 2, Erik Boot presents an origin myth for tobacco. The narrative from the Pipil people of western El Salvador concerns the plant’s supernatural beginnings. The Pipil are rather interesting as non-Maya people who speak a 8

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Nahuatl language and are surrounded by Mayan-speakers. They share a great deal of cultural commonalities with their Maya neighbors, having lived among them for a solid millennium. The story that Boot retells was collected in the early twentieth century as part of the pioneering generation of ethnology inspired and directed by Franz Boas. The narrative tells of wizards and witches, disembodied heads, calabash children, and the most beautiful girl who ever lived. The result of all these adventures of an unlucky, crafty Pipil husband is the tobacco plant with its delicate, colorful flowers—a reminder of his lost, beautiful daughter. Boot explores the narrative, noting its similarity to mythic stories from the Sauk and Penobscot peoples collected in the early nineteenth and twentieth centuries, respectively. From the pen of Black Hawk himself, the Sauk account features a woman descending from the clouds, a gift of venison, and the magical appearance of corn, beans, and tobacco. The Penobscot version is very similar to the Pipil narrative, involving an unlucky yet crafty husband and his magical wife, her sacrifice, and the appearance of corn and tobacco over her grave. Such mythic narratives, Boot notes, are quite rare. They are more than simply accounts of “how the leopard got its spots.” The Pipil story highlights three important aspects of tobacco. First is its supernatural origin and its status as a magical plant. As noted by J. Eric Thompson, tobacco was not just a powerful herb but also held a kind of magic. Through this plant, one could cure illness, divine the future, talk to unseen spirits, and enter altered states of consciousness. It is fitting that such a magic plant should come from legendary beginnings. Second, this mythic origin involves sacrifice and death. It has long been noted that Mesoamerican cosmology involves concepts of “original debt” (Hamann 2002). Everything requires a degree of payment. Fertility, prosperity, the movement of the Sun and Moon must all be paid for by someone. To receive this plant with its parasympathomimetic nicotine requires payment: death and sacrifice. Third, this sacrifice involves magical women: disembodied witches, beautiful daughters, or inconsolably sad wives. It has long been noted that tobacco usage is highly gendered and heavily sexualized across many different cultures (Gilman and Xun 2004; Wilbert 1987). In Western culture, smoking has long been personified as Lady Nicotine (Barrie 1890; Umberger 2004). Like ships and oceans, tobacco is generally feminized. The plant is a “she.” One burns her, consumes her, and acquires her magic. The mythic narratives presented by Boot follow the logic that the plant reflects and embodies this ethos of debt, sacrifice, the supernatural, and the feminine. Introduction

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The feminine is similarly emphasized in chapter 3 by Martin Pickands. Pickands elucidates the mythic narratives of the Mopan and K’ekchi’ Maya peoples of Belize while drawing out the potential layering of stories and myths mnemonically hinted at in Classic artwork. In the Mopan and K’ekchi’ mythic cycles, the Moon goddess is the first woman and the embodiment of the idealized feminine. She is the idealized exhilarant, the source of drink and smoke, and the “intoxicating lady.” Her father is the Earth Lord himself, which is probably the modern incarnation of God L from the Classic period. God L, one of the original smoking gods, is often depicted with a huge, smoldering cigar (Robicsek 1978; Taube 1992; Carlson 2011). Moon’s lover is the Sun lord, K’in, who often appears in Maya mythology as the senior of the two hero twins, Hunahpu, and is also sometimes the Maize God (Christenson 2007; Tedlock 1996). Her seduction, their elopement, her death and rebirth, and the invention of sex all give rise to bees, honey, stinging insects, alcohol, and of course tobacco. Tobacco is still said to belong to the Earth Lord, and Moon remains (of course) his daughter to this day. Pickands explores this narrative across the Maya lowlands, noting the many similarities among the tales of the Lacandon and the Yucatec and even the imagery of the Classic Maya. Pickands writes of the Maya view of tobacco’s “heat.” The Earth Lord’s tobacco already possesses “heat,” but that of his daughter must be married to the Sun to gain it. The tale of the Moon goddess mirrors the treatment and production of tobacco. This small, delicate, beautiful plant must be taken from its home in the earth, killed, shredded, mixed with aromatics, and reformed before she can be married to flame to produce intoxicating fumes. Kevin Groark’s contribution, chapter 4, builds on his previous research (2010) on tobacco use among the modern Maya peoples of Highland Chiapas. Among the modern Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya, tobacco remains a sacred and magical plant. They prepare tobacco into a finely ground substance mixed with lime and other aromatics, and they carry it in small, polished gourds. This tobacco snuff serves both as a therapeutic substance and as a source of magical protection. They refer to the tobacco as moy, but also call it such colorful terms as anjel, “angel,” or bankilal, “elder brother.” The powdered mixture they carry is literally “elder brother, tobacco.” This powered tobacco is placed in the mouth and then sucked or chewed, releasing juices that are swallowed. They consider this to be the most potent and effective manner of tobacco ingestion. Indeed, it seems to be since this method rapidly produces stupefaction or being “drunk” on tobacco. This inebriation is followed by an altered state of 10

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consciousness, one that can be enhanced or prolonged with the addition of more elder brother. Groark documents how every action with the tobacco snuff is wrapped in ritual behavior, from the selection of the plant, to the preparation of the lime powder, even to the correct way to remove the spent chew from the mouth. It is the ingestion, however, that involves the most ritualistic power. For example, rubbing masticated tobacco juice on the body protects against witches, demons, and evil spirits, while spitting tobacco juice can ward off snakes and storms. Tobacco as an offering to the Earth Lord may be made in exchange for lost souls, and smearing powder on one’s body can cure curses or enhance blessings with additional magical potency. This poxil (powerful medicine) is proof against both physical and magical sicknesses, a distinction that is not always recognized. Groark presents an effective folk pharmacology practiced among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya. Despite a wide range of applications, including use as a topical disinfectant, a purgative, an anesthetic, and an abortifacient, tobacco’s Native usage cannot be cleanly separated into the medical or the magical. Groark, like Pickands and Boot, discusses the highly gendered aspects of tobacco: the Maya distinguish between “male” and “female” gourds and “male” and “female” plants. Some communities even restrict the production of tobacco powder to men, although both men and women make use of their elder brother. Mike McBride’s contribution in chapter 5 details the union of Eurasian shamanism and New World psychotropics, including tobacco. Shamanism, he explains, is a ritualistic system of interacting with an animistic world, and psychoactive substances facilitate this interaction. The New World, far richer than the Old World with mind-altering substances, proved a fertile environment for the continuation and further development of shamanism. The migrating populations transported a variety of ritual practices and sought out plants to fulfill these expectations. As Native American cultures spread and multiplied, local psychotropics became incorporated into ritual-religious practices. From the Great Plains of North America to the Andes, shamanism cemented the use of drug-induced altered states of consciousness (see Wilbert 1987). McBride further evinces the biochemical aspects of these plants, which facilitated the needs of the migrant shaman. The desired substances, once ingested, bind to nerve receptors and alter normal neurotransmitter functions. Nicotine, for example, selectively binds to specific receptors, making them more sensitive to future doses of nicotine and to other chemically similar Introduction

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substances. Repeated doses eventually change the binding capacity of such receptors, actively altering brain function and neurochemistry. Humans do not build up a tolerance for nicotine, but experience greater effects and heightened experiences, becoming more sensitive to the psychotropic chemical. Tobacco chemically rewards those who specialize in its use. At the same time, it is toxic and likely carcinogenic, slowly poisoning those same ritual specialists. McBride’s chapter explores the implications of such a pharmacologically structured ritual-religious system in the context of the complex society of the Classic Maya. Heavy nicotine doses created a sense of having a displaced consciousness, an out-of-body experience, as well as a profound sense of physical transformation. This lent itself readily to the hunting magic employed by hunter-gatherers with practitioners leaving their body to be transformed into animal spirits. In the city-states of the Maya, such hunting magic transformed into the hunt for captives, which featured so prominently in Classic warfare. The same psychotropic magic that ensured success in the hunt assured victory in war. The Classic rulers’ ability to take captives thus echoed the ancient veneration of accomplished hunters. In this way, the pharmacology of tobacco directly informed the Classic Maya concepts of kingship. This is fertile ground for further investigation, studying the manner in which chemically induced states shaped Classic political and religious traditions, from possessing potent companion spirits, to taking captives in warfare, to venerating kings as powerful spiritual practitioners. Such research could also include the extent to which humans seem to be drawn to psychoactive substances, seeking out altered states of consciousness and pursuing spiritual enlightenment through neurochemical pathways. Kerry Hull in chapter 6 presents his research focusing on both the ritual and the domestic consumption of tobacco as practiced by the Ch’orti’ Maya. He notes preferences in daily ingestion (smoking versus chewing), the varied sentiments of how one feels about tobacco, and the means of describing another’s consumption practices. The view of tobacco in the communities appears to be dualistic: it is accepted in similar ways to that of other well-known foodstuffs, but also accepted as a curative substance. Tobacco is celebrated through all manner of offerings and rituals to maintain its strength and potency. It is the magical properties, explained in the mythic tales, which hint at the true nature of the Maya thoughts about and affinity with tobacco. As shown throughout this volume, the vast utility and potency of tobacco inspire the stories and the rituals that then inform consumption and treatment. Hull 12

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develops this consideration by providing a lengthy presentation of tobacco substitutes and rituals. Other herbs are selected for effects similar to those of tobacco or are used when tobacco is unavailable, but tobacco remains the standard against which these other substances are measured or considered. In a most interesting case, human bones are substituted for tobacco. Beyond the rituals and rites of daily affairs, this act of sorcery involves spirit exchange and a transformation into animals capable of acting out the will of the sorcerer. Hull presents Classic texts that may suggest this rite is derived from ancient practices. The use of human bones in matters of sorcery is known from other cultures in both the New and Old Worlds. In the Americas, tobacco, “the angel,” can be used against nefarious acts, as a treatment of ailments, including those caused by the malicious, or to promote well-being among the general population. Erik Boot’s second contribution to this volume is chapter 7. Boot addresses the epigraphic analysis of the tobacco glyphs on small ceramic flasks from the Classic Maya period. Specifically, he examines the epigraphy and terminology on the tobacco flasks in the Jay I. Kislak Collection at the US Library of Congress. Present on those ceramics are a number of Mayan glyphs indicating the function and content of the vessels. In some cases, the glyphs even give the names of the owners. A Mayan word for tobacco, mahy, appears most often. Boot notes that mahy possesses both alternative spellings and multiple meanings. Most dictionaries translate mahy as “tobacco,” but definitions that are more specific emerge from different sources. These sources suggest that mahy, moi, or mui refers to powdered tobacco mixed with lime and chili, which is sucked or chewed in the mouth. The glyphs are spelled phonetically in a number of ways or are written with a single sign, most commonly the deer’s hoof, MAY. There exists another glyph for tobacco in the corpus of Mayan hieroglyphs, k’uhtz. This is the term used in both the Dresden and Madrid codices, as well as on several different monuments and ceramic texts. Boot’s analysis nicely explains and diagrams the known epigraphy of tobacco across the Kislak Collection flasks and the Maya codices. Such tobacco lived, literally, in little homes, their ’otoot, and belonged to specific individuals. For example, one of the texts Boot presents is yotoot ’umahy ’ixik . . . -k chilaan huk/wuk tz’ikiin . . . -n’ or “[it is] the house of the tobacco of Lady Chilaan.” Lady Chilaan is a previously unknown noble personage from Sakunal, a place thought to be located at the site of Oxkintok. Boot’s analysis only hints at the richness of the early Mayan script and the place of tobacco in it. If mahy was Introduction

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powdered tobacco, was k’uhtz the plant or the leaves themselves? If so, did mahy shift to encompass all tobacco products? K’ekchi’ Maya workmen in the central Petén routinely share cigarettes and employ the mahy term. Cigar, cigarette, and loose tobacco are all mahy. Certainly, tobacco was used, gifted, and exchanged across the Classic world, and there were specific vessels crafted to serve as the “house of mahy.” These vessels employed a playful, versatile script to advertise what was given and to whom it was given. In chapter 8, Jennifer Loughmiller-Cardinal addresses the ability of chemical residue analysis to detect the presence of tobacco in pottery vessels recovered from the archaeological past of the Maya. Advances in modern chemistry now permit scholars to identify the ancient content of such vessels and to verify the claims made on the vessels’ exteriors. Some vessels held exactly what their imagery and hieroglyphic text claim. For others, however, the residue analysis seems to contradict the vessels’ glyphic texts. The imagery, iconography, and glyphic texts communicated specific information to their ancient Maya audience. Divorced from their ancient context, these communications can only be imperfectly understood by modern scholars. Advanced chemistry has proven to be an invaluable tool in furthering a modern understanding of ancient vessels. For our purposes here of understanding the uses and meanings of tobacco in modern and ancient contexts, this means searching for the residues of nicotine in various ceramic contexts. Loughmiller-Cardinal builds on her landmark 2012 paper (coauthored with Dmitri Zagorevski; see also Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016), which was the first detection of nicotine in a Classic Maya ceramic. In the original paper, the authors were careful to note the limitations of residue analysis and to acknowledge the thorny problem of negative results. They also stressed that residue analysis can extend beyond ceramics into soil analysis from both cave and funerary contexts and, potentially, analysis of the metates used to grind the tobacco in the first place. The archaeometry of nicotine is a rapidly advancing technique, growing more flexible and sensitive with each passing year. It is only a matter of time until residue analysis is routinely conducted on archaeologically recovered materials From modern and historic ethnography, researchers know that the modern Maya consider tobacco to be a unique, magical, and even godlike substance; it is powerful magic and wrapped in ritualistic behaviors. It remains unknown, however, how deep into the past such an aesthetic extends. Mayan glyphic texts can claim that the flasks contained tobacco, or ancient iconography can 14

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display tobacco imagery, but such claims require verification. Texts may be symbolic, and iconography can be misconstrued. Chemistry, however, remains objective and indifferent to ancient text and imagery. Nicotine is either present or it is not. In the study of the ancient Native American past, this type of clarity is rare. Archaeometric study can provide such clarity, and this is the approach taken by Loughmiller-Cardinal. Both ancient iconography and advanced chemistry inform modern scholars about the use and significance of tobacco from the long-term perspective provided by archaeological study. Chapter 9 by Keith Eppich and Olivia Navarro-Farr addresses the context of Classic Maya snuff bottles recovered archaeologically. These vessels, long referred to in the literature as “poison bottles,” can now be positively identified as having tobacco as one of their potential contents. They are the ancient equivalents of the tobacco gourds described in Kevin Groark’s chapter (see also Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016). Eppich and Navarro-Farr examine the functionality, form, context, and distribution of the tobacco flasks. They do this through the examination of a flask recovered from the tomb of an early eighth-century Mayan queen, Lady K’abel. Archaeologists recovered Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle at the site of El Perú-Waka’ in the northwestern section of Guatemala, although her snuff bottle hails from the other side of the Classic Maya world: Copan in northern Honduras. This find hints at a vast system of trade and exchange that entangled most of the Classic Maya world into social, commercial, and political networks. Small, decorated flasks have been recovered throughout the Classic Mayan territories, and most have been recovered from Late Classic funerary contexts. Generally, these flasks are highly decorated, distinctive, and patterned with their distribution both inside specific cities and across the Classic Maya world. The traditions of clay tobacco/snuff bottles in the ancient Maya past seem localized, with substantial evidence of use at some sites while neighboring sites show little or no use at all. Eppich and Navarro-Farr emphasize the special distinction held by the city of Copan, where the most elaborate flasks originate and in numbers that dwarf any other Classic Maya city. The authors raise the possibility that residents of ancient Copan, like modern farmers of the valley, might have grown a unique high-quality tobacco leaf, mixed it specially, and distributed it across the Classic world. One of these vessels crossed considerable distances to end up in the possession of the early eighth-century queen Lady K’abel. Eppich and Navarro-Farr clearly describe the archaeological context of their Introduction

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discoveries and evidence supporting an intensified Late Classic significance for tobacco and tobacco flasks. Like the other contributors, they build a case for a multiplicity of uses of tobacco, especially noting the archaeological conditions and contexts, which allows for greater discussions of curing, divining, shamanistic ritual, ceremonial practice, social display, and recreation. Such uses are well documented among Native American societies, including the Maya societies. Thus, what seems to be moving across the Classic world is not just high-quality specialty tobacco, but high-quality tools. In a similar vein, Jeb J. Card and Ana Claudia María Alfaro Moisa’s chapter 10 addresses the tobacco flasks of El Salvador. The flasks in the collection of the Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán (MUNA) display many of the same characteristics noted in the chapter by Eppich and Navarro-Farr. The majority of the MUNA vessels are known from elite burials, generally date to the Late Classic, and focus on the outsized influence of the city-state of Copan. The authors note that such ceramic vessels are part of a regional pattern of molded and carved flasks, a pattern centered on Copan. One remarkable example in the MUNA collection is the only known flask that bears the image and name of a Classic king, K’ahk’ Uti’ Witz’ K’awiil, the twelfth ruler of the Copan dynasty. Card and Alfaro Moisa interpret this as a gift from that Classic ruler to his allies and subordinates in the highlands of El Salvador. The snuff bottles thus flowed along lines of social and political importance, imperfectly mapping those relationships in the archaeological record. Other flasks fit in the same regional pattern, apparently moving outward from Copan across the mountain communities and being copied and emulated by local ceramic artisans. Although the majority of the MUNA flasks lack archaeological provenience, they bear glyphic texts and imagery of both smoking gods and tobacco leaves. Again, they represent the regional pattern of gifted ceramics moving along the social, political, and commercial lines present in antiquity. Their numbers suggest a vibrant local tradition and a local preference for tobacco snuff that exceeded that in other portions of the Maya world. Card and Alfaro Moisa note the uniformity of such vessels but caution against inferring that such molded vessels were mass-produced on any scale. Their chapter nicely details the localism of tobacco traditions. Some areas of the ancient Maya world liked their tobacco as snuff. Others were content with the traditional Maya cigar or perhaps abstained altogether. Card and Alfaro Moisa note the similarity in the patterning between the MUNA flasks and the 16

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elaborately painted polychromes of the Maya lowlands. This suggests that the role played by cacao in the lowlands might have been played by tobacco in the highlands, which would help to explain the outsized influence of Copan in the highlands. Tobacco is a magical substance, and the Copan Valley was a likely source of high-quality tobacco. Hence, Copan was a source of magic and gifted this magic to its friends and allies across the mountains that make up the modern nation of El Salvador. CONCLUSION

Our intention with this volume is to highlight tobacco’s place among the significant plants once widely consumed in the Americas by showing the special primacy of tobacco in Maya daily and ritual lifeways—a similar significance to that of maize and chocolate. Among the many means of understanding the ancient Maya, the world that once was theirs, and the methods through which they ordered it, the substances highlighted in their texts and images must be examined. Archaeologists and anthropologists alike have long acknowledged that knowing the diet, the consumed ritual foodstuffs, and thus the local foodstuffs for both lends insight into economic, religious, and even political concerns. If we understand those better, then daily behaviors can be better assessed as material remains are recovered. By assessing myths, imagery, hieroglyphic texts, material goods, modern practices, and their somatic effects, the Mayan world’s past might become more evident. Tobacco has always been a dualistic substance of benefit and harm. While our modern view has been focused on the negative, these plants should be reconsidered for their full range of effects. The Maya observed this balance as did many of the Old World cultures that incorporated tobacco into their lives, but this balance has long since ended. If we are to appreciate the ancient world beyond the temples and material goods, we need to add back the substances that filled the vessels and were consumed in these ancient spaces. Tobacco was certainly one of the most significant plants for the Maya. It is a fascinating substance that was selected for ritual use because of its consumption by fire, its intense aromatic smoke, and the thick serpentine plumes that form during consumption. As Arents observed, “It was beautiful in bloom; and it was consumed by fire—the cleanser; it mysteriously disappeared into the great void, the abode of gods and departed spirits, to whom [the] breath of its smoke was sweet” (Robicsek 2004:32, citing Arents 1937:23). Introduction

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REFERENCES CITED Arents, George 1937 Tobacco: Its History Illustrated by the Books, Manuscripts, and Engravings in the Library of George Arents, Jr., ed. Jerome E. Brooks. New York: Rosenbach. Balick, Michael J., and Rosita Arvigo 2015 Messages from the Gods: A Guide to the Useful Plants of Belize. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Barrie, James Matthew 1890 My Lady Nicotine: A Study in Smoke. Boston: Knight and Millet. Benedict, Carol 2011 Golden-Silk Smoke: A History of Tobacco in China, 1550–2010. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bricker, Victoria R., Eleuterio Po’ot Yah, and Ofelia Dzul de Po’ot 1998 A Dictionary of the Maya Language as Spoken in Hocabá, Yucatán. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Brook, Timothy 2004 Smoking in Imperial China. In Smoke: A Global History of Smoking, ed. Sander L. Gilman and Zhou Xun, 84–91. London: Reaktion. Brooks, Jerome, ed. 1937 Tobacco: Its History Illustrated by the Books, Manuscripts, and Engravings in the Library of George Arents, Jr., vol. 1: 1507–1615. New York: Rosenbach. Brown, J., and T. Palmer 1996 Atropine, Scopolamine, and Related Belladonna Alkaloids. In Goodman’s and Gilman’s: The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. P. Molinoff and R. Ruddon, 149–54. New York: McGraw-Hill. Carlile, Bill 2006 Pesticide Selectivity, Health, and the Environment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carlson, John B. 2011 Lord of the Maya Creations on His Jaguar Throne: The Eternal Return of Elder Brother God L to Preside over the 21 December 2012 Transformation. In Proceedings IAU Symposium No. 278, ed. Clive L. N. Ruggles, 203–213. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Charlton, Anne 2004 Medicinal Uses of Tobacco in History. Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine 97:292–96. Christenson, Allen J. 2003 Popol Vuh: The Sacred Book of the Maya. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 18

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D’Arcy, William G. 1986 Solanaceae Biology and Systematics. New York: Columbia University Press. Dickson, Sarah 1954 Panacea or Precious Bane: Tobacco in Sixteenth Century Literature. New York: New York Public Library. Feinhandler, Sherwin J., Harold C. Fleming, and Joan M. Monahon 1979 Pre-Columbian Tobaccos in the Pacific. Economic Botany 33(2):213–26. Gately, Iain 2003 Tobacco: A Cultural History of How an Exotic Plant Seduced Civilization. New York: Grove. Gilman, Sander L., and Zhou Xun, eds. 2004 Smoke: A Global History of Smoking. London: Reaktion. Goodman, Jordan 1993 Tobacco in History: The Cultures of Dependence. London: Routledge. Goodspeed, Thomas Harper 1954 The Genus “Nicotiana”: Origins, Relationships, and Evolution of Its Species in the Light of Their Distribution, Morphology, and Cytogenetics. Waltham, MA: Chronica Botanica. Groark, Kevin P. 2010 The Angel in the Gourd: Ritual, Therapeutic, and Protective Uses of Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum) among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. Journal of Ethnobiology 30(1):5–30. Hamann, Byron 2002 The Social Life of Pre-Sunrise Things: Indigenous Mesoamerican Archaeology. Current Anthropology 43(3):351–82. Heiser, Charles B. 1987 Nightshades: The Paradoxical Plants. New York: Freeman. Houston, Stephen, David Stuart, and Karl Taube 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Killebrew, Joseph Buckner, and Herbert Myrick 1897 Tobacco Leaf, Its Culture and Cure, Marketing and Manufacture: A Practical Handbook on the Most Approved Methods in Growing, Harvesting, Curing, Packing and Selling Tobacco, Also of Tobacco Manufacture. New York: Orange Judd Company. Knapp, Sandra, et al. 2004 Solanaceae: A Model for Linking Genomics with Biodiversity. Comparative and Functional Genomics 5(3):285–91. Lewis, R. S., and J. S. Nicholson 2007 Aspects of the Evolution of Nicotiana tabacum L. and the States of the Introduction

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United States Nicotiana Germplasm Collection. Genetic Resources and Crop Evolution 54:727–40. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer, and Dmitri Zagorevski 2016 Maya Flasks: The “Home” of Tobacco and Godly Substances. Ancient Mesoamerica 27(1):1–11. McMillian, Mary, and J. C. Thompson 1970 An Outbreak of Suspected Solanine Poisoning in Schoolboys: Examination of Criteria of Solanine Poisoning. Quarterly Journal of Medicine 48(190):227–44. Meyer, F. G. , E. E. Trueblood, and J. L. Heller 1999 Commentary, Volume 1: The Great Herbal of Leonhardt Fuchs: Di Histoia Stirpium Commentarii Insignes, 1542. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press. Moyer, David B. 2005 The Tobacco Book: A Reference Guide of Facts, Figures, and Quotations about Tobacco. Santa Fe, NM: Sunstone. Robert, Joseph C. 1949 The Story of Tobacco in America. New York: Knopf. Robicsek, Francis 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 2004 Ritual Smoking in Central America. In Smoke: A Global History of Smoking, ed. Sander L. Gilman and Xun Zhou, 30–37. London: Reaktion. Sahagún, B. de 1953 Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Santa Fe, NM: SAR Press and University of Utah. Schmeltz, Irwin 1971 Nicotine and Other Tobacco Alkaloids. In Naturally Occurring Insecticides, ed. Martin Jacobson and Donald G. Crosby, 99–136. New York: Dekker. Smith, K. Annabelle 2013 Horrific Tales of Potatoes That Caused Mass Sickness and Even Death. Smithsonian.com. Starr, F. 1900 Notes upon the Ethnography of Southern Mexico. Vol. 8. Davenport, IA: Proceedings of the Davenport Academy of Natural Sciences. 1902 Notes upon the Ethnography of Southern Mexico. Vol. 9. Davenport, IA: Proceedings of the Davenport Academy of Natural Sciences. Steppuhn, Anke, et al. 2004 Nicotine’s Defensive Function in Nature. PLoS Biology 2(8):e217.

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Taube, Karl Andreas 1992 The Major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Tedlock, Dennis 1996 Popol Vuh: The Definitive Edition of the Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life and the Glories of Gods and Kings. New York: Simon and Schuster. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1990 [1970] Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Umberger, Eugene 2004 In Praise of Lady Nicotine: A Bygone Era of Prose, Poetry . . . and Presentation. In Smoke: A Global History of Smoking, ed. Sander L. Gilman and Zhou Xun, 236–47. London: Reaktion. Wilbert, Johannes 1987 Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Winter, Joseph C. 2000 Tobacco Use by Native North Americans: Sacred Smoke and Silent Killer. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Xun, Zhou 2004 Smoking in Modern China. In Smoke: A Global History of Smoking, ed. Sander L. Gilman and Zhou Xun, 160–71. London: Reaktion. Yan, Yunxiang 1996 The Flow of Gifts: Reciprocity and Social Networks in a Chinese Village. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press. Zagorevski, Dmitri V., and Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Newman 2012 The Detection of Nicotine in a Late Mayan Period Flask by Gas Chromatography and Liquid Chromatography Mass Spectrometry Methods. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry 26:403–11.

Introduction

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CHAPTER TWO

On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant A Pipil Myth from Nahuizalco, El Salvador ERIK BOOT

In the corpus of origin myths either recorded in ancient Mesoamerica or told and collected in present-day Mesoamerica in only a rare case is the origin of tobacco discussed. The one rare myth I am familiar with on this specific subject comes from El Salvador, was collected in Nahuizalco, and was published on two occasions by the Swedish botanist and anthropologist Carl Vilhelm Hartman, the first time in English (1907) and the second time in French (1910). In the spring of 1899, Hartman began his “ethnological investigations of more than a year” among the Pipiles of El Salvador, more specifically the area around the town of Nahuizalco, located in the Sonsonate department of southwestern El Salvador (Hartman 1901:279, 1907:144, 146, 2001:149). In his 1907 article, “Mythology of the Aztecs of Salvador,” he first published the myth on the origin of tobacco, the culmination of a wonderful story on the origin of the calabash tree. Hartman had previously published on the calabash tree in a German-language article in a 1906 volume dedicated to Franz Boas, which saw an extension and a translation into French some years later (Hartman 1910). Hartman does not state in which format he collected the myth and never reveals whether it was told to him in Spanish or in Pipil. In his 1901 article, Hartman does mention he worked with an interpreter and assistant named José Bernal (Hartman 1901:283, 2001:155). There is a possible clue in his publication of the myth; at one point the phrase “nothing remained of them but ‘dust and skulls’” has the addition between brackets of “pinole y calaveras.” This suggests that the main body of the myth was collected in Spanish either from the original storyteller or through José Bernal. The myth, which is presented below as published by Hartman, presents a wealth of information, although there is insufficient space to analyze it in

detail here. I let the myth, “The Origin of the Calabash Tree and the Tobacco Plant” (in the French article shortened to simply “L’origine du calebassier”), speak for itself: The wizards come into the houses by night in the shapes of dogs, hogs, cats, or owls, and entice the women away with them. The women are acquainted with a number of tricks and dodges of which the men have no knowledge. The men are asleep, unaware of everything. Sesimite, or the Giant, was in the habit of coming to a house in the pueblo of Ahuachapan and carrying off the wife of one of the men to enjoy her. The neighbor, the husband’s friend, observed it and gave him warning. “Do you not know,” said he, “that your wife is a witch, who steals away at night in a disguise to meet her lover? Take care of yourself!” The husband kept watch over his wife, and observed her get up in the middle of the night and place a log of wood in his arms instead of herself. Then she swung herself up to the beams of the ceiling, falling straightaway to the floor, where she lay headless, her head having vanished through the door. The husband narrated to his neighbor what had happened. “What am I to do?” he said. “Let us think [of] something to do!” said his neighbor. “Let the body lie where it is, but put a heap of hot ashes on the spot where the head belongs. That is the best method of curing women who give themselves up to witchcraft.” The man did as he was told. Later, during the night, the head returned, but could not succeed in attaching itself to the trunk. “Where are you, you cruel husband, who have done this thing?” the head exclaimed. The husband, however, who had gone up to the loft, made no reply, but sat crouched up in a corner perfectly still. Thereupon the head flew up to the loft. When it saw the husband, it settled on his shoulder and stuck fast there. The man being aware of the fact with regard to witches, that you never get rid of them, if once they settle on your body in that manner, was grievously distressed at his woeful fate and went to the priest to inquire what he ought to do. “Take matters quietly and wait!” said the priest. The head, however, remained on the man’s shoulder. The man wept at his misfortune, but that availed nothing. Not until after the lapse of a long time did the man succeed in enticing the head to leave his shoulder. That occurred on one occasion, when the man was out in the woods, and at a time of the year when the zapotes were just beginning to ripen. On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant 2 3

The man, as he was wandering about in the woods, caught sight of a gigantic zapote tree. “My woman,” said the man to the head, “there are some zapotes already ripe in that tree. Would it not be nice to have some zapotes to eat? I know you are fond of that kind of fruit! Get off my shoulder while I climb up the tree, and . . . you sit here meanwhile on my backcloth,” said the man. So saying he spread out his garment on the ground and the head settled itself down upon it. The man then climbed the tree and got hold of a few quite green zapotes, which he hurled with all his force at the head. It jumped and cried out and called upon the man for mercy. “Have pity, for mercy’s sake, have pity upon me. Oh, cruel husband that you are! Do you want to kill me?” “Oh, no,” said the man. “Why, I was choosing . . . the fruit that is ripest, those green zapotes fell off accidentally.” Straightaway he began anew to hurl down upon the head the hard green fruit, and the head yelled and uttered lamentations. At that moment a roe happened to be passing quite near to the spot.1 The head then sprang up into the air and settled on the back of the roe, who in terror made off into the woods. The [head’s] plaits came undone and the hair was tossed about by the wind. At the first precipice she came to, the roe threw herself over, and nothing remained of them but dust and skulls [pinole y calaveras]. The husband then returned to the priest and reported what had happened. The priest replied: “You must now follow in the footsteps of the roe and collect all the hairs which [will] aid you in finding the place where the head lies. Then you must bury the head with all the hair at the same spot, and you must carefully tend the mound over the grave. For from that head something will arise.” The man obeyed the priest’s instructions. After burying the head he made a habit of going every fifteenth day to put the grave in order and to root up the weeds. He had been to the grave in this way many times, when one day he saw a sprout shooting up out of the mound. The young plant grew apace and soon became a tree, which one day brought forth a black flower, resembling the bowl of a pipe in shape. This flower gave [way] to a very large, round, green fruit. The tree was that which we now call “huachkal quahuit” [calabash tree].2 Once more the husband repaired to the priest and narrated what had taken place. “Be very careful of that fruit,” said the priest. “Do not touch it until it is quite ripe.” When the fruit had at length ripened and gone yellow, it fell to the ground. Then the priest lent the man a saw, with which he

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very cautiously began to divide the shell. To his amazement he observed something moving inside the fruit. His surprise turned into alarm when he plainly heard infant voices from within the calabash. The shell of the fruit had now been cut open. Within there were four small children, three boys and a girl, who at once asked him: “Are you our father? Where then is our mother?” The mother being dead, the children were taken in hand by the husband’s parents-in-law, Sesimite the Giant and Tanteputz the man-eating woman. The virgin up in the sky, to wit the Moon, dispatched a messenger, carrying a bamboo joint filled with milk from her own breast to the motherless little children found in the calabash.3 The messenger handed the joint to the alligator, who, however, drank up the milk himself. The rabbit, on hearing that, went to the alligator to ask him what he had done with the milk sent by the Moon to the motherless children in the calabash. “Here it is,” said the alligator, opening its mouth and stretching out its tongue. With a rapid slash the rabbit cut off the alligator’s tongue, leaving only a short stump in its mouth. Thereupon the alligator dived down into a deep pool. Ever since he lost his tongue the alligator in shame frequents the deepest pools of the rivers to hide himself. The girl in the calabash was named Xochit Sihuat, “the flower girl.” In [the] course of time she became one of the most beautiful women that [has] ever lived. Her black hair was very long, and she was ever encompassed with that fresh scent that emanates from a woman on leaving the bath. “No man shall ever touch me,” she said, “but after I am dead all the people in the world shall take delight in the glorious strength of which I am possessed.” She died quite young, a virgin as she had vowed, and on her grave there sprang up a plant called yet, which has a finer aroma and is possessed of diviner qualities than any other plant in the world.4 (Hartman 1907:144–46) I now present two other myths on the origin of tobacco, which seemingly have some details in common with the Pipil story from El Salvador. The first was told by Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak (aka Black Hawk, 1767–1838) in 1833 as part of his autobiography, which contains a wealth of information on Sauk cultural traditions and society. The myth was presented by Ma-ka-tai-me-shekia-kiak as part of a description of one of the great festivals celebrated by the Sauk, which offered thanks to the Great Spirit for giving corn: On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant 2 5

I will here relate the manner in which corn first came. According to tradition handed down to our people, a beautiful woman was seen to descend from the clouds, and alight upon the earth, by two of our ancestors who had killed a deer, and were sitting by a fire roasting a part of it to eat. They were astonished at seeing her, and concluded that she was hungry and had [smelled] the meat. They immediately went to her, taking with them a piece of the roasted venison. They presented it to her, she ate it, telling them to return to the spot where she was sitting at the end of one year, and they would find a reward for their kindness and generosity. She then ascended to the clouds and disappeared. The men returned to their village, and explained to the tribe what they had seen, done and heard, but were laughed at by their people. When the [time] had arrived for them to visit this consecrated ground, where they were to find a reward for their attention to the beautiful woman of the clouds, they went with a large party, and found where her right hand had rested on the ground corn growing, where the left hand had rested beans, and immediately where she had been seated, tobacco. The two first [plants] have ever since been cultivated by our people as our principal provisions, and the last is used for smoking. The white people have since found out the latter, and seem to relish it as much as we do, as they use it in different ways, namely: Smoking, snuffing and chewing. (LeClair and Patterson 1882:63–64) The next myth is from the American Northeast (Maine) and is of Penobscot (Penawahpskewi) origin. The Penobscot people spoke western Abenaki, an Algonquian language. Again the story’s main topic is the origin of corn, but tobacco is there too. There are several details in this myth that are similar to those in the two stories I recounted above. The myth cited below is part of the cycle that describes the wanderings of Klose-kur-beh (also written as Gluskape; see, e.g., Spence 1935), a cultural hero of the Penobscot: And here Klose-kur-beh began to make the stone implements for his people, because there had been a division; the people had divided themselves into clans. As soon as the news of the return of Klose-kur-beh reached the ears of the first mother of the people, she became very much agitated and her action gave much alarm; nothing seemed to give her relief, and she showed a discontented mind day after day. She was yet fair, and it seemed that

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in all those years, which were many, since she became the mother of the first child, her age had not changed; she looked much younger than many of her offspring, and the husband retained his age equally as well. Both being yet young, the love that existed between them was great; so when the man saw his wife in such a discontented state it grieved him much. He used every means to find out what brought such a discontent to his wife, but all his efforts failed. He loved his wife so much he thought it was out of place to ask her any questions so [he decided] to wait for further developments. But his waiting was all in vain; instead of the contentment he had hoped for, the discontentment was on the increase and had got to such a stage that the wife absented herself from his presence as the sun neared the noon line each day, and remained away until the shadows would be far toward the rising sun. Finally, it had such an effect upon his mind that he lost all control over his patience, which soon reduced his manhood to such an extent that the sense of honor left him, and he determined to watch his wife. By careful watching for a long time he discovered the direction she took in going and would return the same way. He resolved to make further discoveries, so one day just before the time came for her return, he went and hid himself near a river at a point where he could scan its banks for a long distance. His patient waiting was rewarded at last by seeing her coming to the opposite bank, cheerfully singing as she entered to ford the river. While her feet were in the water she seemed to be in a very happy mood, there was brightness in her countenance, and he beheld something trailing behind her right foot, which appeared like a long green blade. Upon reaching the shore she stooped down and with her right hand picked off the trail[ing blade], cast it into the water and the thing floated away. As soon as she had cast the blade from her, the same downcast look spread over her fair brow and with that look she went her way towards home. Soon after the woman had gone, the man came out from his hiding place and immediately began to search for the trail[ing blade] that had been cast into the water, which he readily found lodged among the rocks below. Upon examining the thing it proved to be a long green blade of some strange plant, the like of which he had never seen before. While thus holding the blade in his hands a sense of honor returned to him and immediately he put the blade into the water and only gazed upon it while it floated away. On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant 27

Honor and patience having returned unto him he was ready to undergo any and every thing if only he could get the woman to tell him what would bring happiness to her. He resolved to gain her confidence by love, although this had failed in times past, but he made up his mind to try it again, and in that frame of mind he went his way, following his wife. Upon reaching home he found the woman [with] the same downcast look. When the sun was going down he called her to come forth to see the beautiful sun, she obeyed and came forth; side by side they stood gazing upon the sun that was going down. Immediately seven little children came and stood in front of them looking into the woman’s face, saying, “We are in hunger and the night will soon come; where is the food?” Upon hearing this, water came from the woman’s eyes, seven drops came and dropped upon the earth. The man reached forth his right hand and wiped away the tears from the woman’s brow. It moved him so much that his hand shook, seeing this, the woman said to the little ones, “Hold your peace, little ones, in seven moons you shall be filled and shall hunger no more.” With glad hearts the children departed and were seen no more. On seeing this the strong man’s heart was moved and immediately he asked his wife if she would tell him what he could do to make her happy. She answered and said that if he would show love to her that would last while the world stands she would then be happy, not only would she be happy but the whole world [would] be happy. The man answered that he had shown all the love that was in him and if she knew any more love that he could show to tell him, and he would show it in a manner to please her. She answered that she wanted him to show such a love that all the people might also love her, and that she wanted a love that would last always. The man then said, if it is in my power to bring this about it shall be done. This answer brought brightness to her brow, then turning to the man and casting her eyes fully upon his, [she] said with happiness, “My eyes can meet yours, and before the sun goes down seven times, it must then be the beginning of happiness the world over; and man, if you are ready to hear my request and if you are ready to grant it, I will now make it known.” The man answered as before, saying, “If it is in my power your request shall be granted.” Then the woman turned her pleading eyes to him, saying, “Take the stone implement, [and] with it slay me unto death,” and the man said, “This is beyond my power, and further it is only the beast that 28

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slays mankind, but before the sun goes down seven times I shall answer you.” And before the sun arose the man was on his way to the north land to consult Klose-kur-beh upon the matter, and when the sun was rising on the seventh day he returned. Klose-kur-beh had told him that her request must be granted, because she came to the world for good, and that none could be realized until she had fulfilled her mission. When this was made known to her, her joy was great, and she gave directions as to what should be done. She told the man [that] after he had slain her, to get twisted branches of the small trees and tie the branches around her neck and drag her body to a large open space of land and to drag it all over the open space, and when the flesh was worn away to the bones turn it and wear away the other side, and after he had dragged her body all over the land to bury her bones in the middle of it and then come away, and in seven moons to go and gather all he found on the land, “gather and eat, but not all of it,” save some to put in the land again. “Let seven moons pass before you put my flesh in the ground again; put it under the ground so the birds will not devour it. My bones you cannot eat, but you can burn it, and it will bring peace to you and unto your children.” On the morrow when the sun was rising the man did slay the woman and he dragged her body over a large open land and did bury her bones in the center of it as directed. The man did not visit the place until after the seven moons had passed, but others went before the time came and brought from the land long green blades of the plant, which the man recognized as the same kind of blade that he saw trailing behind the woman’s feet when fording the river. When the seven moons had passed the man went to the place where his wife’s bones lay and when he came to the place he beheld the place filled with tall plants but not green because the sun had faded them to a yellow shade, and upon examining the stock found substance in them which he tasted and it was sweet, and he called it “Skar-moo-nal,” Corn, and upon reaching the place where the bones lay he found a plant, large, with broad leaves, without substance; because it was bitter in taste he called it “Ootar-Mur-wa-yeh,” Tobacco. Upon his return to the people [he] made known what he had found [and] there was great rejoicing among them and all went to help the man in the harvest; all the corn and tobacco were properly taken care of. And here corn and tobacco raising began. (Nicolas 1893:57–62) On the Origin of the Tobacco Plant 2 9

What all three myths make clear is that the origin of tobacco is associated with important future foodstuffs and cultigens: calabash among the Pipiles in El Salvador; corn and beans among the Sauk; and corn among the Penobscot. When tobacco came into existence, it involved a specific transformation derived from a (sacrificed) anthropomorphic being, in all three cases a woman. REFERENCES CITED Hartman, Carl Vilhelm 1901 Etnografiska undersökninger öfver aztekerna i Salvador. Ymer 3:277–324. 1906 Die Baumkalebasse im Tropischen Amerika: Ein Beitrag zur Ethnobotanik. In Boas Anniversary Volume: Anthropological Papers Written in Honor of Franz Boas, ed. Berthold Laufer, 196–207. New York: G. E. Stechert. 1907 Mythology of the Aztecs of Salvador. Journal of American Folklore 20(77):143–47. 1910 Le calebassier de l’Amérique tropicale: Études d’ethnobotanique. Journal de la Société des Américanistes de Paris 7(1):131–43. 2001 Reconocimiento etnográfico de los aztecas de El Salvador. Mesoamérica 41:146–91. Spanish translation of Hartman 1901 by Claudia García. LeClair, Antoine, and John Barton Patterson 1882 [1833] Autobiography of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak, or Black Hawk, Embracing the Traditions of His Nation, Various Wars in Which He Has Been Engaged, and His Account of the Cause and General History of the Black Hawk War of 1832, His Surrender, and Travels through the United States, Dictated by Himself. Also Life, Death and Burial of the Old Chief, Together with a History of the Black Hawk War, by J. B. Patterson. St. Louis, MO: Continental Printing. Nicolas, Joseph 1893 The Life and Traditions of the Red Men. Bangor, ME: C. E. Glass. Spence, Frank G. 1935 Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs. Journal of American Folklore 48(187): 1–107.

NOTES 1. The roe is not endemic to Central America. The roe (or roe deer) of Eurasian origin is known for its short white tail, and Hartman seems to reference the common white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) of Central America (specifically a subspecies known as Odocoileus virginianus nemoralis). In the French translation

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the word biche, “roe, hind, deer,” is used (Hartman 1910:142). Although this is just a guess, most probably the original Pipil word used in the myth was masat (< masatl), “deer.” 2. The calabash tree, here named huachkal quahuit in Pipil, is Crescentia cujete L. 3. “Until quite recently it was the custom amongst the Indians in Nahuizalco, and perhaps still is in some cases, that when an infant died the mother deposited with it in the grave a bamboo joint with milk from her own breast” (Hartman 1907:146n1). 4. “Yetl is the Aztec name for the tobacco plant; in the Pipil or Aztec dialect of Salvador yet” (Hartman 1907:146n2). See Molina 1571:2:fol. 81v, col.1, line 32: “Picietl. yerua como veleño, que es medicinal.” In (colonial) Spanish beleño identifies a plant belonging to the Solanaceae (nightshades), to which tobacco indeed belongs.

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CHAPTER THREE

The Intoxicating Lady Tobacco and the Nature of the Moon Goddess MARTIN PICKANDS

Among the traditional tales told by the Mopan and K’ekchi’ Maya of southern Belize, there is a cycle of stories that describes the adventures of the young Sun (K’in) and his brother, Venus (Xulab). These myths tell of the latter’s failed marriage, Sun’s elopement with Moon, the creation of sex, the transformation of the pregnant Moon into the mother of the bees, Moon’s subsequent dalliances with Xulab and the King of the Vultures, and the ascension of Sun, Moon, and Venus into the sky. The symbolism presented in these tales pervades many aspects of social behavior and establishes a pattern for female roles in Mayan society based on Moon as the first “human” woman. Analysis of this narrative casts new light on the antiquity of these folktales and their inspiration of many aspects of Mayan symbolic life. In this chapter, I demonstrate that specific elements in these stories may be depicted in Classic period art and persist in traditional ceramic art even today and that our present understanding of Mayan symbolic illustration and iconography may not be fully capturing their complexity and layers of expression. We have long recognized that the protagonist or antagonist of a myth may be portrayed as an explicit representation of that character or as the representation of their specific co-essences (plant, animal, way [spirit being], or even pars pro toto). We have not fully appreciated that these aspects, or their formal representations, may embody qualities and story lines that come from specific tales and myths, such as the one discussed here. When an actor or an aspect of that actor is incorporated into a seemingly unrelated scene (where they do not immediately seem to fit), this may be intended as a reference to a specific aspect or element of that character. For instance, a depiction of the Moon goddess or some aspect of the Moon goddess may refer to one or many of the

following: woman, pregnancy, mother, wife, the moon, the mother of rabbits or bees, she who produces beverages, the spinner and weaver, and so on. Each of these aspects would have been understood and recognized by members of the culture or region as referring to an event or interaction with its own familiar story—a story of which we, as cultural outsiders, may not even be aware. The people in the original culture were constantly made conscious of other stories in which the character figured and other aspects of their identity, thus almost telling a story within a story within yet another story. The best-known version of this cycle of related stories is recounted by Sir Eric Thompson (1930, 1939, 1990), and other versions have been published by various authors (e.g., Dieseldorff 1926; Furbee 1980; Gordon 1915; Shaw 1971), many of which are discussed at length by Karen Bassie-Sweet (2008) and exhaustively examined and compared to similar tales in neighboring Mayan and non-Mayan communities by Edwin Braakhuis (2010). While Braakhuis treats these tales as an essentially highland Mayan tradition, there is evidence that they were once commonly known in the lowlands as well. In oral tradition, myths tend to vary considerably from place to place, time to time, and teller to teller. They have even been known to vary when told by the same teller to different audiences and at different stages of their own life experience (see Burns 1983; Gossen 1974, 2002; Laughlin 1977). Different areas or towns may have local versions of important myths tailored to their own regional history and cultural experience or even to the political aspirations of local government. As an example, the Thompson (1939) version stresses Moon as the mother of the bees, while Braakhuis (2010) points out that Moon is the patroness of many of the most important aspects of Mesoamerican life. This is especially true for known variations on the Hummingbird story, which can under different circumstances depict Moon not only as the first mother of humans, but also as the mother of game, the mother of maize, the mother of disease, and the mother of medicine and poison (which includes magic both curative and destructive). Various aspects of the symbolism clearly woven into these tales, as Braakhuis has noted, relate to the creation of menstruation, vermin, and by implication, disease, sorcery, and curing. I focus here on the version of the Hummingbird tale that depicts Moon as the mother of tobacco, which is conceived as the original medicine and intoxicant. With her transformation via the intoxication of sex, she becomes honey, and with the intoxication of honey’s sweetness, she becomes balche. Balche

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was once an important ritual beverage among several lowland Maya groups. This intoxicating beverage is still used in religious rituals by the Lacandones to bridge the gap between humans and gods. Similar religious consumption practices are also noted among some communities of the Yucatec Maya although to a lesser degree. In these cases, Moon is the mother of intoxication whether by sweetness, sexuality, sorcery, alcohol, or tobacco. At first glance, the subject of tobacco seems to play a very minor role in the story of Hummingbird, but the identities of X’T’actani and her father mark their roles in this tale as intrinsically tied to tobacco consumption and belief. They are woven into tobacco and lunar symbolism in Classic period ceramic art and certain vessel forms (both modern and ancient), and they are also manifested in the symbolic use of a dried hummingbird as a love charm and as a symbol of courtship. The Thompson account (1930:122–32; 1970:363–65) concerns the elopement of K’in (Sun) with the maiden X’T’actani (in some versions called ‘Uh or Po, meaning “Moon”). Her father is a powerful sorcerer by the name of T’actani, whom Braakhuis (2010:35) associates with the Cakchiquel word matactani meaning “the surface of the earth.” In other words, T’actani is the Earth Lord. On one level, the name X’T’actani appears simply to refer to the fact that she is his daughter, a female (’ixik) manifestation of himself. However, it may have etymological associations in Yucatec, a lowland Mayan language closely related to Mopan, one of the languages in which Thompson heard this tale. This suggests that the name may have originally been of lowland derivation and spread to the highlands from there. In fact, Thompson points out that many of the K’ekchi’ speakers in Belize were descended from the Mopan, Itza, or Ch’ol, all of whom speak lowland Mayan languages more closely related to Yucatec Maya than to K’ekchi’ (a highland language). It is entirely possible that Mayan groups migrating from the lowlands to the highlands at the end of the Classic period, like the founders of the royal lineages of Quiché, brought with them lowland traditions and stories but eventually adopted the local highland language. Although many variants of this tale exist, I have paraphrased Thompson’s (1930:126–29) composite retelling of the elopement episode because it was collected from informants who either spoke or were descended from people who spoke the lowland Mayan languages Mopan, Itza, and Ch’ol, and because his version agrees well with published indigenous texts. Even though it may be told primarily by K’ekchi’ speakers today, this story may be the only extant version that can reasonably be associated with lowland Maya groups:

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Lord K’in (Sun) spies the girl X’T’actani weaving in the courtyard of her house and determines to have her. At first, he tries to impress her with his hunting prowess, carrying the carcass of a deer by the place where she lives. Then, stuffing the skin with dry grass and ashes, he pretends to carry another “deer” past her house every day. Impressed by his apparent hunting skill, she comments on it to her father, who is a powerful sorcerer. Suspecting a trick, her father induces her to take some nixtamal (limewater from soaking maize kernels for grinding) and throw it on the path where K’in passes each day. K’in slips on it and falls, and the animal skin bursts open, revealing his hoax. He runs away in shame. Still desiring the maiden, K’in borrows the skin of Hummingbird and transforms himself with it. X’T’actani sees the “hummingbird” sucking the nectar of the flowers of a tobacco plant, which has grown from the mixture of limewater and the ashes of the “deer” stuffing. (Bassie-Sweet 2008:182 mentions that some versions of the tale say that the “deer” stuffing contained tobacco seeds.) Desiring to have the handsome little bird, she asks her father to shoot it with his blowgun. He does so. Dropping her weaving to the ground, the girl picks the bird up and revives him with maize and cacao. She takes him to her bedroom, innermost of 13 rooms, where he resumes his human form and tries to persuade her to elope with him. At first she refuses, saying that her father has a sastun (scrying crystal) with which he can see them anywhere, and a magic blowgun with which, by sucking on it, he can draw anything to him. K’in blackens the crystal with ashes and puts chili powder in the blowgun. X’T’actani puts her saliva in a cup and, leaving it in her room, flees with K’in. That night her father, sensing something wrong, calls to her, asking if she is all right. The saliva answers him in X’T’actani’s voice and, reassured, he goes back to sleep. The old man, finding his daughter missing the following morning, looks for her in the sastun but finds it blackened. Finally finding a clear spot on the stone that K’in had missed, he sees them escaping in a canoe. Raising his blowgun, he attempts to draw them back but chokes on the chili pepper. In a rage, he calls upon his uncle Chaac, the god of rain and storm, to strike them dead with lightning. Chaac does not wish to do so because the old man is senseless with anger, and Chaac believes that he will later The Intoxicating Lady 35

regret this act, but the old man eventually persuades him. Dressing in his black clothes and taking his drum and ax, Chaac sets forth. Seeing Chaac approaching, K’in turns the girl into a crab and himself into a turtle, and they dive into the water. The lightning strikes, however, and blows X’T’actani to bits. Rising to the surface, K’in finds the water stained with her blood. First, he implores the fishes to aid him, but they only eat her flesh and drink the blood. He then asks the dragonflies to help, and together they place the remains in 13 jars (hollow logs in some versions), which are then left with an old woman for 13 days. K’in promises to return for them. The old woman later begs K’in to take the jars away because they are making buzzing, humming, and creaking sounds that frighten her. He opens them one by one, finding all manner of snakes and stinging insects in them, until in the last one he finds his bride, now very tiny. He sends a man to throw the other jars (or logs) into the sea, but the man’s curiosity causes him to open them, releasing all the vermin into the world. An episode concerning the invention of sex follows, and X’T’actani becomes the mother of stingless bees. The existence of both a goddess and a god of bees and balche is also explained by this myth. As Moon, called Xunan Cab in Yucatán today, is the mother of honey and bees and therefore of balche, K’in is the father. Bol is apparently his epithet as god of the bees. Braakhuis (2010:131) mentions the Hummingbird Dance associated with this story, which is performed in Chajul, Guatemala. This dance appears to have been widespread in antiquity and seems to be depicted in two paintings on Classic Maya cylinder vases (figures 3.1, 3.2). Further evidence of the tale’s distribution can be seen in the parallels between the events in the myth and Yucatec Mayan beliefs about balche, as well as the steps of brewing and consuming balche practiced today by the Lacandon Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. In the story, the origin of balche begins with X’T’actani leaving her saliva in a “cup” (probably a gourd bowl) so that it can speak with her voice to reassure her father when he calls out to her. According to Tim Knab (pers. comm., 1987), one modern Yucatecan nickname of balche is “the spit that speaks.” This nickname also calls to mind the scene from the Quiché epic Popol Vuh (D. Tedlock 1996) in which Xk’iq (Moon Woman or Blood Girl) is impregnated by spit from the skull of Hun Hunahpu. The spit

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F I G UR E 3.1  A Hummingbird Dance depicted on a Late Classic vase (K1549). K’in, identified by a glyphic caption, wears a hummingbird mask with a domed forehead and a phallic beak with which he touches the hand of a figure dressed as a young woman. The fan may have been used to imitate the fluttering motions of the bird. Rollout photo from the Maya Vase Database (www.mayavase.com), courtesy of Justin Kerr.

F I G UR E 3. 2  A second example of

what appears to be a Hummingbird Dance (K3463). While the male protagonist is not wearing the phallic hummingbird mask, he holds a fan. The female protagonist holds a hummingbird to the flower in her headdress. The woven-looking pattern of her dress and back fan are the same as in figure 3.1, as are the musical instruments. Rollout photo from the Maya Vase Database (www.mayavase.com), courtesy of Justin Kerr.

is followed by a speech from the skull, which has become the first gourd: the vessel from which beverages such as balche are consumed. Parallels to the production of balche continue with the destruction of X’T’actani by a lightning strike while she is escaping with K’in in a canoe. The production of balche by the Lacandones (Tozzer 1907; Boremanse 1981; McGee 1990) begins with mixing honey and the bark of the balche tree in a dugout canoe made especially for the purpose. The bark is pounded into pieces with a long wooden pestle, which may symbolize the smashing of X’T’actani by the lightning bolt while she was escaping in the canoe. The Lacandones ferment the balche in the specially made canoe, while according to the story, fermentation was said to take place in 13 jars or hollow logs. The jars likely refer to large ollas once commonly used for this process, while the hollow logs may be a reference to the hollow log beehives used in Yucatán. The choice of jars or hollow logs may simply reflect two variations of the tale in which one version is more concerned with the production of honey (by bees in hollow logs) than with the production of balche (in jars). The number of jars is significant. Throughout this tale the number 13 is linked to X’T’actani, and the Maya generally associated it with the moon. The esoteric meaning of this number is not well understood, but it is an appropriate number to be associated with the moon if only because there are 13 lunations in a solar year. The fermentation jars are kept by an old woman, who pleads with K’in to take them away because the buzzing sounds made by the insects and other creatures trapped in them frighten her. This aspect of the story is reflected in the incantation spoken by the Lacandon brewer of the balche to help it ferment (Boremanse 1981). The person in charge of the fermentation process takes the role of Bor or Bol (the Lacandon god of balche). In his incantation, Bol calls out to many different entities to come into the mixture to help it ferment. These entities include several varieties of chili pepper, venomous snakes, wasps, other insects, and numerous water creatures. The chilies are to give heat to the mixture, to “cook” it. The venomous snakes and stinging insects are to add their “bite” to the brew. The myriad water creatures, from caimans to frogs, are to cause it to bubble and seethe. The venomous entities are the same creatures that caused the buzzing in the jars, according to Thompson’s version of the tale. Rätsch (1985) suggests that live wasps have also been used during the fermentation process. Thomas Gage’s (1958:255) description of an undoubtedly more potent version of balche includes the addition of tobacco and other psychoactive herbs, as well as a live toad: “They include in the brew the roots and leaves 38

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of tobacco and roots of other plants which grow there and which they know to be strong in operation. Nay, to my knowledge, in some places they have put in a live toad, and closed up the jar for a fortnight or a month, till all they have put in be thoroughly steeped, the toad consumed and the drink well strengthened.” Braakhuis (2010) cites Guiteras-Holmes and colleagues (1992), who describe the pounding of leaves and lime in a wooden canoe or trough as a way of making the tobacco snuff called pílico or mahy and notes that in K’ekchi’ mahy means not only “tobacco” but also “pain” and “poison.” He then cites a variant of the tale published by Cruz Torres (1965) in which tobacco is mashed in a canoe full of water. Instead of ordering the venomous creatures to be cast into the sea (as in the Thompson version), the hero places them in the mixture to absorb their poison (mahy) from the tobacco (mahy), giving the venomous creatures their means of defending themselves (Braakhuis 2010:199–200). This reenactment then extends from the brewing of the beverage to the drinking ritual itself. McGee (1987, 1990) discusses a Lacandon song called “The Liar’s Song” or “Little Wife,” also called ’u K’ayil ti Box (Song to the Gourd). It is sung as a means of preventing vomiting when one is drunk from balche. Translated by Bruce (1976:39), the wording is as follows: Once again I have wanted you, oh little woman! One of your measures. Do not leave me, oh little woman. Once again I have seen you, little woman. Like ripe custard apples are those breasts of yours, oh little woman. Full blown is your beauty. One of your measures, Little woman! Once again I have wanted you Not to leave you, Oh little woman. I feel completely undone little woman. Do not leave me, little woman. The Intoxicating Lady 39

My mind clears well little woman. Do not leave me, little woman. Embrace me well, little woman. Once again I have wanted you. Do not leave me, little woman. Your breasts are custard apples. One of your measures, Little woman. Call me well, little woman. My mind has cleared now, little woman. Do not cast me down, oh little woman! One of your measures. Once again I have wanted you. Ripe custard apples are those breasts of yours, Little woman. I embrace you tightly, oh little woman. Oh, I will not leave you, little woman. “Little woman,” according to Lacandon informants, is a reference to the balche, and the “embracing” appears to refer to the singer’s desire to remain firmly united with her so that he will continue to remain intoxicated and not vomit and thus lose the effect. The term “little woman” also appears to reflect the fact that, according to the story, the result of the fermentation was the creation of a “little wife.” The song contains clear sexual overtones, reminding us that the episode immediately following this tale is about the invention of sex. As the hummingbird in the story drank the nectar from the tobacco flower (X’T’actani’s vegetal co-essence) as a sexual metaphor prefiguring their elopement, the participant drinks her in the ritual, becoming intoxicated with her as he does so. To some degree this explains why only men participate. It is they, living the example of their ancestor K’in, who become intoxicated with her in the form of balche. To further the case for this tale having been widespread in the lowlands, 40

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I turn to The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel (Roys 1967), written by the Maya using Spanish characters in early colonial Yucatán. In that work, a sequence of riddles is presented, said to be a test for the fitness of a candidate for high office (presumably to ensure the candidate’s knowledge of the lore and symbolism necessary to perform the required rites for that office). One particular series of riddles essentially enacts a scene that, although absent from the Thompson version of the myth, is present in other tellings of the story, including the version that gave rise to the Hummingbird Dance (Braakhuis 2010:131, 198, 222). The candidate appears to play the role of a son-in-law returning to plead with his father-in-law for forgiveness and recognition as a legitimate son. He brings the remains of his deceased wife so that they may “weep together” (the text explains that this is a metaphor for getting drunk). The interrogating lord (in the role of the father-in-law) asks for various parts of his daughter in riddles related to the making of balche: “Then, [my] son, go bring me the green blood of my daughter, also her head, her entrails, her thigh, and her arm; also that which I told you to enclose in an unused jar, as well as the green stool of my daughter. Show them to me. It is my desire to see them. I have commissioned you to set them before me, that I may burst into weeping.” “So be it, father.” He [is to] come with the left ear of a wild bee. Then let him go. This is the green blood of his daughter for which he asks: it is Maya wine. These are the entrails of his daughter: it is an empty bee-hive. This is his daughter’s head: it is an unused jar for steeping wine. This is what his daughter’s green stool is: it is the stone pestle for [pounding] honey. This is what the left ear of a wild bee is: it is [a drop of] the moisture of the wine. This is what the bone of his daughter is: it is the flexible bark of the balche. This is the thigh of which he speaks: it is the trunk of the balche tree. This is what the arm of his daughter is: it is the branch of the balche. This is what he calls weeping: it is a drunken speech. Then let him go and give these [things] to him. Let him seat himself tranquilly; let him wait for him to speak; let him salute him as his lord when he arrives. “Father, here is your daughter whom you put in my care, of whom you speak. You are the father. You are the ruler.” This is what his son says to him. “Oh, son, my fellow head-chief, my fellow ruler! You have remembered; it is sufficient. You know; it is sufficient,” he says. “This, then, is The Intoxicating Lady 41

the blood of my daughter for which I ask you.” Thirteen times the blood of the daughter flows while he weeps for his daughter, lying there in the courtyard. Perchance, then he weeps, while he looks at her, bowed down, while he says: “Oh, son!” he says while he weeps, “you are a head-chief. Oh, son, you are a ruler also. Oh, my fellow head-chief, I will deliver your mat and your throne and your authority to you, son; yours is the government, yours is the authority also, [my] son.” (Roys 1967:94–95) It appears from this text that some version of the tale of Sun and Moon, as the origin of balche, provided the details of the riddles. It also seems that this version included an episode of rapprochement with Moon’s father as the charter for a halach uinic (head chief) to rule with his “father-in-law’s” authority, the authority of the Earth Lord to rule a portion of the land. If so, the new head chief also held the responsibility for providing for the fertility of that land through his now-recognized marriage to the Earth Lord’s daughter. The story has made this union into a contract of “marriage” with ritual responsibilities. Ritual drinking ceremonies, like those practiced by the northern Lacandones, were once an important part of the duties of a ruler. Dennis Tedlock (2002) has convincingly argued that the interaction of Hun Hunahpu with Xk’iq (Moon Woman or Blood Girl) recounted in the Popol Vuh is the story of the first wedding, which informs both wedding customs and ritual obligations among the highland Quiché today. However, the myth discussed here appears to compete with that story in regard to the origin of the symbolism underlying these practices in some areas. The two myths appear different enough to raise questions about whether they are actually cognate, but they share so much in their structure and symbolism that they may be simply different regional variations of a single myth. T O B A C C O A S H E R N AT U R E

Groark (2010) and Thompson (1990) state that among the Tzotzil Maya, tobacco is said to belong to or to actually be Yahual Balamil (aka ‘Anhel), the Earth Lord himself, who lives alone in a cave with his virginal daughter, one of whose tasks is to spin cotton into the clouds that provide rain. One of the best-known motifs on Classic period Codex-style cylinder vases is the Snake Lady scene (figures 3.3, 3.4). This nickname is probably a misnomer since the gigantic snake that coils around her represents not her, but the

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way, or co-essence, of the old man who is shown emerging from its mouth and facing her, often fondling her in what appears to be a lascivious fashion. The other end of the snake is the serpent leg of God K, who most likely represents lightning (Staller and Stross 2013). In 10 of the 11 examples of this scene in the Kerr database (http://www .mayavase.com), the image shows a throne or draperies, which signifies that it takes place indoors. This interpretation accords well with the belief that Yahual Balamil, the source of rain and lightning, resides alone in his cave or “house” with his daughter. It is widely hypothesized that this being is Schellhas’s (1904) God L, who is best known from the Temple of the Cross at Palenque, where he is shown smoking tobacco. Although the old man in the Snake Lady scenes is not shown wearing God L’s characteristic Muan bird hat, on 6 of the 11 Snake lady vessels the old man wears a group of distinctive feathers reminiscent of that hat hanging as a pendant around his neck (figure 3.4). In other contexts, the old man is shown wearing a jaguar robe and ear or a robe patterned like an armadillo carapace (Kerr and Kerr 2005). Sometimes known as the Jaguar god of the underworld, he is a prime candidate for Moon’s father. His identity as Yahual Balamil, as Tobacco himself, is strongly attested by the common depiction of both God L and God K on Classic period molded tobacco flasks. In Classic Mayan hieroglyphic texts and images, the Jaguar god of the underworld is used as the head variant for the number 7 (the complement of 13 in a vigesimal counting system). Among his distinguishing characteristics is a twisted “cruller” loop over his nose, which sometimes extends as a rope-like element draped under his eyes. Twisting ropes of tobacco was once the traditional method of preparing tobacco for shipment in early North American trade (Michael Twist, pers. comm., 2016) and may well be derived from ancient practices. To this day, the loop in a “twist” of tobacco strongly resembles the god’s “cruller” loop. The Snake Lady appears to be associated with tobacco; in some cases her skirt has the distinctive pattern of a thick-veined tobacco leaf (LoughmillerCardinal, pers. comm., 2015). In general, the Snake Lady has exaggerated female features, and her sexuality is highlighted by the snake that surrounds her. She even appears to be pregnant in some of these scenes. The same old man who emerges from the snake’s mouth is shown in other scenes drunk. In the Snake Lady scenes he appears sexually interested in her, perhaps a reference to the sexual implications of intoxication. The Intoxicating Lady 43

F I G U R E 3. 3  Snake Lady scene (K6754). Overhead draperies and a throne indicate

that this scene is in a house. She wears a tobacco leaf dress, and dotted pompoms surround the serpent, possibly representing clouds or powder. This example has a glyphic label, as yet undeciphered. The bundle on the throne, which in some versions is shown with a second, different bundle, is unidentified. Rollout photo from the Maya Vase Database (www.mayavase.com), courtesy of Justin Kerr.

F I G U R E 3. 4  Another example of

the Snake Lady scene (K5862). The woman has pronounced breasts. Dotted swirls surround the way serpent and are repeated on her dress, possibly representing clouds or powder. The feather pendant identifies the old man as God L. He is holding a “male” tobacco gourd with a stopper. Rollout photo from the Maya Vase Database (www.mayavase.com), courtesy of Justin Kerr.

If these representations are depicting a father and daughter, namely Yahual Balamil and Moon, then this relationship is only understandable in the light of a story that is not common knowledge to cultural outsiders. This is certainly a common feature of Classic Mayan art, in which symbols representing mythic events and relationships require the observer to have specific cultural insight. To outsiders who lack this knowledge, they are reduced to opaque interactions. In any case, these images certainly suggest that he is intoxicated with her. Until Moon becomes the first mother (and, it would seem, even after) that seems to be her primary trait: intoxication. The story in a number of versions specifies that K’in appears in the guise of a hummingbird, drinking the nectar of a tobacco flower as a prefigurement of his pending elopement with X’T’actani. Hummingbird is one of K’in’s coessences (Hunt 1977), and in this story it is plainly stated that the hummingbird is, in fact, K’in, the male protagonist. The flowering tobacco plant represents X’T’actani; it is her co-essence. Researchers are aware that the gods themselves, most notably the Maize God, either can be represented by plant co-essences or their human figures can be those plants. There are also many images depicted in Mayan art of vegetal elements springing from figures. Among the best evidence for the existence of plant co-essences for humans are the ancestral figures carved on the sides of Janaab’ Pakal’s sarcophagus in the Temple of the Inscriptions at Palenque, where they are depicted sprouting from the ground as various species of plants. The idea that myths may be told about a human, a god, an aspect of a god, a human channeling or in the guise of a god, or any of the potential co-essences of that person or god may mean that an individual may be an actor in several stories, each addressing a different aspect of themselves. Perhaps this explains some of the incongruous aspects of interactions between characters seen in images that appear to differ visually from their known myths. They may actually be actors in a different story, but the details in the image refer to their action in known myths in order to identify them and show the relationships between the various stories. Further exploration and scholarship utilizing ethnographic and ethnohistoric documents will certainly reveal more to us. Groark’s (2010:8) Chamula Tzotzil informant describes the difference between the white-flowered and pink-flowered forms of Nicotiana tabacum. He states that the white-flowered variety is considered female and less powerful because it is white. Moon (also associated with Mother Mary of the Catholic tradition) is “our Mother in Heaven . . . [and] had her own tobacco back then,” The Intoxicating Lady 45

and she was the first to plant it (Groark 2010:8). The Moon goddess in Classic period depictions is often associated with tobacco by the pattern of her skirt (see, for example, K2772, at http://www.mayavase.com) or by her rabbit offsping or companion smoking (see K559, K796). Moon, as the daughter of Yahual Balamil, would be necessarily less powerful than her father, whether or not she is tobacco. If she, as well as her father, is tobacco, she may represent the alive or fresh plant whereas he would represent the processed, more powerful tobacco. Here, he and his co-essence or “younger brother” lightning or thunderbolt (God K) provide the heat that gives tobacco its power. In the story, this heat is replaced by Sun when Moon is taken out into the world, and therefore now tobacco must be processed by humans. The Snake Lady scene may be a visual metaphor for the making of snuff. Yahual Balamil adds heat to the fresh plant by the presence of his co-essence, lightning, in every image of the scene. In one particular case (figure 3.4), he is even holding a male tobacco gourd toward her. As Groark (2010:23) points out, in modern everyday use, the tobacco gourd symbolizes the hummingbird. Therefore, the gourd is filled with the Snake Lady’s fresh essence, as if he had been “eating” her or sucking her moisture, which can also be a metaphor for sex. It seems appropriate, then, to call it the first intoxicant. As the prototypical woman and originator of femaleness, Moon is intimately associated with women’s activities, including weaving, cooking, and pottery making (Tate 2000). Large ollas are associated with females, fermented beverages, and the fetching of water for use in the home. This is clearly shown in the Classic period images on cylinder vessels, where females prepare or provide beverages from large ollas. The image of an olla is also known as part of a woman’s title, which depicts an upturned vessel next to a female head (Thompson 1962:457, T nos. 1000, 1001). Significantly, in the Chumayel riddle sequence, Moon’s head is symbolized by “an unused jar for steeping wine.” The Lacandones also make use of such a jar during their burner renewal ceremony, not for fermenting the beverage as was once done, but only for serving it. This vessel typically has a face modeled on it similar to the one in figure 3.5 (top left) and is given the name Bol (see above and McGee 1990:45). Ollas such as these are known from archaeological contexts and are still occasionally seen, as the Mam Mayan cooking pot from Huehuetenango in figure 3.5 shows. That this face may represent Moon is supported by the phonetic sign for ’u, derived from an earlier form representing an entire olla, ’uch—often with eyes and a nose modeled on it (T686b, Thompson 1962:454) or in a more abstract form

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F I G UR E 3.5  (Top left) Mam Maya cooking pot from Huehuetenango, Guatemala (the lower half is blackened by cooking fires; note the small loop-handle nose; the dots around the rim may represent hair); (top right) Kakchiquel water jar from Santa Apolonia, near Tecpan in the Chimaltenango department of Guatemala (the nub sticking out resembles the everted navel of a very pregnant woman’s belly); (bottom left) jar resembling a tobacco seed pod; (bottom right) water jar decorated with a single generic flower.

clearly representing the flaring rim of an olla with eyes and nose (T1-3, T6-8; Thompson 1962:445; Loughmiller-Cardinal, pers. comm., 2015). A possible reading, typical of the Mayan love for wordplay, is suggested by entries in the Cordemex Dictionary (Barrera Vásquez 1980) for the various components making up the name X’T’actani, which could be interpreted to mean “she who is deflowered by means of a nose,” an apparent reference to The Intoxicating Lady 47

the hummingbird and flower scene in the story. Another entry suggests that X’T’actani can have a completely different—but equally appropriate—interpretation in Yucatec Maya: “she who is poured out by means of the nose.” Note that the nose on the cooking pot in figure 3.5 is a smaller third handle, perhaps used to tip the pot when pouring out its contents. The nose shown on some versions of the ‘u glyph (T-7) also sometimes appears to be grooved like this handle. Examples of several types of utilitarian olla may be found even today in Guatemala, although they are rapidly being replaced in daily use by modern cooking pots and plastic water jars. Some are for carrying or storing liquids, with a constricted neck and a flaring rim; others, like the one in figure 3.5, are neckless for cooking. Plain as they generally are, they retain their symbolic association with the moon and may sometimes have features relating them to lunar and tobacco symbolism. It is significant that these vessels can be used not only for transporting and storing water, but for cooking or for fermenting alcoholic beverages: all of these processes are traditional metaphors for pregnancy. The jars once produced in the town of Santa Apolonia, Guatemala, are spherical like the full moon, and while they have no face modeled on them, they do have a knob in the location where a nose would be on an olla with a modeled face (figure 3.5, top right), whose function is said to be to keep the olla from slipping down in the carrying net (James Godman, pers. comm., 2012). This knob also closely resembles the everted navel of a very pregnant woman, making the whole jar resemble a pregnant belly. Braakhuis (2010:294) notes that the finding of the empty jar on the riverbank, as happens in Thompson’s (1930) account of Moon running off to King Vulture, is symbolic of Moon having been abducted. He then mentions several variants of stories about Moon’s infidelity, specifically with Chaac and Cloud, and also stories about her relationship with her husband, Hummingbird/K’in, which attribute the falling of rain to the tears of these brokenhearted lovers. He adds, “The water jar becomes identified with the belly of the goddess who attracts the water” (Braakhuis (2010:293). He then cites Neuenswander (1981:146–47): “The K’iche’ Achís view the lunar crescent lying on its side (xotolik) as a jar letting out its water, symbolizing the rainy season. The full jar is seen as the Moon’s belly, pregnant with water: ‘In the dry season, her belly is already big. . . . There is rain in her belly. In the rainy season, her belly is flat, and the Mother is lying on her side.’” The connection with tobacco is ever-present as if it is yet one more feature 48

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of the moon that is always in mind. Just as lightning is frequently shown alongside God L, Moon’s vegetal co-essence is discernible in the shape and color of many traditional jars (figure 3.5, especially bottom left). As can be seen by comparison to the seed pods shown in Groark’s (this volume) tobacco illustrations, some of these jars resemble a ripe tobacco seed pod, either spherical like the pods of Nicotiana rustica or oval to tapered like those of Nicotiana tabacum, and are naturally of a similar range of shades of brown. It also may be significant that glazed water jars today are often decorated with some version of a single generic flower (figure 3.5, bottom right). The fact that it is not identifiable as a tobacco flower may not be significant, since the “flower” shown on the beaks of some hummingbird depictions in the ceramic paintings (K5975, K8008, http://www.mayavase.com) is either unidentifiable or simply the glyph for nich, the generic word for “flower.” The generic decorative flower on these jars may simply be the modern equivalent of nich. Likewise, the flower shown in the hummingbird-sucking-flower element on the headdresses of the lead characters in figure 3.1 and the female lead in figure 3.2 (as well as on the headdresses of the participants in many of the marriagenegotiating scenes depicted on ceramics) clearly reflects the Sun and Moon story but does not show what we would recognize as a tobacco flower. Perhaps it, too, is intended as a generic or idealized form of a flower. T H E L I G H T N I N G O R H E AT O F T H E F L O W E R

Stross (Staller and Stross 2013:149–50) points out that both Chaac and the Earth Lord (and their daughters) have serpent or lightning co-essences and can appear as snakes. On the Snake Lady pots, what we are seeing is the Earth Lord emerging/transforming (by shedding his reptilian skin) from his snake way, who is also God K/lightning. The Snake Lady is the Earth Lord’s nubile daughter who spins the puffy clouds, but in the role of tobacco she also can make puffy clouds when heat is added in the form of fire. As the daughter of Yahual Balamil, Moon must also possess lightning as a co-essence, but it expresses itself, in the basic Mesoamerican dyadic view of the world, in a female, dark, moist, internal way: as fertility, medicine, magic, poison, disease, and pain. Even birth is sometimes regarded as a “sickness” Neuenswander (1981:139). Types of co-essences are not unique to a single person but represent the spirit of a quality of a person. For instance, it is widely believed that a sorcerer or curer necessarily possesses a lightning co-essence. One sorcerer may use The Intoxicating Lady 49

his lightning to combat the lightning of another sorcerer. Lightning is the essence of power in the spirit realm and has the ability to bring one closer to the otherworld or even, in extreme cases, to leaving this one. As the originator of both disease and medicine, Moon must possess lightning as a co-essence, even if she were not the daughter of the Earth Lord. Among North American Native peoples, the power of lightning is attributed to anything that can strike suddenly with deadly or transformative effect. Raptorial birds, which strike suddenly and with deadly effect, possess the characteristic so strongly that dried eagle or hawk talons are used in curing rituals to seize and draw out disease. Predatory animals that strike suddenly and often from darkness, like the panther or jaguar, possess lightning, as do weapons such as arrows, spears, and ball-lightning-shaped war clubs. This clearly is similar to the Mesoamerican perception. It is the less overt or less physical manifestations of this power that seem to be the provenance of Moon; apparently nonphysical agencies such as poison, sickness, witchcraft, and its counterparts curing and countersorcery are also manifestations of the power of lightning. Among Mayan peoples, lightning often calls the individual to be a healer or magic practitioner. This may happen to an individual who survives a lightning strike directly or in a dream or visionary state, or to someone who is called by the dwarf helper of an Earth Lord, such as Saqi Coxol, the red dwarf lightning of the Quiché Maya (B. Tedlock 1992:147). Lightning is the power of the otherworld manifesting in the world of humans. It can open one to visions through dreams and divination, like the coyopa (sheet lightning) that is said to be “in the blood” of a Quiché daykeeper (calendar priest and diviner) and that “jumps” in various parts of the body to predict coming events and to answer questions. Anything that produces an altered state of consciousness has lightning as part of its essence: tobacco, alcohol, mushrooms, toads and frogs, drumming, and so on. The power of lightning is duality and balance. It can be both constructive and destructive, defensive and aggressive, life giving and sickening (or deadly). Lightning has both female (of the house and hearth) and male (of the field and village) aspects, and therefore priests, diviners, and curers wielding these qualities are addressed as Mother-Father. In its balance, lightning is neither good nor evil, but raw power—and power, like Moon, is seductive.1

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REFERENCES CITED Barrera Vásquez, Alfredo, ed. 1980 Diccionario Maya cordemex. Merida, Yucatán, Mexico: Ediciones Cordemex. Bassie-Sweet, Karen 2008 Maya Sacred Geography and the Creator Deities. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Boremanse, Didier 1981 Una forma de clasificacion simbolica: Encantamientos al balche’ entre los Lacandones. Journal of Latin American Lore 7(2):191–214. Braakhuis, H. E. M. 2010 Xbalanque’s Marriage: A Commentary on the Q’eqchi’ Myth of Sun and Moon. PhD dissertation, University of Leiden. https://openaccess. leidenuniv.nl/bitstream/1887/16064/1/BRAAKHUIS+XBALANQUE’S +MARRIAGE.pdf. Bruce, Robert D. 1976 Lacandon Texts and Drawings from Naja. Mexico City: Department of Linguistics, Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Burns, A. F. 1983 An Epoch of Miracles: Oral Literature of the Yucatec Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Cruz Torres, Mario E. de la 1965 Rubelpec: Cuentos y leyendas de Senahú. 2nd ed. Guatemala: Pineda Ibarra. Dieseldorff, E. P. 1926 Kunst und Religion der Mayavölker im alten und heutigen Mittelamerika. Berlin. Furbee, Louanna 1980 Mayan Texts. Vol. 3. Chicago, IL: International Journal of American Linguistics. Gage, T. 1958 Thomas Gage’s Travels in the New World. Edited by J. E. S. Thompson. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Gordon, G. B. 1915 Guatemala Myths. Museum Journal 6:103–44. Gossen, Gary H. 1974 Chamulas in the World of the Sun: Time and Space in a Maya Oral Tradition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Gossen, Gary H., trans. and ed. 2002 Four Creations: An Epic Story of the Chiapas Mayas. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

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Groark, Kevin P. 2010 The Angel in the Gourd: Ritual, Therapeutic, and Protective Uses of Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum) among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. Journal of Ethnobiology 30(1):5–30. Guiteras-Holmes, C., V. M. Esponda Jimeno, and E. M. Chapoy Liceaga, eds. 1992 Cancuc: Etnografía de un pueblo Tzeltal de los altos de Chiapas, 1944. Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Mexico: Instituto Chiapaneco de Cultura. Hunt, Eva 1977 The Transformation of the Hummingbird: Cultural Roots of a Zinacantecan Ritual Poem. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Kerr, Barbara, and Justin Kerr 2005 The Way of God L: The Princeton Vase Revisited. Record of the Princeton Art Museum 64:n.p. http://www.mayavase.com/godl.pdf. Laughlin, R. M. 1977 Of Cabbages and Kings: Tales from Zinacantan. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. McGee, R. Jon 1987 Metaphorical Substitution in a Lacandon Maya Ritual Song. Anthropological Linguistics 29(1):105–18. 1990 Life, Ritual and Religion among the Lacandon Maya. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Neuenswander, H. 1981 Vestiges of Early Maya Time Concepts in a Contemporary Maya (Cubulco Achi) Community: Implications for Epigraphy. Estudios de Cultura Maya 13:125–63. Rätsch, C. 1985 Bilder aus der unsichtbaren Welt: Zaubersprüche und Naturbeschreibung bei den Maya und den Lakandonen. München, Germany: Kindler. Roys, R. L. 1967 The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Schellhas, P. 1904 Representations of Deities of the Maya Manuscripts. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University. Shaw, Mary 1971 According to Our Ancestors. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Staller, John E., and Brian Stross 2013 Lightning in the Andes and Mesoamerica. New York: Oxford University Press. Tate, C. E. 2000 Painting on the Face of the Moon: Women as Potters, Men as Painters in Classic Maya Civilization. In The Maya Vase Book, vol. 6, ed. Justin Kerr, 1056–71. New York: Kerr Associates.

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Tedlock, B. 1992 Time and the Highland Maya. Rev. ed. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Tedlock, D. 1996 Popol Vuh. New York: Simon and Schuster. 2002 How to Drink Chocolate from a Skull at a Wedding Banquet. Res 42:166– 79. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1930 Ethnology of the Mayas of Southern and Central British Honduras. Chicago: Field Museum of Natural History. 1939 The Moon Goddess in Middle America, with Notes on Related Deities. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. 1962 A Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 1970 Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Tozzer, Alfred M. 1907 A Comparative Study of the Mayas and Lacandones. New York: Macmillan.

NOTE 1. I would add a personal anecdote that suggests the survival of the tale of X’T’actani (or, at least, the name) in modern Yucatán. In 1981, I struck up a conversation with a Yucatecan mechanic who was admiring my battered Volvo. He asked about my family, and when I told him I had a daughter named Tani (short for Tanith), he became very excited. He told me his daughter’s name was Tani too and that it is a very popular girl’s name in Yucatán.

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CHAPTER FOUR

“Elder Brother Tobacco” Traditional Nicotiana Snuff Use among the Contemporary Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Highland Chiapas, Mexico K E V I N P. G R O A R K

Among the ancient Maya, Nicotiana was viewed as a sacred plant, closely associated with deities of earth and sky, and used for both visionary and therapeutic ends. The contemporary Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Highland Chiapas are heirs to this ancient ethnobotanical tradition of tobacco use and folklore. In Maya communities throughout the highlands, the tobacco plant is viewed as a primordial medicine and a powerful botanical “helper” or “protector” with uses both mundane and divine. Whole leaves are boiled, wilted, mashed, and bruised to prepare medicinal plasters and teas. Fresh leaves are mixed with slaked limestone and pounded into a green mash, yielding a potent oral snuff that serves as a medicine, a stimulant, an intoxicant, and a protective agent. This tobacco-lime snuff preparation—referred to in Tzotzil as “angel” (anjel), “elder brother” (bankilal), “great old man” (muk’ta mol), or simply “tobacco” (moy)—forms the prototypical referent for highland Maya thinking about tobacco. Stored and carried in small, highly polished gourds, this tobacco snuff is part of an unbroken tradition of Maya tobacco use spanning thousands of years. In the pages that follow, I present a comprehensive ethnographic overview of contemporary highland Maya tobacco culture, exploring the therapeutic, protective, and ritual uses of Nicotiana tabacum in both Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya communities.1

E T H N O B O TA N I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N

Nicotiana tabacum, referred to colloquially as tobacco, has been well described in the botanical literature (Goodspeed 1954:372–75; see also Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242).2 Based on genetic and distributional data, Nicotiana appears to have spread to the central Mexican highlands from its origin in Andean South America (Goodspeed 1954:8; Wilbert 1987:2). Cultivated and semi-cultivated forms are commonly raised by horticulturalists throughout southern Mexico, who use the plant for medicinal and recreational purposes. In the Chiapas highlands, Nicotiana plants are not intentionally cultivated; rather, they grow wild in disturbed soil in house gardens, in corrals, and along trails. Although tobacco is locally classified as a wild plant, seedlings are often collected and transplanted to house gardens, suggesting that tobacco might best be considered a semi-cultivar in this region (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242). Prohibitions exist against cutting down the plants; should people destroy a tobacco plant, some say that invisible stinging caterpillars will attack them while working in their field, resulting in wounds that heal only after the offenders ingest a mashed green tobacco leaf (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242). Although awareness of tobacco snuff preparation and use is distributed universally throughout contemporary highland Maya communities, the eastern Tzeltal-speaking communities (particularly Tenejapa, Oxchuc, Chanal, and Cancuc) preserve the most vigorous traditions of tobacco use. In more distant parts of this region, tobacco gourds are still carried by old men, and snuff use remains common both in everyday life and in ritual contexts. In the western Tzotzil communities, in contrast, tobacco use has become much more restricted; although it remains central to many ritual and therapeutic practices, daily use as a stimulant is now rare. Tobacco Nomenclature

The tobacco plant is called moy in Tzotzil and may in Tzeltal, the two principal languages spoken in the region. These variants derive from a common protoTzeltal-Tzotzil root *may, which diversified into the two terms used today (Kaufman 1972; Berlin and Berlin 1996:297). This name refers to the living Nicotiana plant, the harvested leaves, and the ground tobacco-lime chewing tobacco preparation referred to in local Spanish as pílico (tobacco powder or snuff). “Elder Brother Tobacco” 55

In addition to this generic name, several metaphorical names (referring principally to prepared tobacco snuff) are in circulation. In several highland communities, tobacco is called “elder brother” (bankilal) or “angel” (anjel). Other less common names are also used: in Zinacantán, chewing tobacco is sometimes referred to as “great old man” (muk’ta mol), and when prepared as a curing salve used in the treatment of supernaturally induced aching and swelling of the legs it is spoken of as “lord” (’ojov) (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242). A similar name is found in the Tzotzil-speaking community of Venustiano Carranza, where tobacco is called “holy man” (ch’ul winik) (Berlin et al. 1990:99). These names appear to refer specifically to the soul essence of tobacco and are only applied to the prepared tobacco-lime mixture (which is understood to be the most potent form of the plant). This preference for indirect or metaphorical names is linked to respect for the powerful soul of tobacco, which can become offended if one refers to it directly as moy (tobacco plant). In a later section of this chapter, I explore the mythological associations referenced by these enigmatic names. Nicotiana Ethnotaxonomy

Two folk varietals of Nicotiana are locally distinguished based on the color of the flowers, which occur in both pink and white forms (figure 4.1). In the Tzotzil community of Chamula, the pink-flowered variety known as “male tobacco” (vinikil moy) is considered most potent and is the only one used for medicinal or protective purposes. The white-flowered “female tobacco” (’antzil moy) is said to “lack strength” (mu’yuk yip) and to “be of no use” (mu xtun) or “to be ineffective” (mu sbalin). Breedlove and Laughlin (1993) describe a similar pattern of use in the nearby Tzotzil township of Zinacantán. The Tzeltal community of Tenejapa is reported to accord the white-flowered plant greater medicinal strength, and this is the preferred variety for tobacco snuff (Berlin and Berlin 1996:299). While discussing the difference in potency between the two Nicotiana varieties, one of my Chamula Tzotzil collaborators—an j’ilol (traditional curer)— explained: There are two kinds of tobacco: white-flowered [sak snich] and pink-flowered [tzoj snich]. The pink-flowered one comes from Our Father in Heaven

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FIG U R E 4.1  Tobacco plant (Nicotiana tabacum L.)

and inflorescence. © Kevin P. Groark.

[the Christ/Sun deity]. It’s much better [because] it has color, it has strength. As for the white-flowered one, it is “women’s tobacco” [’antzil moy]. It is white because the woman [Our Mother in Heaven, the Moon/ Mary deity] handled it long ago. . . . She planted this one, she had her own tobacco back then. But the flower [of her tobacco] was white, not pink. It has strength, but just a little, it seems. [This is because] the woman had less power. But Our Father, he had much more strength. It’s the same with tobacco—the female [variety] has less strength. . . . Now we only use the pink-flowered one [in Chamula]. This short narrative explains the genesis of the two types (as well as variations in their relative strength) in terms of the gendered power differences between the progenitor deities said to have cultivated the first tobacco plants. From a botanical perspective, the two “varieties” are identical in all respects save for the color of the flowers. Moreover, the seeds from a pink-flowered plant can yield either white or pink daughter plants.

“Elder Brother Tobacco” 57

FIG U R E 4.2  Chamula man using tobacco snuff.

© Kevin P. Groark.

P R E P A R AT I O N A N D U S E OF TRADITIONAL TOBACCO SNUFF

Most highland Maya families have one or more tobacco plants growing in their fields or near their homes, providing a ready source of leaves for preparing tobacco snuff and medicine. In addition, belief in the plant’s ability to repel malevolent entities makes it a desirable component in house gardens (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242).3 Among traditionalist Tzotzil and Tzeltal, tobacco use centers on the ingestion of a coarsely ground mixture of fresh tobacco leaves and slaked lime. While this preparation would be referred to in English as a form of “chewing” tobacco, it is more properly described as a moist oral tobacco snuff (International Agency for Research on Cancer 2007:47). In everyday use, a small quantity of the ground tobacco-lime preparation is poured into the palm from a highly polished gourd, then tossed into the mouth, where it is held either on the tongue or between the cheek and the jaw for an extended time (figure 4.2). The juice from the tobacco quid is swallowed. This form of tobacco ingestion is described as “eating” (-lo’), rather than chewing or sucking. Once the tobacco has been exhausted, it is either swallowed or rubbed on a rock or tree; spitting the spent quid to the ground is said to be disrespectful, offending the soul of the tobacco plant. Anyone who has used freshly prepared green tobacco can attest to its potency. Swallowing the juice produces a marked burning sensation in the nasopharyngeal region, often accompanied by a burning constriction (-tzukilan) 58

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in the upper chest, leading to shallow respiration and shortness of breath (suk ’o’nton) sometimes accompanied by mild fits of hiccupping (jik’ubajel), deriving from stimulation of the trigeminal nerve. Soon after, as the nicotine enters the bloodstream and gains access to the brain, mild vertigo begins, lasting five to ten minutes. This is referred to in Tzotzil as “becoming drunk on tobacco” (-yakub ta moy) or “to be rendered dumb” (-bolibtas). Freshly prepared tobacco snuff is sometimes referred to in Tzotzil as a “stupefier” (bolibtasobil), which refers to its intoxicating effects (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:582). Several informants reported that their “head grows large” (-muk’ib jol) in the minutes after ingestion, a reference to a tingling of the scalp in which the hair follicles feel as though they are standing on end. Indeed, generalized piloerection is typical when using tobacco. Following this, a feeling of calm, stimulated focus predominates.4

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Preparation of Tobacco Snuff

In Chamula, the production of tobacco is limited to men, who prepare it for personal and family use. Although women can use tobacco, they rarely prepare it. This gender restriction is not universal; in both Chanal and Oxchuc, widows and older unmarried women prepare their own tobacco. In all communities, men and women use the same locally preferred variant, usually the pink “male” variety. Preparation of the mixture is limited to Monday, Wednesday, Friday, or Saturday (the days when the saints and other protective deities are guarding the earth from malign influences); preparing the mixture on other days is said to yield a tobacco without strength or, worse yet, one that will sicken the user. A Chamula man explained that Our Father in Heaven—the Sun/Christ deity—bestows his blessing on the tobacco during preparation, conferring power on the mixture and transforming mere moy into the supernaturally powerful bankilal or anjel. Traditionalist Maya say that neither the leaves nor the prepared tobacco snuff should be sold; rather, they must be given freely. Should the recipient of this gifted tobacco express thanks, the tobacco will be ruined; rather than curing and protecting the user, the plant will inflict diarrhea and bloating. These prohibitions on the exchange of tobacco suggest that in the past, ritualized sharing may have been more fully integrated into everyday social exchanges— much like formalized coca leaf use in contemporary Andean South America. The preparation process can be divided into four stages: “Elder Brother Tobacco” 59

1. Leaf collection: Mature Nicotiana leaves (yanal moy) are harvested when needed. As a rule, only broad, fresh, green leaves are harvested; yellow or dried leaves are never used. Leaves are left to cure in the shade for a day or two but are never allowed to dry. During this short resting period, much of the moisture in the leaves dissipates, facilitating preparation and allowing the chemical constituents to concentrate. If the leaves are processed immediately after harvesting, they are said to lose much of their strength (yip) when the bioactively rich juice is expressed and discarded. In general, 18 medium leaves will produce enough snuff to fill an average tobacco gourd. 2. Deveining: After resting for a day or two, the leaves are cleaned and carefully deveined. The lamina is stripped out from between the coarse veins and stem and then collected in a basket, cloth, or wood box (figure 4.3a). The veins and stem—too fibrous and moist to be ground into a palatable chewing tobacco—are usually discarded. 3. Pounding: After the lamina has been stripped off, it is pounded (tenbil) into a moist pulp with a stone, ax handle, or some other suitable instrument. Once reduced to a coarse mash, the leaves are often further ground with a stone mano. The final preparation is of medium coarseness, similar in texture to ground oregano leaves (figure 4.3b). 4. Incorporation of admixtures: Once reduced to a coarse mash, calcium hydroxide in the form of slaked lime (tan) is added to the leaves as an alkalizing agent, and pounding continues (figure 4.3c).5 This slaked lime is locally produced and is traditionally sold in the form of rough stone cobbles, which must first be ground into a powder. Once mixed with tobacco, the slaked lime is referred to metaphorically as chili pepper (’ich)—a reference to the heat and piquancy it confers to the mixture. Should it be called by its true name (tan) during preparation, it is said that the tobacco will lack strength. Nowadays, commercially produced calcium hydroxide (kaligra) is often substituted for the traditional slaked lime. At this stage, other additives (such as camphor or orange rinds) are sometimes mixed in to increase the heat of the tobacco, to prepare it as a special remedy, or merely to change its flavor. While mixing tobacco with camphor is said to make it “hotter” (mas k’ixin), many people use admixtures to produce a more agreeable flavor (mas lek smuil). When I asked an older, traditionalist man from Chamula about this practice, he felt it was damaging to tobacco’s power: “It’s not original, mixed up like that. It’s 60

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no good. Mixed [with substances other than slaked lime], it changes the flavor/odor of the tobacco, it no longer serves as a ‘helper’ [koltaob-bail], it can no longer defend [-poj] the person who carries it. . . . It can’t be used [for protection] because it’s already been adulterated [kapal xa], it’s been messed with [’utilanbil].”6 If the resulting mixture is too hot, its piquancy can be reduced by adding more tobacco leaves. The Tobacco Gourd

After the tobacco has been pounded to the desired coarseness, it is packed into a small, highly polished gourd for easy storage, transportation, and use (figure 4.3d). In past times, most highland Maya men carried these little gourds in their shoulder bag as they went about their daily business. Made from one of several forms of Lagenaria siceraria (Curcurbitaceae), these simple, undecorated containers are known as stzual moy (tobacco’s gourd) or, more literally, yavil moy (tobacco’s place/vessel). While tobacco gourds are rarely carried nowadays, they remain the universally favored container for tobacco snuff. They are the only containers suitable for freshly ground tobacco; porous vessels (such as those made from ceramic) draw the juice or “power” out of the tobacco, and fresh snuff quickly rots in nonporous containers (such as glass bottles or plastic containers), ruining the flavor and potency of the preparation. Like the tobacco plant, the carrying gourds are gendered. “Male gourds” (vinik tzu or stot) tend to be shaped like large chili peppers and are distinguished by their long, pointed “tail” (neil). “Female gourds” (’antzil tzu or sme’), in contrast, are rounded or tear-shaped (volvol) in form (figure 4.4, left). One man explained the difference in humorous terms: “The female gourd is round, it doesn’t have a penis [referring to its lack of a long “tail”]. It’s sort of like a breast.” Gesturing to the small nub at the base of the gourd, he added, “this here is the nipple.” The use of tobacco gourds is typically limited to men, who can carry either male or female gourds, depending on personal preference. Some people maintain that the male gourds are more desirable, since they have “more power” (owing to their associations with maleness, metaphorical heat, and male genitalia). The typical tobacco gourd is four to five inches in length, with a maximum width of three to four inches. When new, the containers are a matte honey-yellow color, but after years of use and storage in smoky dwellings, they turn a beautiful, deeply polished red-brown.7 “Elder Brother Tobacco” 61

A

B

C

D FIG U R E 4.3  Preparing tobacco snuff from fresh Nicotiana leaves, San Juan Chamula, 1998. © Kevin P. Groark.

F I G U R E 4.4  Tobacco gourds (left, “female” form; right, “male” form),

prepared tobacco, and bone dipper. © Kevin P. Groark.

In several Tzeltal communities, tobacco gourds were traditionally paired with a long deer bone spatula or needle (sbakel stzual may, “the tobacco gourd’s bone”), which was attached by a cord of leather, cotton, or henequen fiber. This bone spatula was used to break up the hard balls of tobacco that form inside the gourd as the moist tobacco dries. Gourds with bone spatulas appear to have been used throughout the Tzeltal area (especially in the communities of Tenejapa, Cancuc, Oxchuc, and Chanal) but are now quite rare: a full day of searching in the Tzeltal community of Tenejapa produced only a single example (figure 4.4, bottom). This specimen was no longer in use. It had belonged to the owner’s deceased father and was now stored next to the cross on the household altar. To my knowledge, Tenejapa is the only community in which the old deer bone tobacco dippers can still be found, however rarely. In most Tzotzil communities, a simple stick (called sjotz’obil moy, “tobacco crusher”) is used for this purpose; it is picked up as needed, then discarded. This tradition of personal tobacco containers appears to derive from the ancient Maya of the Classic period. Carlson (2007:11–12) has argued that a type of small ceramic vessel common during the Middle to Late Classic period—often referred to in the literature as “poison bottles” or “pilgrims’ flasks”—served as containers for ground tobacco. These ceramic vessels are typically flask-shaped (rounded when viewed from the front, but compressed in profile) with a flat base, often with lateral handles for suspension. Many feature Codex-style scenes and inscriptions, and some are adorned with tobacco leaf motifs or deities. The presence of enema scenes and specific inscriptions identifying the flasks as “the dwelling place/home of his/her tobacco” (y-otoot ’u-maay) clearly indicate that these vessels were used as containers for various forms of tobacco, including snuff, tobacco juice, or enema liquids derived from tobacco leaf infusions (Stuart 2005; see also Houston et al. 2006:105, 114–16; Carlson 2007:12). The chemical analysis of one such flask has revealed the presence of nicotine alkaloids, providing the first direct evidence of tobacco storage in a vessel bearing the y-otoot ’u-maay inscription (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012; Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016). During the final years of the Late Classic period, these bottles were widely traded throughout the Maya region, suggesting not only the exchange of vessels, but more important, the exchange of the contents of these vessels (Houston et al. 2006:116). While today’s highland Maya store and transport tobacco snuff exclusively in the small gourd containers described above, it is interesting to note that an Early Classic “poison bottle” in the form of a gourd “Elder Brother Tobacco” 63

was recovered from Uaxactun (Smith 1955:figs. 66a–67, cited in Houston et al. 2006:114); similarly, Deal (1998:199) has identified antique ceramic containers shaped like gourds from the Tzeltal community of Chanal. He reports that while they are no longer manufactured or used, these vessels served as temporary containers for, among other things, ground tobacco (Deal 1998:199). The use of gourd-shaped ceramic vessels for tobacco storage in the eastern Tzeltal region suggests a line of continuity between ancient Maya ceramic tobacco flasks, the ceramic gourds identified in Chanal, and the gourd containers typically used by the contemporary highland Maya. T O B A C C O A S P O W E R F U L B O TA N I C A L

In a world dominated by commercial tobacco, many people have lost a connection to the strong physiological effects and mind-altering powers of Nicotiana. Among the contemporary Tzotzil and Tzeltal Maya, however, awareness of the plant’s physiologically transformative power remains strong. Indeed, native tobacco is regarded as a prototypical medicine or “powerful substance” (poxil), offering a range of therapeutic and protective benefits. Despite its potential health risks, traditional tobacco use offers many benefits to people who spend much of their lives working outdoors. At controlled doses, the nicotine alkaloid has been shown to possess many useful properties: it reduces fatigue and pain, eases hunger, reduces the surface temperature of the skin, and produces marked central nervous system stimulation, memory enhancement, elevation of mood, and increased attentional focus (Badio and Daly 1994; Benowitz et al. 1990; McGehee et al. 1995; McGehee and Role 1996; Newhouse et al. 2004). While nicotine toxicity (marked by racing heartbeat, sweating, nausea, and vomiting) often accompanies high levels of tobacco use, even these toxic effects can be harnessed for culturally significant purposes. At high doses, nicotine can induce altered mental states and visionary experiences (Janiger and Dobkin de Rios 1973, 1976; Wilbert 1987). Ritual intoxication was practiced by the Classic Maya, who appear to have induced visionary states through the administration of tobacco juice enemas (Thompson 1946; Robicsek 1978; de Smet and Hellmuth 1986; Carlson 2007). Contemporary ritual use of tobacco combined with alcohol (which catalyzes the absorption and bioavailability of nicotine) suggests some continuity, albeit much attenuated, with this earlier visionary tradition. In a study of diachronic semantics, Maffi (1996) has convincingly argued

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that the proto-Tzeltal-Tzotzil term for medicine (*pox)—which she glosses as “powerful substance”—referred to the therapeutic use of tobacco. Today, the word pox refers universally to locally produced cane liquor, yet entries in colonial dictionaries consistently link pox to various medicinal substances, most of which were—like tobacco—smeared or rubbed on the body, a form of administration that remains common in the Chiapas highlands (Maffi 1996). Contemporary Zinacantecan Tzotzil verbs derived from the word pox retain this close connection to tobacco; the intransitive verb -poxin means “treat self with tobacco, anoint body” while the transitive form -poxta is glossed as “administer medicine, prepare (chewing tobacco by adding lime to the tobacco)” (Laughlin 1975:286, cited in Maffi 1996:33). Similarly, the derived term jpoxtavanej (herbal curer or “one who cures with powerful substances”) remains in circulation throughout the highlands. In highland Mayan ethnomedicine, a key element in botanical therapeutic strength is the ability to “attack” or “overpower” an illness, a quality usually associated with both bitter (ch’a) and piquant (ya) substances (Brett 1994). Among the Tzotzil, these two therapeutic, organoleptic qualities are considered typical of tobacco, serving as manifest indications of the “inherent power” (-ip) and “heat” (-k’ixin) of both the plant and the chewing tobacco mixture (Berlin and Berlin 1996:299).8 The quality most closely associated with tobacco’s ability to protect the user from supernatural threats is its strong odor (’ik, smuil), a quality shared by garlic (which is often used with tobacco to prepare protective mixtures). Tobacco as Sentient Botanical

Like all plants, Nicotiana is said to possess an essential soul (ch’ulel) and can therefore both feel and act. If tobacco is shown a lack of respect, people believe that it can inflict sickness on the one who offended it. Negative comments about the plant’s strong smell are said to be particularly offensive to it, resulting in constipation and severe abdominal swelling (pumel, t’imel), a condition that can be cured only by eating more tobacco. Interestingly, special agentive verb forms are used when referring to tobacco’s ability to cause illness: when it is causing constipation, the verb makesvan (to stop someone up) is used, while the infliction of swelling (said to result from thanking someone for gifted tobacco) is expressed by means of the verb sit’esvan (to cause someone to swell or bloat) (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:485). Such verb forms can be used only “Elder Brother Tobacco” 65

when referring to a subject with agentic potential, such as a person, an animal, or a powerful plant. A humorous tale from Zinacantán highlights the dangers of disrespecting tobacco while poking fun at the non-Maya’s ignorance of the plant’s medicinal virtues: Long ago a man went to the coffee fincas. He took his net [bag] along with him to work. He set it down and took out his tobacco. He put some in his mouth. The owner of the finca saw him. “Why do you eat horse shit?” he asked. “No, this is medicine” [the man replied]. The owner said, “No, it’s just horse shit.” They worked until two in the afternoon. The owner went home. He fell sick. He felt worse and worse. Then he sent for [the Maya laborers] and begged them to cure him. At last they agreed, on condition that he give them two days of rest, because in those days the workers weren’t paid. They gave him the tobacco to take, but in a bowl of urine. After they urged him and urged him to drink it, he swallowed it down. He let a big fart and got well. He bought their tobacco and respected it from then on. (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242) A similar story about the Mexican “discovery” of tobacco’s power is found among the Tenejapa Tzeltal: “A mestizo who was traveling with a group of Indians first ridiculed them when he saw them rubbing the [tobacco] snuff on themselves [for protection]. Later, however, he became seriously ill [from having disrespected the plant], and recovered only because he let tobacco be administered to him. From then on, he was as fervent an admirer of tobacco as the Indians” (Maffi 1996:42n24). While these tales illustrate the dangers of offending tobacco, they also serve as claims of ethnic ownership: tobacco is viewed as a quintessentially indigenous “secret” (sekreto), a powerful protective and therapeutic ally whose virtues are unknown in the surrounding Mexican community. Moreover, this ignorance of tobacco’s power often comes at a price: having disrespected the plant, the Mexican becomes a figure of ridicule when he is laid low with explosive diarrhea and painful abdominal swelling. Indeed, stories abound of disgruntled workers sprinkling tobacco on the backs of abusive crew bosses during the days of wage labor on lowland coffee plantations. Once the Mexican oppressor has been brought down by illness, his Maya peons demonstrate their superior knowledge and ability by restoring his health with the same tobacco that caused the illness.

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THERAPEUTIC USES OF TOBACCO

Tobacco is viewed as medicine (poxil)—a primordial resource for restoring health and protecting one from misfortune or threat. In therapeutic contexts, Nicotiana is prepared and administered in many forms: jaxbil (rubbed on the body), lo’bil (eaten), k’ixnabil (wilted by fire), ’atinbil (bathed with), ’uch’bil (drunk), tub’tabil (sprayed from the mouth/spit out), and pak’bil or lambil (applied as a bandage or compress). Often, the leaves are pounded along with ash or slaked lime, then added to water or cane liquor, and drunk as a tea. Warm tobacco leaves, sometimes with admixtures, are also commonly applied as plasters or compresses. The plant is always administered fresh, and the leaf is the only part of the plant used. Throughout the highlands, tobacco is the most commonly used remedy for a wide range of gastrointestinal ailments (Berlin and Berlin 1996:297). In the treatment of stomachache, ground tobacco is drunk with warm water. Principal admixtures to treat abdominal pain include garlic cloves (’axux; Allium sativum), the leaves of Baccharis vaccinioides (mes te’), and the leaves of Lagascea helianthifolia (papan te’) (Berlin and Berlin 1996:301). In Zinacantán, dried chili is added to the decoction to increase its heat and therapeutic potential (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:243). Several tobacco-based remedies are recognized for the alleviation of painful abdominal bloating (pumel, t’imel) caused by intrusive “wind” or aire (’ik’): ground tobacco snuff is eaten, drunk as a warm infusion, or rubbed on the affected body part. In Zinacantán, a tobacco-garlic-urine mixture is drunk in the treatment of constipation and urinary stoppage (makel), and intestinal worms are eliminated by applying tobacco leaves to the stomach in the form of a cross (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242–43). In the treatment of swelling or aching of the lower extremities caused by contact with a supernatural being or witch (poslom, potzlom), a mixture of tobacco, garlic, and women’s urine is massaged onto the affected body part following therapeutic bloodletting (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:243). More simply, the limb may be rubbed with tobacco, alcohol, and garlic, then wrapped in a cloth. Plasters of fire-warmed wilted leaves are also used in the treatment of the condition. In Oxchuc, warmed plasters of tobacco leaves—sometimes mixed with leaves from Brugmansia sp.—are used in the treatment of bone breaks, sprains, and bruises. This treatment is administered inside the family steambath, where the warm moist heat of the bath combines with the heat “Elder Brother Tobacco” 67

of the plant to relax tense muscles, facilitating therapeutic massage or other manipulations (see Groark 1997, 2005). In both Oxchuc and Chamula, tobacco leaves are used in the treatment of a form of aggressive madness known as chuvaj.9 Following therapeutic bloodletting from the forehead—intended to expel the “stupid blood” (bol ch’ich’) that precipitates the condition—raw tobacco leaves are used to wipe the blood away from the small wounds. In Chamula, a mixture of ground tobacco and garlic cloves in a base of warm cane liquor serves the same purpose. The juice and odor of the tobacco repels the evil forces that might have invaded the patient’s head in the form of aires, thereby preventing the condition from recurring or worsening. The blood expelled from the incisions is said to carry a pathogenic “vapor” (sjob) or “smoke” (sch’ailal) that can infect others. For this reason, children are not allowed to observe bloodletting, and any adults present during the procedure must rub tobacco and garlic on their bodies to protect against this sickening blood vapor (see Groark 1997:57–58, 65 for additional information on therapeutic bloodletting). Breedlove and Laughlin (1993:243) report additional uses for tobacco in the Tzotzil community of Zinacantán. A mixture of tobacco and warm water is drunk as a purgative to “vomit up” tuberculosis (sak ’obal); taken with cold water, tobacco serves as an abortifacient; the Tzotzil say that the parasitic worms cause toothaches and dental caries and can be killed with tobacco juice; and the same juice can be dripped in the eye to cure the yellow spots that sometimes appear in the sclera. Dermatological ailments treated with tobacco (often mixed with garlic) include gangrene (mos), mange (sep’), and boils (chin) (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993). Commenting on its diverse therapeutic applications, a Tzotzil-speaking man from Chamula concluded: “It’s a strong curer, this [tobacco], a strong medicine—it’s not just for you to eat [recreationally]” (’ep jpoxtavanej li’e, ’ep poxil, ma’uk no’ox sventa chalo’e). The use of the term “curer” (jpoxtavanej or “one who cures with medicines/powerful substances”) in this context is revealing: it is normally applied to people who cure others with herbal medicines. Describing tobacco in this way suggests that it possesses an inherently curative potential, one that exists quite apart from the skills or gifts of the person administering it.

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MAGICO-PROTECTIVE USES OF TOBACCO

Throughout the highlands, tobacco is accorded great respect as a personal protector. While tobacco in all forms is medicine (poxil), once the leaves are mixed with slaked lime (or another admixture, such as garlic) it becomes a “magical protector” (metz’tael), often referred to in Mayan Spanish as a sekreto (secret). Owing to its supernatural potency, in Chamula Tzotzil the protective tobacco mixture is sometimes said to be a “helper” or “assistant” (koltaob-bail), a powerful botanical ally that augments the bearer’s strength or power (’ip): Tobacco is called “helper” or “assistant” because it has power (’ip), it has strength (pwersa). When we prepare chewing tobacco and put it in the gourd, Our Father blesses it. It has power and strength because Our Father used it long ago. Just as you might carry it with you, so he carried it about with him. If you go out walking now, you take it with you, because it has power. Nothing will happen to you as you walk down the trail, even at night. If there is a demon (pukuj), he will not approach, because [the tobacco] you are carrying with you has much stronger power. The demon does not have power like that. If all you have with you is a cigarette, you’ll die quickly because a mere cigarette can’t defend (-poj) you. But if you have [chewing] tobacco it will drive away the demon, because tobacco has its power. So, if you have it with you, you too will have more power. The tobacco snuff preparation is said to defend (-poj) the user: curing illness, repelling evil forces, blinding witches and earth lords, paralyzing snakes, dissipating storms, protecting from lightning strikes, ransoming captured souls, and conferring an afterlife of rest and repose. Along with candles, incense, and rum, tobacco is a primordial food of the deities, offered to them during fiestas and rituals through proxy ingestion by religious officeholders (figure 4.5). In exchange for these ritual offerings, the deities bestow their benevolent protection on the community. Based on its unique protective potential, tobacco has been described as occupying an “intermediate position between deity and amulet” (Page Pliego 2005:143). Holland (1963:107) reports that the Tzotzil of San Andrés Larráinzar regard tobacco as a quasi-divine substance that serves as a protector by its mere presence, so long as it is shown respect. Breedlove and Laughlin (1993:242) similarly highlight the protective uses of the tobacco-lime mixture, the possession of which confers the ability to “stupefy, paralyze, blind, and “Elder Brother Tobacco” 69

F I G U R E 4.5  Religious officials bless tobacco with a rosary and bless gourds

on an altar, Santo Tomás, Oxchuc, 1991. © Kevin P. Groark.

drive away adversaries of all kinds.” These therapeutic and apotropaic uses are at the forefront of contemporary highland Maya tobacco use and figure prominently in many stories and anecdotes. Summing up its cultural significance, they conclude: “No other plant . . . is accorded the magical power, both for good and evil, as that assigned to tobacco. Although this power is focused on chewing tobacco, it is also present in the mere leaf ”(Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242). The most common method of protecting oneself with tobacco involves administration by rubbing (jaxbil), smearing the moist tobacco-lime preparation over the body, covering the abdomen, limbs, and crown of the head. Such applications are common when traveling at night or after encountering some dangerous force. People in Chamula say that the tobacco-lime mixture glows in the dark, producing an intense green-yellow light that repels evil entities, such as witches and demons. This glowing light “burns” (-k’ak’) these malevolent forces if they try to touch the protected person. A curer explained: “Now that you’re all covered [with tobacco] you have your light. It’s just like electricity—they don’t want to touch it because it will give them a shock. [Covered with tobacco,] your body is just the same as a live electrical cable. Nothing will come to molest you.” For analytic purposes, the protective uses of tobacco can be arranged into three broad classes: when used to paralyze or neutralize some immediate threat, tobacco is referred to as a yaluobil (that which lowers something); when used to repel the attack of witches or to protect a person’s soul or possessions from the unwanted attention of malevolent forces, tobacco is known as a makobil 70

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(that which closes off or blocks); and when used to protect or cure animals or property from supernatural attack, it is called a metz’tael (that which magically protects). Depending on the informant and the context, there is some variation in the use of these terms. For instance, when tobacco was used to paralyze a threatening animal, I heard it referred to as both a yaluobil and a metz’tael. Similarly, tobacco used to prevent nightmares can be a yaluobil (if its therapeutic effect is focused on “lowering” or eliminating an existing condition) or a makobil (if it is employed primarily as a prophylactic measure to “block off ” dream affliction). Each of these apotropaic uses is discussed in turn. Yaluobil: That Which Lowers

In reference to tobacco’s magical ability to incapacitate or neutralize threatening entities or forces that are immediately present (such as an approaching storm, an illness, or a snake, demon, or angry dog encountered on a trail), it is often referred to as a yaluobil. Given the close relationship between chewing tobacco and the deities of earth and sky known as angels (anjeletik), tobacco powder gives protection from the dangers posed by the natural forces and creatures under their control. Prepared tobacco is widely appreciated for its ability to protect against meteorological threats: when rubbed on the body, it protects from lightning strikes, and a person pursued by a sickness-causing rainbow can neutralize it by scattering tobacco powder on the ground (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:243). Similarly, tobacco juice spat toward an approaching storm will divert the winds, driving away the horned serpent (xulub chon) said to ride inside destructive tempests. Snakes of all types—said to be the “dogs” or assistants of the anjeletik—can be paralyzed by spitting tobacco juice at them, and should a person be bitten, a paste of chewing tobacco will neutralize the venom. Makobil: That Which Closes or Blocks

When used as a prophylactic in the prevention of supernatural or ordinary illness, tobacco’s ability to block (-mak) the affliction is emphasized. For example, tobacco is used in rubs or baths during the final stage of many shamanic curing ceremonies; in such contexts, it is referred to as a makob chamel (a thing that closes off or blocks illness). Ground tobacco and garlic are mixed with cane liquor and rubbed on the head, forearms, and calves during certain “Elder Brother Tobacco” 71

curing ceremonies (and after a death in the household) to protect the curer and any observers from being “seized” (-tzak’van) by the sickness. Warm baths of tobacco water (usually sprinkled on the head) also prevent malign forces from returning to afflict the patient during the recovery period. In Zinacantán, tobacco that is used to blind witches and their animal companions is called makob jak’ chamel (witch stopper) or makob ’utz kolo’ (evil stopper) (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:582). This refers to tobacco’s ability to repel or block the witch’s entry, distracting the evildoer with its strong odor and causing him to forget the victim completely. Ground tobacco sprinkled in the form of a cross in the doorway and along the walls of the house seals it from evil influences, repelling witches and the sicknesses they bring. Tobacco powder rubbed on the body is also used to prevent excessive dreaming, which is linked to pathogenic assaults by witches (see Groark 2017). In the nearby community of San Pedro Chenalhó, a small gourd of tobacco is placed at the head of the bed for protection when someone is ill (Guiteras-Holmes 1961:177). Should a person fall near a waterhole, river, or cave (many of which are inhabited by angels or earth lords, who snatch the souls of those who fall in the vicinity), shock-induced soul loss can be prevented by promptly rubbing tobacco on the body of the victim. And if by chance the person’s soul is taken captive, tobacco powder serves as a medium of exchange in its ransom (figure 4.6). A small quantity of tobacco, along with other “replacement offerings” (k’exolil), is buried at the precise spot where the person fell and is offered in exchange for the soul. A Chamula curer explained that tobacco is used in soul-collecting rituals because the place where the person fell is “living earth” (kuxul banamil), controlled by an earth deity (anjel) who acts as its “owner.” Since tobacco is also called anjel, “the two angels talk with one another” and come to an agreement concerning the return of the soul. Another man explained that the strong odor of tobacco distracts the earth lord’s attention from the captive soul, allowing the curer to retrieve it. Indeed, tobacco is sometimes called makob sat balamil (closer of the earth’s eyes), referencing its ability to distract the attention—to “close the eyes”—of supernatural beings, thus facilitating the rescue of the captive soul (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:582). It is interesting to note that Chamula folklore holds that earth lords enjoy only smoking tobacco; the rank odor of chewing tobacco repels them.10 During the soul retrieval, all members of the curing party rub tobacco and garlic on their bodies to protect their own souls from being seized in exchange. 72

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F I G U R E 4. 6  A woman curer offers tobacco powder to the Earth Lord during a heal-

ing ceremony for pediatric soul loss, San Juan Chamula, 1998. © Kevin P. Groark.

Metz’tael: Magical Protection

Tobacco is also used as a general protective talisman (metz’tael) or secret (sekreto), shielding the user from the sickening effects of strong emotions in others. In Chamula, parents protect their babies from “hot eye” (k’elsat)—a sickness caused by the benign envy of an admiring person—by tying tobacco, garlic, and chili peppers around the infant’s belly before taking the child out in public. A pregnant woman can also protect her unborn fetus from attack by the “heat” of other infants (an illness known as ti’el, “a biting”) by wrapping this same tobacco-garlic-pepper talisman around her own belly. Besides protecting humans, tobacco is used to magically protect objects, animals, and crops against damage or molestation, a procedure known as metz’tael ta moy (protection with tobacco). A mixture of tobacco, cane liquor, and garlic is rubbed on the bellies and sides of horses before ritual racing in Chamula center. Common wisdom holds that invidious people send an intrusive pathogenic wind or aire (’ik’) into the horses’ bellies, causing them to fatigue quickly or stumble. The tobacco rub confers greater heat and speed on the animals while protecting them from these malign influences. The same “Elder Brother Tobacco” 73

mixture, when rubbed on sheep’s bellies, also eliminates aire. In Zinacantán, Breedlove and Laughlin (1993:243) report that tobacco powder and garlic are sometimes sprinkled around cornfields to protect crops from marauding raccoons. Tobacco is also used when combating a class of stinking supernatural animals known as potzlom. These beings, which often take the form of small foxlike animals, are understood to be witch transformations or familiars. Should one of these foul creatures approach a house under cover of night, the man of the house must undress and rub his body with tobacco—a process thought to render him invisible—before confronting the animal. If the man kills it, he throws ground tobacco, garlic, and cane liquor on the corpse to prevent it from reanimating (in this context, tobacco is considered a yaluobil). Vigilantes traditionally used similar protective rubs of tobacco when killing witches, lest the maleficent soul of the evildoer pass into the body of one of his assailants at the moment of death. Similar protective applications are also used on material objects. In the past, shotguns used for killing witches and their pathogenic animal transformations (potzlometik) were “magically empowered” or “cured” (metz’tabil) by rubbing the barrel with “hot” substances, such as tobacco, garlic, and male pubic hair, before the attack. During religious ceremonies, ground tobacco is used to protect certain food preparation implements. It is rubbed on cooking pots to protect them from molestation by witches or demons; if not “cured” in this way, the pots may fracture during cooking, spilling their valuable contents into the fire. Tobacco is also applied to tamale pots to ensure that the food will turn out well; if this is neglected, it is said that half of the tamales will come out well cooked, while the other half remain raw. In Oxchuc, Hayden (2004:10) reports that religious officials rub a tobacco-lime mixture on the necks of ceremonial incense burners in a small, household-level ritual involving candles, rum, and the burning of incense. Although Hayden does not explain the ritual, similar practices in Oxchuc bestow protective blessings and transfer the heat of tobacco to the object, increasing its ritual potency. Although tobacco offers great protective potential here on the face of the earth, it is of even greater importance in the underworld, where it serves as a sign or indication (senyail) of the deceased person’s virtue and adherence to tradition during life. Frequent use of tobacco snuff is believed to leave an indelible green stain in the center of the palm, blessing the user with an afterlife of ease. A Chamula man explains the afterworldly benefits of tobacco: 74

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If you know how to eat tobacco, it can be of use to your soul. There will already be a sign on your palm [’oy xa senyail ta ’ak’ob], your hand will be green, really green [right in the center where you place the tobacco]. This is because when you were alive, you ate tobacco. So, if you die or if something happens to you, the tobacco [stain] is there on your palm. You will sit resting in the shade of a tree [in the underworld] while the other people work in their fields. If you didn’t eat tobacco, you would be given some kind of bad thing [as punishment]. . . . So, it’s much better if you know how to eat tobacco, then there is no torment [after death]—you’ve got the sign there on your palm. CEREMONIAL USES OF TOBACCO SNUFF

As discussed above, the ritual use of tobacco is now most common in the contexts of household-level curing ceremonies and apotropaic rituals (such as protecting onlookers during a curing ceremony or “closing off ” a house from entry by witches). This pattern of domestic use is typical of what Redfield (1955, 1956, 1960) calls the “Little Tradition”—folk rituals of hearth, home, and field, often of a markedly conservative nature. With the arrival of the Spaniards, the elite ideologies and public practices of the “Great Tradition”— typical of urban centers and ceremonial spaces—were rapidly eliminated. In contrast, the less conspicuous domestic rituals of the “Little Tradition” were largely unaffected, surviving in isolated indigenous communities up to the present. Today, the only recorded evidence of what might be considered “high ceremonial” Mayan tobacco culture is found in the new year Kajwaltik ceremony of Santo Tomás, Oxchuc, in which 13 gourds of tobacco-lime snuff are offered on an altar alongside a “sacred book” (see Thompson 1990:113). This ritual, unique in the highlands, is the only documented case in which tobacco snuff is presented as a formal ritual offering in an official, community-level ceremonial context. Every three years on the thirty-first of December, a ceremony takes place in the municipal building of the Tzeltal Maya–speaking community of Oxchuc. This ceremony marks the official transfer of power between ritual leaders; as the incumbent group finishes their three-year term, the ceremonial power and associated symbols of authority are transferred to the incoming officials. Although much of the significance of the ceremony remains obscure, the ritual “Elder Brother Tobacco” 75

activity is centered on a sacred deerskin-bound volume known as Kajwaltik (Our Lord).11 Throughout the year, the book is stored in a chest in the house of the mayor, but during the ceremony it is placed in the municipal building on an altar table surrounded by 13 candles, 13 rosaries, 13 vessels of atole, and 13 gourds of tobacco-lime preparation (Thompson 1990:113). On the last day of December, the sacred batons of office are placed in front of the book, and for the next three days—the first three days of the new year—the book is watched over and venerated by the traditional Oxchuc civil and ritual authorities in a ceremony known as kanan Kajwaltik (caring for [the sacred book] Our Lord) (Méndez Girón et al. 2008; see also Redfield and Villa Rojas 1939:114; Megged 1984, 1996:161–62; Esponda Jimeno 1992; Gómez Sánchez et al. 2007). As Megged (1996:161–62) points out, this ceremony bears a striking resemblance to the complex new year and year-bearer ceremonies of the Postclassic Yucatec Maya as described by Bishop Diego de Landa (albeit with a colonial text replacing the use of the ancient Maya codex books and with a schedule that now accords with the Gregorian calendar instead of the ancient Maya calendar cycle). Pharo (2014) notes that these Postclassic ceremonies were connected to the election of four officials known as chaacs (rain gods), and they served not only to mark a new calendrical cycle, but also to initiate more general processes of renewal and restoration. Given the close association between tobacco and the rain deities of both the ancient and contemporary Maya, the inclusion of 13 gourds of tobacco in the Oxchuc changing-of-office ceremony suggests as yet unexplored connections between the new year ceremony and rituals associated with rain and agricultural fertility. In this regard, it is interesting to note that local oral tradition in Oxchuc holds that the deerskin binding of the sacred Kajwaltik book undergoes changes in texture understood to presage the quality of the rainy season for the coming year (Rockwell 2005:11, 2006:183–84). Despite its high ceremonial context, the use of tobacco in the Kajwaltik ritual maintains a continuity with common, household-level ritual practices throughout the region. In Oxchuc, tobacco is still placed on home altars during domestic ceremonies, and it is often blessed by ritual officeholders before use at fiestas (figure 4.5). In Chamula and Tenejapa, tobacco-filled gourds are sometimes stored on or under the household altar, a placement that indicates tobacco’s status as a first-order ritual substance, a food fit for gods.

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C O S M O L O G I C A L A S S O C I AT I O N S OF TOBACCO AND GOURD

To fully appreciate tobacco’s significance as a quasi-supernatural therapeutic and protective agent, we must understand its place in local cosmology and mythology, both past and present. While ancient Maya cosmological beliefs surrounding tobacco remain obscure, investigations have shed some light on pre-Columbian tobacco ideology and practice. Tobacco and the Deities of Storm and Sky

After extensive epigraphic and iconographic research, it appears that the Classic Maya God L (most famously depicted as an old man smoking a large cigar in the Temple of the Foliated Cross in Palenque) represents “the very personification of tobacco itself in all of its forms” (Carlson 2007; see also Miller and Taube 1993:112, 147, 169; Kerr and Kerr 2005). Based on epigraphic evidence, Carlson suggests that God L was called Mahy (Tobacco) and probably Ch’ul Mahy (Holy Tobacco or Holy Medicine). Holy Tobacco represents the first shaman or first priest and was the principal deity associated with medicine and curing. For the purposes of this chapter, it is significant that this deity is often depicted facing God K, who is related to the Mayan storm god complex (Kerr and Kerr 2005). This association between tobacco and deities of storm and sky can still be found in fragments of contemporary highland Maya cosmology. As mentioned, tobacco snuff is called “elder brother” (bankilal) in many Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya communities. This name indexes local cosmological beliefs in which Tobacco is explicitly identified as the elder brother of Thunderbolt (chauk, anjel). It is said that elder brother Tobacco scolded younger brother Thunderbolt for striking people, and that the tobacco plant now protects people from meteorological disturbances, such as destructive “thieving winds” (j’elek’ ’ik’), thunderbolts (chauk), and sickness-giving rainbows (vaknabal). A man from Chamula explained this relationship: Thunderbolt (chauk, anjel) is younger brother (’itz’inal) of Tobacco. Tobacco has power over storms because he is the older brother (bankilal) of lightning and thunder. If the wind and thunderbolts come, tobacco dissipates them. The two talk together—Thunderbolt up above and Tobacco “Elder Brother Tobacco” 77

here [on the earth]. They talk with each other and the storm calms. Since Tobacco is the older brother, he has more power. He diminishes the power of his younger brother, thunder and lightning. That is why [Tobacco] is called “elder brother” (bankilal). Based on similar ethnographic data from across the region, Carlson speculates that old God L (Holy Tobacco) and God K (Smoking Lightning Ax) are related to one another as elder and junior brother, respectively. As mentioned, in Chamula Tzotzil the favored name for prepared tobacco snuff is anjel (angel). This term references the same network of associations as the “older brother” appellation, emphasizing the connection between tobacco and a class of deities of earth and sky also known as “angels.” Among both Tzeltal- and Tzotzil-speakers, the term anjel refers to thunder and lightning as well as tobacco. The name also refers to the various earth lords (yajval vitzetik) that inhabit local landforms (such as waterholes, mountains, and caves), all of whom are closely associated with the production of both nourishing rains and destructive winds (cf. Mendelson 1967; Thompson 1990:267–70). Owing to his kin relation as elder brother to Thunderbolt, Tobacco exercises control over these angels and the elemental forces with which they are associated. This senior-junior (bankilal–’itz’inal) relationship is drawn on to explain tobacco’s ability to defend against dangers posed by these potentially malevolent forces of earth and sky. In Chamula, tobacco can be thrown or spit toward an approaching storm to prevent destructive winds. Similarly, in San Pedro Chenalhó, people used to put powdered tobacco in their cheeks to reduce the intensity of thunder and lightning (Guiteras-Holmes 1961:177, cited in Stoller and Stross 2013). Köhler’s (1995) ethnohistoric work on the relationships among rain gods, earth lords, and angels illuminates some of the cosmological underpinnings of highland Maya tobacco belief. During the colonial period, tobacco (anjel) appears to have become associated with Saint Michael the Archangel (San Miguel Arcángel), the most senior angel in God’s army and the leader of the heavenly forces that triumphed over the rebel angels led by “the dragon” (identified with Satan). In Yucatán, the name Canjel refers to San Miguel Arcángel as well as various elements and phenomena associated with the rain gods, such as thunder, lightning, and storms (Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934:116, cited in Köhler 1995). Köhler (1995:123) argues that Canjel derives from a contracted form of arcángel, the title of the supreme rain god San Miguel Arcángel, the 78

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most senior (bankilal) of the local chaacs (rain gods). Here is a plausible historical connection explaining the origin of both the “senior/elder brother” appellation and the close association between tobacco and angelic protective power. Drawing on the work of Lehmann (1949), Köhler (1995:125) points out that the story of San Miguel Arcángel played an important pedagogical role in the evangelization efforts of early missionaries, who taught that many of the beings worshipped by the Maya as gods (for instance, various earth deities) were in fact the fallen angels defeated by San Miguel and banished from heaven. This evangelical account of a battle in the sky between warring angelic armies connected the Christian angels to the thunderous rain gods of the ancient Maya, and the iconographic representations of San Miguel brandishing a flaming sword while standing atop a defeated serpent or dragon readily associated him with lightning, thunder, and snakes (Köhler 1995). As discussed, this association persists in contemporary highland Maya beliefs linking tobacco to protection from meteorological disturbances, such as lightning strikes, hailstorms, and destructive winds, along with serpents and demonic forces of all kinds. Indeed, tobacco has been deeply integrated into the syncretic Christian cosmology held by traditional Mayan Catholics.12 As a traditionalist man from Chamula explained, the protective power of tobacco was recognized during the “First Creation” by Our Father in Heaven (Jtotik ta Vinajel), the Sun/Christ deity, who is the primary protector of humanity and the first person to plant and use tobacco: A long time ago, Our Father walked like a real person—like us, he walked the earth. And tobacco, well he carried it with him as he walked about. That’s why tobacco remains on earth and continues to serve the people. You know why? Because Our Father carried it with him, he had his tobacco a long time ago. He chewed tobacco and used it whenever he went walking about. . . . That’s the way they say it was long ago with Our Father. He always carried his “assistant” (koltaob-bail), he had a helper to augment his own power. Tobacco thus served as a powerful ally even during the First Creation, protecting the Sun/Christ deity himself during his travels on the face of the earth. Contemporary highland Maya attribute significant protective powers not only to the tobacco plant, but also to the gourd in which tobacco snuff is stored. Indeed, the gourd itself possesses quasi-talismanic properties, protecting the owner against a wide range of threats. “Elder Brother Tobacco” 79

Talismanic Properties of the Tobacco Gourd

The tobacco gourd, like the tobacco plant, is closely linked to protective powers, particularly the ability to safeguard the owner during travels away from home. Further, tobacco-filled gourds serve as general protective talismans and are often stored in the house. Several people I spoke to explained that the gourd gains its strength from the constant absorption of concentrated tobacco juice, which gradually infuses the container with the same power as the plant. Like tobacco, the gourd is said to glow or emit light when dangerous forces draw near or when its owner needs assistance. In a tale from the Tzotzil community of Zinacantán reported by Breedlove and Laughlin (1993:242), men working on a lowland coffee plantation slept with tobacco gourds next to their heads. When the evil-intentioned plantation owner looked in on the workers, he saw flames dancing on the ground next to the gourds and left them unmolested. Describing the Tzeltal community of Tenejapa, Maffi (1996:42n22) recounts a widely held belief relating to the protective role of the tobacco gourds: “should one become lost somewhere along a path away from home, especially while drunk—and maybe even pass out and fall in a ditch—the small gourd would begin to shine brightly, revealing one’s location to rescuers. Older Tenejapans . . . still [swear] to having witnessed this phenomenon.” The author reports that men always used to carry tobacco snuff gourds, but “this habit is now waning” (Maffi 1996:42n22). However, during a fiesta I attended in the community in 2003, I made an informal survey of the authorities and religious officeholders celebrating in the church, and I found that most men carried a small gourd of tobacco in their shoulder bag.13 Although many of the underlying cosmological associations have been lost, the tobacco gourd appears to have been rich with symbolic import. A Chamula folktale I collected in 2003 recounts how the Sun/Christ deity’s tobacco gourd transformed into Hummingbird at the end of the First Creation, explaining both the origin of the hummingbird and its unique dietary preferences: Our Father’s tobacco had its container [its gourd] (yavil moy). When he ceased to walk the earth long ago, his tobacco gourd was thrown aside and fell into disuse. It felt sad there where it was left, so it transformed into a bird, it became a hummingbird (tz’unun). Now that hummingbird . . . he didn’t know how to eat food; he just suck[ed] the juice of flowers. This is because only [fresh] tobacco was placed in the gourd [when Our 80

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Father carried it], nothing else. That’s why it turned into a bird, into a hummingbird. That’s why the hummingbird is called “Our Father’s tobacco gourd” (stzual smoy jtotik).14 The tobacco gourd sprouted wings, sprouted feathers. He began to flutter about in the air. So, that tobacco gourd, it has a soul, its soul is Hummingbird. After relating this account, the narrator explained that the primordial link between the tobacco gourd and the hummingbird is preserved as a “sign” in the form of the gourd: the rounded gourd (tzu) is the bird’s body, the pointed tip (neil) is its tail, and the stopper (suk stzual moy) and retaining string (yak’il) form the head and beak. As this myth fragment indicates, the tobacco gourd is symbolically linked to the origin of the hummingbird and seems to share something of its essence (or vice versa). As the final line of this story reveals, the soul of the tobacco gourd is none other than Hummingbird, messenger of Sun and protective animal companion of warriors throughout Mesoamerica. Recinos (1961:105) points out that Hummingbird was connected to the ancestral creator deities of the Popol Vuh, acting as their animal soul companion, the “guardian and protector of the people and their souls” (cited in Page Pliego 2005:146). Similarly, Guiteras-Holmes (1961:248) reports that in the Tzotzil community of San Pedro Chenalhó, Hummingbird is considered one of the most powerful animal souls, possessed only by the totilme’iletik (father-mothers), a hidden cabal of supernaturally powerful men who protect the community from illnesses and other invasive threats. Hummingbird is said to protect people’s animal souls from predation by Jaguar, who will kill and consume them if they are unprotected (Guiteras-Holmes 1961:134). It is interesting to note that Brent Berlin (pers. comm., July 2008) recorded a Tenejapa Tzeltal tale in which a man is saved from a jaguar by the protective power of his tobacco gourd. In addition, Hunt (1977) has established a close connection between Hummingbird and Sun, an association reflected in the aforementioned myth from Chamula, in which the tobacco gourd serves as a protective helper to the young Christ deity before his death and resurrection as Sun. Additional myths from Guatemala emphasize this Sun-HummingbirdTobacco connection. A Mopan Maya myth reported by Thompson (1990:364) describes an adventure of the young Sun deity who, while attempting to woo a young girl who later became Moon, slipped and fell in front of her. As she laughed at him, he transformed into a hummingbird and darted back and forth between the flowers of a tobacco plant, drinking their nectar. After the “Elder Brother Tobacco” 81

girl’s father killed the hummingbird with a blowgun dart, the girl took the dead hummingbird into her room, where it revived, and they fled together to become Sun and Moon. A cognate myth collected among the Kakchiquel Maya indicates that at night Sun transformed into a hummingbird to visit his lover—the future Moon—in a disguised form that would not be noticed by her father (Thompson 1990:365). In a K’ekchi’ version of this same story, the young Sun deity is explicitly identified as Xbalanque—Jaguar Sun—one of the hero twins of the Popol Vuh (Thompson 1990:364). Despite the gaps and inconsistencies in these diverse accounts, a close association appears to exist among Tobacco, Hummingbird, and various progenitor deities, be they God L of the ancient Maya, the hero twins of the Popol Vuh, or Sun and Moon of contemporary Maya communities. As I have demonstrated, echoes of these ancient stories can still be found in contemporary highland Maya communities, where tobacco continues to be recognized as both a primordial medicine and a powerful botanical ally with dominion over deities of earth and sky. CHANGES IN TRADITIONAL TOBACCO U S E P AT T E R N S

Despite the complex and multifaceted tradition of tobacco use that has been maintained in the highlands since the time of the ancient Maya, the practices described in this chapter are disappearing. In closing, I offer some observations on the changing nature of tobacco culture in the highlands of Chiapas. Although tobacco continues to be used, the contours of “traditional” use have shifted, becoming at once more limited and more closely associated with traditionalist religious beliefs and practices. Vignette 1

On a humid afternoon in 2005, during a field trip to the Maya archaeological site of Palenque, I sat outside the entrance to the ruins with a Tzotzil Maya friend, resting in the shade. Two young girls—second-generation colonists from my friend’s natal hamlet in the Tzotzil-speaking community of San Juan Chamula—sat down and chatted with us. During a lull in the conversation, I casually poured some tobacco snuff into my palm and tossed it into my mouth. The girls watched quietly with a puzzled expression, looked at each other, and 82

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then asked me what I had just eaten. My Chamula companion was stunned. “You don’t know what that is?” he asked. “You don’t know how to ‘eat’ tobacco here?” When the girls replied that they had never seen anyone do this, he told them, “That there is tobacco [moy], we call it ‘angel’ [anjel].” After a moment of silence, he asked again, “You really don’t know how to eat tobacco here?” Although this exchange took place in the Chiapas lowlands with the children of expatriated Tzotzil Maya colonists, similar processes of change and loss of ethnobotanical knowledge are occurring in the highlands as well. Despite its millennia-deep history, Maya tobacco culture is transforming—and, in many cases, being lost—at an alarming rate. Vignette 2

During fieldwork, I made a habit of carrying tobacco with me wherever I went. I always brought it to fiestas and offered it to the ritual officials and their retinues. Invariably, they would accept the proffered tobacco with enthusiasm, asking me where it came from and where I “learned to eat” tobacco. One young man, observing my habit of chewing tobacco in social settings, rebuked me, saying: “We don’t use tobacco like that. For us, it’s like a secret [ja’ k’u cha’al jun sekreto]. We just use it for protection, for curing. You chew it all the time. It’s just another vice, like smoking.” This comment highlights a split in contemporary highland Maya tobacco use: the native tobacco-lime snuff preparation has become increasingly sacralized and is now almost exclusively associated with ritual, medicinal, and protective uses, while its more secular and social functions have been replaced by commercial cigarettes (sikarol).15 The rapid spread of evangelical Protestantism in the highlands has further contributed to decline in both the knowledge and use of traditional tobacco. The plant is closely linked to the practices of traditional curers, a group rejected by Protestant converts as morally suspect and evil. Thus, many of the powerful ritual substances associated with traditional curing—particularly those with an intoxicating effect, such as tobacco and cane liquor—have also been rejected as corrupt and spiritually threatening. CONCLUSION

Throughout the Maya region, tobacco is regarded as a supernaturally powerful plant. Both ancient and modern Maya have employed the plant (in “Elder Brother Tobacco” 83

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various forms) as an intoxicant, a stimulant, a medicine, and a potent magical agent—a general-purpose botanical ally or protector. Traditional tobacco use continues to play an important role in the therapeutic, religious, and ritual life of many contemporary Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya in the Chiapas highlands of southern Mexico. However, despite the plant’s manifest cultural importance, there have been no focused ethnographic studies of its use. Accordingly, my goal for this chapter has been to record “traditional” highland Maya tobacco culture, documenting Nicotiana preparation, use, and associated beliefs while they are still available for study as part of a living ethnobotanical tradition. Following an overview of highland Maya tobacco ethnotaxonomy and nomenclature, I described highland Maya tobacco preparation, exploring its use in therapeutic and apotropaic contexts. Integrating ethnographic interviews conducted in the Tzotzil-speaking community of San Juan Chamula with the broader ethnographic and ethnohistoric record for the region, I presented an overview of the cosmological and mythological significance of tobacco in the highland Maya worldview. Owing to both its chemical potency and quasimagical power, the plant is considered by both Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya to have an ability to overpower a wide range of illnesses and supernatural threats. Indeed, controlled nicotine ingestion—particularly when taken in the form of oral snuff—generates a range of positive psychological and physiological effects and is effective in the treatment of a wide range of everyday health conditions. Taken together, the ethnobotanical, ethnomedical, and cosmological data presented here establish that tobacco remains a paramount primordial medicine in the pharmacopoeia of the contemporary highland Maya, despite its changing patterns of use. REFERENCES CITED Badio, B., and J. Daly 1994 Epibatidine, a Potent Analgesic and Nicotinic Agonist. Molecular Pharmacology 45:563–68. Benowitz, N. L., H. Porchet, and P. Jacob 1990 Pharmacokinetics, Metabolism, and Pharmacodynamics of Nicotine. In Nicotine Psychopharmacology: Molecular, Cellular, and Behavioural Aspects, ed. S. Wonnacott, M. A. H. Russell, and I. P. Stolerman, 112–57. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Benowitz, N. L., et al. 1988 Nicotine Absorption and Cardiovascular Effects with Smokeless

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Tobacco Use: Comparison with Cigarettes and Nicotine Gum. Clinical Pharmacology and Therapeutics 44:23–28. Berlin, B., et al. 1990 La herbolaria médica Tzeltal-Tzotzil en los altos de Chiapas: Un ensayo preliminar sobre las cincuenta especias botánicas de uso más frecuente. Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Chiapas, Mexico: Gobierno del Estado de Chiapas (Consejo Estatal de Fomento a la Investigación y Difusión de la Cultura, DIF-Chiapas, and Instituto Chiapaneco de Cultura). Berlin, E. A., and B. Berlin 1996 Medical Ethnobiology of the Highland Maya of Chiapas, Mexico: The Gastrointestinal Diseases. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Breedlove, D. E., and R. M. Laughlin 1993 The Flowering of Man: A Tzotzil Botany of Zinacantán. 2 vols. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Brett, J. A. 1994 Medicinal Plant Selection Criteria among the Tzeltal Maya of Highland Chiapas, Mexico. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley. Carlson, J. B. 2007 Entries 16–19, 118. In The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress: A Catalog of the Gift of the Jay I. Kislak Foundation to the Library of Congress, ed. Arthur Dunkelman, 11–13, 42. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Deal, M. 1998 Pottery Ethnoarchaeology in the Central Maya Highlands. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. de Smet, P. A. G. M., and N. M. Hellmuth 1986 A Multidisciplinary Approach to Ritual Enema Scenes on Ancient Maya Pottery. Journal of Ethnopharmacology 16(2–3):213–62. D’Orlando, K. J., and B. S. Fox 2004 Tolerability and Pharmacokinetics of Single and Repeated Doses of Nicotine with the Straw, a Novel Nicotine Replacement Product. Nicotine and Tobacco Research 6:63–70. Esponda Jimeno, Victor Manuel 1992 El K’awaltic: Las ordenanzas de Oxchuc del visitador Jacinto Roldán de la Cueva, 1674. Anuario del Instituto Chiapaneco de Cultura 1992:187–205. Gómez Sánchez, María, et al. 2007 Changeover of Authorities in Oxchuc. Video. Tseltal Documentation Project, Archive of the Indigenous Languages of Latin America. https:// www.ailla.utexas.org/islandora/object/ailla%3A131895. “Elder Brother Tobacco” 85

Goodspeed, T. H. 1954 The Genus “Nicotiana”: Origins, Relationships, and Evolution of Its Species in the Light of Their Distribution, Morphology, and Cytogenetics. Waltham, MA: Chronica Botanica. Gossen, Gary H., trans. and ed. 2002 Four Creations: An Epic Story of the Chiapas Mayas. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Groark, K. P. 1997 To Warm the Blood, to Warm the Flesh: The Role of the Steambath in Highland Maya (Tzeltal-Tzotzil) Ethnomedicine. Journal of Latin American Lore 21(1):3–96. 2005 Vital Warmth and Well-Being: Steambathing as Household Therapy among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Highland Chiapas, Mexico. Social Science and Medicine 61:785–95. 2017 Specters of Social Antagonism: The Cultural Psychodynamics of Dream Aggression among the Tzotzil Maya of San Juan Chamula (Chiapas, Mexico). Ethos 45(3):314–41. Guiteras-Holmes, C. 1961 Perils of the Soul: The World View of a Tzotzil Indian. New York: Free Press. Hayden, Brian 2004 Signs and Symbols of the Maya. PARI Journal 5(2):7–12. Henningfield, J. E., A. Radzius, and E. J. Cone 1995 Estimation of Available Nicotine Content of Six Smokeless Tobacco Products. Tobacco Control 4:57–61. Holland, W. 1963 Medicina Maya en los altos de Chiapas. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional Indigenista. Houston, Stephen, David Stuart, and Karl Taube 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Hunt, E. 1977 The Transformation of the Hummingbird: Cultural Roots of a Zinacantecan Mythical Poem. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. International Agency for Research on Cancer 2007 IARC Monographs on the Evaluation of Carcinogenic Risks to Humans, vol. 89: Smokeless Tobacco and Some Tobacco-Specific N-Nitrosamines. Lyon, France: World Health Organization, International Agency for Research on Cancer.

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Mendelson, E. M. 1967 Ritual and Mythology. In Handbook of Middle American Indians, vol. 6: Social Anthropology, ed. M. Nash, 392–415. Austin: University of Texas Press. Méndez Girón, Juan, et al. 2008 The Sacred Book. Video. Tseltal Documentation Project, Archive of the Indigenous Languages of Latin America. https://www.ailla.utexas.org /islandora/object/ailla%3A132005. Miller, M. E., and K. Taube 1993 The Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya: An Illustrated Dictionary of Mesoamerican Religion. London: Thames and Hudson. Newhouse, P. A., A. Potter, and A. Singh 2004 Effects of Nicotinic Stimulation on Cognitive Performance. Current Opinion in Pharmacology 4:36–46. Page Pliego, J. T. 2005 El mandato de los dioses: Etnomedicina entre los tzotziles de Chamula y Chenalhó, Chiapas. Mexico City: Programa de Investigaciones Multidisciplinarias sobre Mesoamérica y el Sureste, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Pharo, Lars Kirkhusmo 2014 The Ritual Practice of Time: Philosophy and Sociopolitics of Mesoamerican Calendars. Leiden, Netherlands: Brill. Recinos, Adrian, trans. 1961 [1952] Popol Vuh: Antiguas historias del Quiché. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Redfield, Robert 1955 The Social Organization of Tradition. Far Eastern Quarterly 15(1):13–21. 1956 Peasant Society and Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1960 The Little Community and Peasant Society and Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Redfield, Robert, and Alfonso Villa Rojas 1934 Chan Kom: A Maya Village. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. 1939 Notes on the Ethnography of Tzeltal Communities of Chiapas. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Renner, C. C., et al. 2005 Iqmik: A Form of Smokeless Tobacco Used among Alaska Natives. American Journal of Health Behavior 29(6):588–94. Robicsek, F. 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 88

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NOTES 1. This chapter is an expanded and revised version of a paper originally published in the Journal of Ethnobiology 30(1) under the title “The Angel in the Gourd: Ritual, Therapeutic, and Protective Uses of Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum) among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico.” Reprinted by permission from Journal of Ethnobiology, © 2010, Society of Ethnobiology. Ethnographic data presented in this chapter were collected between 1992 and 2008 in the Tzotzil Maya community of San Juan Chamula, with supplementary data and observations from the Tzeltal Maya communities of Santo Tomás Oxchuc and Tenejapa. Unless otherwise noted, “Elder Brother Tobacco” 89

all native language terms are in the Chamula dialect of Tzotzil, and all interview excerpts were translated from Tzotzil Maya by me. Field research was supported at various stages by the National Science Foundation, the ISOP-Ford Foundation, the Tinker Foundation, the Department of Anthropology at the University of California, Los Angeles, and the Division of Occupational Science and Occupational Therapy at the University of Southern California. 2. Throughout this chapter, I employ the following technical convention when discussing the plant and its cultural uses: the genus name Nicotiana is used when referring to the plant, while the term “tobacco” will be used when referring to prepared forms of the plant (such as chews, snuffs, or smoked forms). 3. Despite this, it is also believed that too many young plants growing around the house can threaten the safety of the domestic space; the collective “heat” of the tobacco plants is said to bring starvation or sickness to the house (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:242). 4. Per Wilbert (1987:137), oral administration in which little or no tobacco juice is expectorated maximizes enteric absorption of nicotine through the buccal cavity, the stomach, and the small and large intestines (see also D’Orlando and Fox 2004). Indeed, nicotine absorption from tobacco quids is two to three times greater than that obtained from smoked tobacco (Benowitz et al. 1988). Absorption rates depend on the size of the quid, the fineness of grinding, the amount of time the quid is retained, its relative movement in the mouth, and the presence of alkalizing agents, but under optimal conditions total absorption is possible (Wilbert 1987:137). Since the nicotine alkaloid is miscible in salivary secretions, rapid diffusion across the epithelium and vascular barriers provides ready access to the heart and circulatory system, thereby elevating blood levels of nicotine (Wilbert 1987:137–38). 5. The use of alkalizing agents (such as slaked lime) in the preparation or administration of tobacco raises pH to levels that maximize the bioavailability of free nicotine (Henningfield et al. 1995; Tomar and Henningfield 1997; Renner et al. 2005). Unprotonated, or freebase, nicotine is rapidly absorbed through the mucosal membranes in the oral cavity, resulting in levels of serum nicotine two to three times higher than that produced by smoked tobacco (Benowitz et al. 1988). Alkaline substances increase salivation, creating an oral microenvironment that accelerates and intensifies the action of the drug (Wilbert 1987:138). Adding them catalyzes the chemical potential of the tobacco leaf, effectively augmenting its potency and bioactivity. 6. Although many people have mentioned the use of admixtures, in more than 25 years of research in the region, I have never seen them employed in tobacco preparation. 7. Suitable specimens are sold in regional markets, but they are expensive; a typical container with no stopper costs about Mex$10 (which in the 1990s was roughly 20 90

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percent of a man’s daily wage). Breedlove and Laughlin (1993:135) describe the laborintensive process involved in preparing dried gourds for sale: “[First,] the end of the gourd is broken and the gourd is placed on a fire, if still green, to remove the outer rind. Then it is buried for two days. When it is dug up, the pulp is removed and the inner surface is scraped and rinsed. The gourd is set in the sun for 2–3 days to dry. Then, the outer surface is scraped with a knife.” This lengthy preparation, combined with the difficulty of procuring gourds with no insect holes or unsightly blemishes, accounts for their high cost. 8. As Brett (1994) has pointed out, strong medicines often have a range of adverse effects on the body of the person who consumes them; as this struggle between medicine and illness unfolds, it is expected that the patient may feel worse before improving. Indeed, excessive tobacco ingestion (especially in liquid forms) can lead to dilation of the pupils, cold sweats, nausea, stomach pain, and vomiting. 9. In Chamula oneirocritic theory, tobacco and madness are closely connected. If a person accepts and consumes proffered tobacco in a dream, their head will feel “drunk” the next day (xyakub sjol), and they may be stricken with aggressive madness (chuvajib sjol), which manifests as unjustified anger toward family and friends. The association between tobacco and madness appears to derive from the fact that both tobacco and madness make the individual feel drunk (-yakub), and the dream ingestion of intoxicating tobacco augurs the onset of a similar aggressive drunkenness or disorientation in waking life. 10. Reflecting this belief, an archaic name for a local snail species is “the angel’s smoking tobacco vessel” (yav smoy anjel or yav sikol anjel), a reference to the snail shell, which the angels and earth lords use as their pipe (skachimpá anjel, “angel’s pipe”). These are now little-known expressions and typical only of older speakers, who use them for humorous effect. In Yucatán, earth lords and rain deities are said to be extremely fond of smoking tobacco, and cigars are a central element in rain ceremonies, preventing “bad winds” from accompanying the rains (Gabriel 2007:172–73). 11. Although I was never shown the book, those who have examined it report that it consists of a set of colonial royal ordinances delivered in 1674 by the visiting Guatemalan judge Jacinto Roldán de la Cueva (Esponda Jimeno 1992). Contemporary Oxchuqueros are unaware of the actual provenance of the tome and its contents, regarding it simply as a “sacred book” linked to the continued well-being of the municipality. 12. An old Tzeltal woman from Chanal (which separated from Oxchuc about 150 years ago) commented that in Oxchuc, tobacco is linked to Santo Tomás, the patron saint of the community. She claimed that the common metaphorical name for tobacco [bankilal, “elder brother”] refers directly to this saint. 13. The diversity of forms used in Tenejapa was impressive. While many men were “Elder Brother Tobacco” 91

using the traditional “male” and “female” forms of Lagenaria siceraria, a significant number were carrying small, tight-waisted, hourglass-shaped gourds, often attached to thin woven straps and hidden away in their shoulder bags. 14. Chamulas recognize two varieties of hummingbird, bik’ital tzu (little tobacco gourd) and muk’ta tzu (big tobacco gourd) (Gossen 2002:98). The common name for hummingbird is tz’unun. 15. Today, the daily use of tobacco snuff is rare. Although still seen among some old men and among people living in distant and isolated communities, traditional tobacco use is now most frequently encountered in ceremonial, religious, protective, and therapeutic contexts. Despite the plant’s ritual associations and close connection with curing, anecdotal data suggest that such restricted use was not always the rule. When asked about less formal uses of tobacco, Chamula informants recalled “old men” they knew who were “always walking around eating tobacco,” and they humorously observed that these men could be readily identified by the tobacco stains on their left palms. The ubiquity of tobacco gourds in the shoulder bags of highland Maya men further attests to its past use in everyday contexts. When the profound physiological effects of nicotine are considered, secular uses of tobacco should come as no surprise (and given the potent addictive potential of nicotine, some degree of habitual use should be expected).

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CHAPTER FIVE

Allopathic Shamanism Indigenous American Cultures, Psychopharmacy, and the Prince of Flowers MICHAEL MCBRIDE The abundant evidence would suggest . . . that tobacco was the supernatural plant par excellence of the American Indian, for tobacco was used aboriginally everywhere that it would grow in the New World, that is from middle Canada southward to Patagonia. Weston La Barre, 1970

In this chapter I review and bring together many diverse topics and writings into a narrative that provides background and context for the scholarship presented in this volume. My goal is to integrate medical, historical, and other scientific detail that add to the study and understanding of shamanistic expression and the development of New World cultures as they have been influenced by tobacco and other ritual substances (figure 5.1). The affairs of ancient humanity have been illuminated through archaeology, ethnography, linguistics, DNA research, and other scientific applications. In particular, much has been written addressing the time line and tenets of human behavior that formed shamanism and early religious thought. A subset of the work of researching shamanic development and practice is exploration of the shamanic techniques of altered states of consciousness through the use of exogenous agents, that is, substances not naturally occurring in the human body. Since shamanic practice without the ingestion of exogenous agents (such as drumming, meditation, and sensory deprivation) is well documented, this chapter focuses on pathways facilitated by the use of various psychoactive substances, that is, allopathic pathways to altered consciousness. Since tobacco use is the theme of this volume, I explore its use and that of

FIG U R E 5.1  A Lacandon Maya girl holds a home-

rolled cigar of N. tabacum in Bonampak, Chiapas, Mexico. Photo by Michael McBride.

other psychoactive agents that produce the various ecstatic states moderated by endogenous (internal) brain chemistry. Moreover, I consider more complex and perhaps unanswerable questions: Why do only certain neurological receptor systems, in certain specific combinations, moderate states of altered consciousness? Why, in nature, do some plants produce organic molecules that mimic human neurotransmitters in ways more profound than the human endogenous agents? In an effort to understand shamanic cultural expressions in more recent times, as well as interpret artifactual and ethnographic evidence of cultural development in both Eurasia and the Americas, I review archaeological and anthropological research in shamanic origins and development. The literature points to ancient shamanic belief systems having likely played a core role in Native American societies, which developed, diversified, and thrived as “migratory pulses” populated the Americas (Meltzer 2010:xi). This New World migration, presumably with the preservation of shamanic ideology, led to and motivated the discovery of a surprisingly more expansive pharmacopoeia of psychoactive agents than existed in the Old World. The 94

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continual development of these new cultures led to more diverse expressions of ancient shamanic practice. Ethnographic and artifactual evidence provides proof of the survival and eventual kingly integration of shamanic expressions in various pre-Columbian high cultures, such as Maya, Olmec, Teotihuacan, Chimú, Hopewell, and Chacoan. During the initial European contact with many cultures at their apogees, as with the Aztec, Inka, and Mississippians, many written documents recorded firsthand witnessing of shamanic-based religious practices. References to psychoactive substance ingestion are universal throughout these records. N E W W O R L D M I G R AT I O N

To begin my narrative about New World cultures and their core religious frameworks, I am much aided by the relatively recent advances in DNA research and very broad new data in developing the genetic histories of world populations. Although the techniques of genetic research continue to be refined, and in many cases the results rely on theoretical models and the varying accuracies of genetic “clocks,” results can help begin to fill in long-past human histories (Cavalli-Sforza and Feldman 2003; Lee and Ho 2016; Madsen 2015). However, final proof of human history must often wait when direct archaeological evidence is incomplete or lacking. Current archaeological and genetic research points to a continuum of human development and migrations since the rise of genetically and anatomically “modern” humans (Homo sapiens), some 150,000–200,000 years ago (ka) in equatorial Africa (Cavalli-Sforza and Feldman 2003; Demeter et al. 2012; Mellars 2006). Although some genetic data lack archaeological proofing, there seems to be consensus in describing various subsequent migration settings. Coincidental with genetic divergence from ancestral populations in subSaharan Africa at approximately 71–142 ka, bands of humans began multiple migrations out of Africa (Armitage et al. 2011; Balter 2011; Demeter et al. 2012; Mellars 2006; Prugnolle et al. 2005; Zhivotovsky et al. 2003). Genetic diversification and population movements continued over the next 30,000–60,000 years, with some groups migrating eastward, arriving in central and eastern Asia approximately 30–40 ka (Demeter et al. 2012; Madsen 2015; Raghavan et al. 2014; Raghavan et al. 2015; Zhivotovsky et al. 2003). Of particular interest are studies that link the DNA of modern Native Americans primarily to populations from the region of the Altai Mountains in Allopathic Shamanism 95

south-central Siberia (Madsen 2015; Raghavan et al. 2014). In a separate study, Raghavan and colleagues (2015) add a second genetic link from ancient populations along the Southeast Asia coast. Additionally, they conclude that as these groups blended in the region of northeastern Siberia, they genetically diverged from their Siberian ancestors at about 23 ka (also see Zhivotovsky et al. 2003). Ultimately, perhaps 19–20 ka, part of this genetically distinct group began departing Beringia and became the founding population of all present-day indigenous peoples of both North and South America (Raghavan et al. 2015; Wang et al. 2007). The debate concerning whether migrations occurred in a single wave or multiple waves seems unresolved and ongoing up to the time of this writing in the winter of 2017 (von Cramon-Taubadel et al. 2017; Skoglund et al. 2015). Most research supports a Pacific coastal route of migration with occupation sites established along the coast; people reached the remote Monte Verde site in southern Chile possibly as early as 18 ka (Anderson et al. 2013:184; Dillehay et al. 2015; Madsen 2015). From initial colonies along the Pacific coast, migration advanced inland, where population numbers increased, migrant bands diversified, and various Native American societies formed through the following millennia. SHAMANISM: ORIGINS AND CONTINUITY

The scope of this chapter is an overview of a somewhat focused set of features in the history of “classic” shamanism, rather than a comprehensive review of worldwide religious, magico-religious, and other spiritual belief systems. I use the words “shaman” and “shamanism” to preferentially describe concepts that are important to the narrative. While the term “shaman” probably originates from the Tungusic word šamán (Eliade 1972:4), and the age of the word is difficult to track, it seems the most common and useful term in the current literature to gather up and describe various models and features of a particular type of ancient religious development that survives to the present. Tracking the course of shamanism from the Old World into the New, we deal with core ideologies and shamanic structures that are wide-ranging, mysterious, diverse, and complex. E. Jean Matteson Langdon in Portals of Power (1992:7) laments the difficulty in consolidating core themes concerning shamanism, magic, and religion: The problem of the definition of shamanism as religion or as magic has plagued the study of shamanism since the first evolutionary theories in 96

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anthropology. Shamanism was fragmented by separating belief systems from ritual. As an ideological system, it was considered to be an example of animism since shamanic ideology includes the belief in souls of inanimate objects, animate beasts, and humans (Taylor 1871). Within the scheme of cultural evolution, animism represents an archaic survival of primitive religion and mentality of the “lower cultures,” and thus is destined to be replaced by higher forms. . . . In all cases, these views [present] a negative concept of a primitive whose fears block the functioning of his mind (Douglas 1966, 12). Conversely, La Barre (1990:261–64) takes a thoroughly naturalistic approach to address the shamanic origins of religion. He breaks down the core of religious thought into crisis cults of simplistic primitives, who react to stress and anxiety caused by the uncontrollable secular world. He explains constructs of the sacred and secular worlds as simply being awake or sleeping, with the projections of hallucinations as based in REM sleep. In his description of group religion, adherents participate in a group dream, dismiss higher thought and logic, and deny the natural world while yearning for the ideal. Langdon (1992:8) promotes cultural research to seek higher mutations rather than bundling spiritual development into simple crisis cults, but observes that the study of shamanism and its relationship to magic and religion has been sometimes marginalized “by the biased concept of primitive mentality and magic.” Furst (1976:5) concurs that “when studied in depth . . . , the intellectual cultures of some of the materially least complex peoples—African Bushmen, Australian Aborigines, Arctic or tropical-forest hunters, or ‘primitive’ preagricultural Indians of California, for example—have been found to rival in metaphysical complexity and poetic imagery some of the world’s great institutionalized religions.” Further, Wilbert (1987:xii) advances the development of more complex aspects as cultures evolved, with the use of tobacco and other psychoactive drugs catalyzing “the creative imagination and world making capacity of the American Indian.” He writes that the great antiquity of tobacco use in South American cultures “is shown to have played a culture building role.” Eliade (1972) discusses various common traits of shamanic ideology: • entering an ecstatic state of altered consciousness, either self-induced or by ingestion of a psychoactive agent • leaving the body, opening the otherworld portal, and communicating with the spirit world while in an ecstatic state Allopathic Shamanism 97

• treating sickness caused by malevolent spirits • evoking, or transforming into, animal familiars as spirit guides, omens, and message-bearers • magical flight The shaman, as opposed to the priest or ritual specialist, has the unique power of being able to both penetrate the otherworld and manipulate objects, beings, and events therein. This power is amplified by devotees willingly acknowledging—and excluding themselves from—the expertise and skill set required to successfully perform shamanic duties. To complement the review of human migrations into the New World, it is equally important to learn if any elements of core religious development survived as these migrations took place and cultures developed. Although much of shamanism is based in the survival strategies of hunting and hunting magic, further scholarship should pursue evidence of more elegant human behaviors and thinking beyond the crisis cult. A number of researchers argue for not only the antiquity of shamanism, but also the preservation of shamanic practice as the new immigrants settled in the New World (Eliade 1972:336; Furst 1976:4–7). In comprehensive studies, Oxford philologist Michael Witzel (2011, 2012) seeks to place the origins of religious thought very early in the development of Homo sapiens. He proposes two core types of shamanism: the early Gondwana and the slightly younger Laurasian. Relying on comparative studies of world mythologies, with the addition of comparative linguistics and genetic studies, he proposes that the original Gondwana form of shamanism dates to at least 65 ka (perhaps as old as 100 ka) among the humans of equatorial Africa. Subsequently, and coincidental with the genetic divergence among populations migrating northward and eastward, the Laurasian form of shamanism took shape 40–65 ka (see also Cusack 2013). The original elements of Gondwana shamanism traveled with immigrants following southern routes across India and Southeast Asia and into Australia and the South Pacific. They also reside in the mythology and shamanic practices of the San people of southern Africa (Witzel 2011; see also Lewis-Williams 2001; Lewis-Williams et al. 1988). Those elements in the various cultures are still recognized today. “In sum, we are dealing here with a very ancient form of shamanism [i.e., Gondwana] that has undergone some local developments over the past 65,000 years or so but still is remarkably consistent in its forms: 98

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the shamans go into trance through contact with the spirits, they manage ‘heat’ rising up from the lower spine somatically, they move upwards to heaven spiritually (and downwards to the netherworld); they use the powers gained in contact with the spirits for healing and enhancing the hunt” (Witzel 2011:46). The classical, or Siberian, form of shamanism descends from Laurasian shamanic traditions, which were developed by foraging human bands migrating out of Africa into Eurasia and eventually into Siberia and the New World. “To put it explicitly: Laurasian mythology is the outcome of an ancient hunter ideology. It must go back all the way to that of the Upper Paleolithic shamans and to their teachings, which were continuously transmitted to their disciples. It is structured and based on the life-cycle of their prey: killed and reborn animals. This process is seen as paralleling that of the fate of humans—as well as that of the reconstituted and reborn shaman—and of the world at large” (Witzel 2012:393). Hunting magic as a foundation of shamanism may possibly be archaeologically shown as early as 12 ka, with an Upper Paleolithic burial in Israel. Grosman and colleagues (2008: 17665) report on a female burial dating to 12 ka containing dozens of unique grave offerings, including “50 complete tortoise shells and select body-parts of a wild boar, an eagle, a cow, a leopard, and two martens, as well as a complete human foot. The interment rituals and the method used to construct and seal the grave suggest that this is the burial of a shaman, one of the earliest known from the archaeological record.” They also note that since “there are no standard criteria to identify a shaman in the archaeological record, a number of generalizations about shamans can be surmised from cross-cultural research: (a) shamans are associated with spiritual, magical, and healing powers; (b) shamans engage the help of spirits in animal form; (c) shamans are keepers of specialized knowledge; (d) shamans are ascribed high status within their communities; and (e) the status of shamans is reflected in their special treatment at death—their burials often contain artifacts reflecting their role in life (i.e., remains of particular animals and contents of healing kits)” (Grosman et al. 2008:17668). Further archaeological evidence of shamanism is found in the painted and carved surfaces of caves, shelters, and other stone media. Rock art is one of the most ubiquitous artifact groups left by ancient people. In the absence of written language, it is also one of the few types of physical objects, together with other types of art, that can begin to illustrate human thought. Rock art presents the opportunity of “hard science” study, that is, archaeological context, the accurate dating of rock art applications via radiocarbon and other Allopathic Shamanism 99

methods, and the chemistry of materials and techniques used to create rock art. These data can complement the interpretation of imagery through comparative elements of art, art history, and most important, historical and cultural context in order for the rock art and its creators to fully “speak” to us. As part of his narrative of Laurasian shamanic traditions, Witzel (2011) adds that the continuity of “seemingly global” elements seen in “Stone Age” rock art unites Old World and New World shamanism. Among those universal fundamentals is the use of animal familiars and hunting magic. As an important part of shamanic expression, hunting magic and animal familiars are central themes of Old World cave art dating to as early as 14–27 ka (Lewis-Williams 2006). Likewise in North America, cave art depictions of hunting and shamanism date from approximately 4 ka through European contact, with large concentrations in West Texas, the Great Basin of California, and the desert Southwest (see further references in Boyd 2016; Newcomb and Kirkland 1996; Pearson 2002:115; Whitley 1994). Further archaeological evidence and elaboration on the shamanic themes of hunting magic, especially the use of psychoactive substances in ecstatic states, are discussed below. To summarize, Eliade states the generally accepted current views of the links and time line between Eurasian/Siberian and Native American shamanism. Writing prior to migration data from genetic studies and noting the continuity of New World shamanic traditions, even with sparse archaeological evidence, Eliade (1972:333) concludes that “we may assume that a certain form of shamanism spread through the two American continents with the first wave of immigrants, whatever their ‘original home’ may have been.” He also finds the “broad outlines of one and the same shamanic complex from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego” (Eliade 1972:336). He establishes a cultural and shamanic bridge between Siberian and North American populations: “Whatever the truth may be concerning the historical relationships between North Asia and North America, the cultural continuity between the Eskimo and the present Arctic people of Asia and even Europe (Chukchee, Yakut, Samoyed, and Lapps) is beyond the shadow of a doubt” (Eliade 1972:288). SHAMANISM AND DRUG-INDUCED A LT E R E D S TAT E S

Notably, Eliade and Witzel do not stress the importance of psychoactive substances having a key role in shamanic development or practice. However, many 10 0

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researchers note that the use and control of those substances have deep histories in human experience and played a fundamental role in the development and assertion of shamanic power and authority in Native American cultures. The archaeological evidence of early and enduring human associations with psychoactive substances is well documented. Referenced here are only a few examples due to space considerations. Guerra-Doce (2015a:762–67) reviews the archaeological early evidence of fermented preparations, some with psychoactive additives, in Neolithic Europe from 2 ka to 7 ka. She also notes that “not surprisingly most evidence for psychoactive plants in prehistoric times is found in sites linked to ritual activity, such as tombs and ceremonial sites” (Guerra-Doce 2015b:105). Merlin (2003:302, 304–8) also presents archaeological reports of psychoactive plants in the ancient Old World. Interestingly, many reports place Papaver somniferum (opium poppy) throughout Europe at 2.9–5.7 ka, and perhaps as early as 7 ka, as well as in Egypt as early as 3.5 ka. Samorini (1992) interprets African rock art panels as picturing the use of hallucinogenic mushrooms at 7–9 ka. In North American rock art, representations of shamanic use of mescal beans and/or peyote date to 4 ka (Boyd 2016:29; Newcomb and Kirkland 1996:70; Campbell 1958). Archaeological evidence for the use of Sophora secundiflora (psychoactive mescal bean) dates to around 6.5 ka; it was the foundation for the cult of mescalism in North American shamanism (Campbell 1958; Troike 1962). Returning to the narrative of Native American cultural development, an important aspect of the New World environment was the vast number of psychoactive plants and mushrooms that the new arrivals found and exploited. Although the numbers vary by writer, ethnobotanical literature counts more than 80 psychoactive plant sources used in the Americas, while fewer than 10 are known to have been used in the Old World (Schultes et al. 1998:30; Furst 1990:x). Many writers note a statistical majority of such substances, and there also may have existed a cultural predisposition of Native American cultures toward them. La Barre creates a continuum that tracks Native Americans’ cultural motivation to seek out psychoactive substances. Fundamentally “a type of Mesolithic fossil” (La Barre 1990:270), New World shamanic cultures directly descended from Upper Paleolithic Old World hunter magic, and “economic organization and social status everywhere . . . were ultimately based on the invidious ability of hunters to provide shared largesse for their dependents” Allopathic Shamanism 101

(1970:76). As a direct effect, responsibility for the survival of the group was, seemingly willingly, delegated to the person(s) with the most “power”—hunting skills, survival strategies, ability to fend off rivals, and so on. These culture traits are “shared from Alaska to Patagonia” (La Barre 1990:270). Concurrently, “the basic religion in both Americas was the visionary shamanism of hunters (animal familiars, animal ‘owners’) quite like and in fact culture-historically continuous with paleo-Siberian shamanism and the shamanism of Mesolithic Eurasiatic hunting peoples” (La Barre 1970:76). In both Native American and Siberian/Eurasian shamanic cultures, La Barre posits a shared “narcotic complex” based on wild-gathered (i.e., “hunted”) psychoactive mushrooms. The “ecstatic-shamanists . . . valued the psychedelic state; as simple hunters they were under pressure continuously to explore their plant environment for food—and accidental new narcotics.” (La Barre 1970:76). Merlin (2003:296) further elaborates: More fundamentally, La Barre argued that humans, at least in pre-industrial contexts, have been “culturally programmed” to find plants (or fungi) that allow them to communicate with the ancestors (or their spirit world). He suggested that this tradition goes back into the Paleolithic Era, long before the invention of agriculture when people were all hunters and gatherers. According to his thesis, as bands of humans spread out into new regions, including new ecological situations, they carried with them a culturally inspired motivation to find and use species of plants or fungi that would allow them to transcend their “normal” consciousness and enable them to communicate with their ancestors or gods—in essence, their spirit world. (See also Furst 1990:x, 271–72.) Hence, we might consider that the foundations of shamanism are the convergence of • superior hunting ability and survival skills, • the shaman’s ability to capture and harness the power of psychoactive substances in order to perform his responsibilities to the group, and • the willing dependence of the group, which places ultimate survival outcomes in his providence. Subsequent cultural development, diversification, and adaptation have produced innumerable variations and elaborations on the basic shamanic tenets up to the present day. The role of the doctor or healer, the identification of 10 2

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numerous otherworld entities, manifestations of political power, and deification are only a few. “Indeed, the ancient shamans, or ritual specialists, were eventually transformed into the divine kings of Egypt, the rain kings of the Sudan, and the semi-divine weather controllers of South America” (RipinskyNaxon 1989:223). Bringing us into modern times, Merlin reviews a 1970s international cross-cultural literature survey done by Erika Bourguignon (1973). The results show that 90 percent of the surveyed societies practiced “institutionalized, culturally patterned forms [of] altered state[s] of consciousness” (Merlin 2003:296). Significantly, “the highest rates (97%) were among the societies of aboriginal North America” (Merlin 2003:296). Hence, we might conclude that modern descendants of the original indigenous peoples do indeed retain some of the “fossilized” elements of ancient shamanic practice, as noted by La Barre. Considering the proposal that ancient peoples were “culturally programmed” to seek out psychoactive substances and altered states of consciousness, an additional consideration is the proposal that the human neural anatomy and the mind are designed to seek such altered states. Writing in his younger days, the popular author, doctor, and psychoactive drug researcher Andrew Weil (1972:17) states unequivocally, “It is my belief that the desire to alter consciousness periodically is an innate, normal drive analogous to hunger or sexual drive.” The drug-curious Western culture in the 1960s and 1970s may explain Weil’s (and his contemporaries’) emphasis on drug use and altered states of consciousness (Harri Kettunen, pers. comm., 2016). Nonetheless, if Weil gives an accurate assessment of basic brain behavior versus social conditioning, the key internal drives toward the very origins and structure of shamanism are worth considering. Possible clues to the accuracy of Weil’s proposition are explored as I examine the brain’s neuroanatomy and psychopharmacology below. T H E L A N G U A G E O F A LT E R E D S TAT E S

As with developing an understanding of all thoughtful subjects, it is important for the terminology to be defined in order to convey concepts and clarify communication. In considering the topics of tobacco, nicotine, and the resultant altered states of consciousness integral to this chapter, some definitions will help in clarifying the concepts I intend to convey. The term “psychoactive” is preferred to other general terms that designate Allopathic Shamanism 10 3

substances that alter consciousness, that is, “those which act primarily upon the central nervous system where they affect brain function, resulting in temporary changes in perception, mood, consciousness, cognition and behavior” (Guerra-Doce 2015a:751–52). I use the term “hallucinogen” to designate substances that (1) create specific alterations in consciousness with minimal untoward effects, and (2) are associated with activation of the serotonin neuroreceptor system (see Glennon 1994). Nicotine has an important place in the pharmacopoeia of mind-altering substances, but how do we clearly compare and contrast it with other similarly acting substances? Dozens of words with syllables like intox-, stimu-, psycho-, psyche- neuro-, inebri-, stoned, and so on, have struggled to describe the various forms, techniques, and results of mind alteration. Wilbert (1990:55) describes tobacco as not one of the “true” hallucinogens but “often conceptually and functionally indistinguishable from them.” Similarly, Schultes (1990:54) questions the “true hallucinogenic activity” of tobacco and defers to further phytochemical, ethnobotanical, and ethnographic research for better data. Schultes and colleagues (1998:10–14) give a descriptive review of the development, as well as shortcomings, of various words and begin to compartmentalize various agents in classes of true hallucinogens and other psychoactive agents. Schultes’s coauthor and the discoverer of LSD, Albert Hofmann, describes the facets of hallucinogens (“psychedelics”) in the terms of alterations of consciousness without other severe side effects. As I consider below, he hints at the selective nature of the activity of those agents on the neural pathways. The authors also agree on the deep antiquity of the use of hallucinogens and their influence on the development of religious concepts: “Their use goes back so far in prehistory that it has been postulated that perhaps the whole idea of the deity could have arisen as a result of the otherworldly effects of these agents” (Schultes et al. 1998:14). Extending terminology to the divine, the term “entheogen” was advanced by a group led by the researcher in Greek studies Carl A. P. Ruck. In the introduction of his seminal work on (truly hallucinogenic) mushrooms, Wasson (1980:xiv) applies a sacrosanct view, couching the word in a construct that applies well to the consideration of shamanic roots: “God within us,” those plant substances that, when ingested, give one a divine experience, [were] in the past commonly called “hallucinogens,” 10 4

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“psychedelics,” “psychomimetics,” etc., etc., to each of which serious objections can be made. . . . Ruck advances “entheogen” as fully filling the need, notably catching the rich cultural resonances evoked by the substances, many of them fungal, over vast areas of the world in proto- and prehistory. . . . Early humans, throughout much of Eurasia and the Americas, discovered the properties of these substances and regarded them with profound respect and even awe, hedging them about with bonds of secrecy. We are now rediscovering the secret, and we should treat the entheogens with the respect to which they were richly entitled. As we undertake to explore their role in the early history of religion we should call them by a name unvulgarized by hippie abuse. To contrast the broad range of terms describing the equally broad range of psychoactive agents, a more succinct set of criteria should be applied to the differentiation and definition of true hallucinogens. Glennon (1994:4) guides us toward some clarity: What constitutes a hallucinogen? There have been various attempts to define the term “hallucinogenic,” but none of the definitions seems to adequately, accurately, and completely describe the actions of these agents. One of the better definitions—actually, a set of criteria—is provided by Hollister (1968:17–18): 1. in proportion to other effects, changes in thought, reception, and mood should predominate; 2. intellectual or memory impairment should be minimal; 3. stupor, narcosis or excessive stimulation should not be an integral effect; 4. autonomic nervous system side effects should be minimal; and 5. addictive craving should be absent. Considering these criteria defining true hallucinogens versus other psychoactive agents, key components can be derived from their effects on the brain and neural pathways. The causes and ranges of neurological changes, along with the presence or absence of numerous untoward side effects, help with clear differentiations.

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R E C E P TO R - B A S E D AC T I V I T Y: T H E L O C K - A N D - K E Y P AT H W AY S

Virtually nothing happens in the human central nervous system (CNS) without the moderation of some type of endogenous receptor, which is activated by a complementary agonist, also called a ligand (figures 5.2, 5.3). Most neural, muscular, and endocrine functions (among others) are commenced, ceased, and otherwise regulated by the interaction of receptor systems. Additionally, many therapeutic or toxic alterations of homeostasis (that is, the balance of various bodily systems that provide physical and mental well-being) are likewise moderated by various receptor systems (see Ross 1996:29–37). I here review the cholinergic and serotonergic systems, which are subunits of the CNS. Ligands that interact with receptors of these systems may be naturally occurring internal (endogenous) agents called neurotransmitters or external (exogenous) agents. A key consideration is that most endogenous neurotransmitters bind to and activate numerous different classes of receptor groups within their unique divisions of the CNS. Exogenous agents (i.e., drugs) introduced into the body may have the unique molecular structure and polarity that are required in order to chemically bind to nerve receptors. Unlike the endogenous neurotransmitters, however, they may bind to a more select group of receptors and act much more elegantly than the broad range of activities moderated by endogenous agents.

F I G U R E 5. 2  The molecular structures of acetylcholine and nicotine, shown with receptor spatial conformations (Rs) and binding sites (arrows). Adapted from Blum et al. 2010.

FIG U R E 5.3  The molecular structures of

LSD and serotonin, shown with receptor spatial conformations (Rs) and binding sites (arrows). Adapted from McBride 2000.

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Acetylcholine and Nicotine

In this chapter, my interest in the activity of nicotine on body functions centers on the nicotinic receptors of the cholinergic nervous system (see Hoffman et al. 1996:115–19). The endogenous neurotransmitter of this division of the CNS is acetylcholine (ACh). In a self-regulated system, ACh binds to and activates all of the numerous cholinergic receptors, both nicotinic and muscarinic (each has five distinct receptor types), some of which regulate and balance overall homeostasis. Also important is the nearly instantaneous hydrolysis and deactivation of ACh at the receptor site by its complementary metabolic agent, acetylcholinesterase (AChE). The time interval required for hydrolysis is less than one millisecond (Hoffman et al. 1996:115). Generally, the firing rate in the CNS, that is, the time it takes for a neurotransmitter to activate a receptor and the nerve membrane to send its signal downstream (to depolarize) and then repolarize when ACh is metabolized, is in the realm of milliseconds. This extremely rapid activation-deactivation balance is one of the key elements of a properly functioning neural system. In considering the profound and long-lasting effects of some psychoactive drugs, nicotine in this case, two elements are important. First, rather than activating an entire array of similar (and sometimes mutually regulating) neuroreceptors, as we see with ACh, nicotine’s molecular structure allows it to bind selectively only to the nicotinic class of ACh receptors, thereby activating a smaller component of the cholinergic nervous system. Indeed, “nicotine binds to brain tissues with high affinity, and the receptor binding capacity is increased in smokers compared with nonsmokers. Increase in the binding is caused by a higher number of nicotinic cholinergic receptors in the brain of the smokers” (Benowitz et al. 2009:31). Hence, chronic tobacco users feel heightened effects because their brains have produced more nicotinic receptors, an important point when considering tobacco in chronic ritual use. Paramount for my review of this cascade of neural activity is that one of the key effects activated by nicotine is the release of the neurotransmitter dopamine within the brain’s ventral tegmental area (VTA), signaling a “pleasurable experience” (Benowitz 2009:59). This activation, in turn, causes co-stimulation of the brain’s prefrontal cortex (PFC). Wu and colleagues (2013:1173) propose “a new hypothesis that PFC-VTA functional coupling serves as an integration mechanism for nicotine reward. Allopathic Shamanism 107

Moreover, addiction may develop due to nicotine perturbing the PFC-VTA coupling and thereby eliminating the PFC-dependent cognitive control over behavior.” In other words, taken at therapeutic (nontoxic) levels, nicotine in the brain stimulates a “reward” sensation or “pleasure center” while suppressing the naturally occurring neural balance to stop taking the drug, that is, facilitating addiction. Second, nicotine is not subject to metabolism by AChE. Nicotine is metabolized and cleared from the body primarily by liver enzymes and also in the lung and kidney (Benowitz 2009:61; Taylor 1996:192–93). Although this metabolism occurs somewhat rapidly, the clearing process is dependent on blood-borne nicotine being transported through these organs multiple times. With a plasma half-life of approximately two hours (Benowitz 2009:61; Benowitz et al. 2009:48), blood-borne nicotine is available at liver metabolic sites on the order of minutes or hours, versus the milliseconds of metabolic time that we see with ACh/AChE. Thus, the concentration of nicotine at the receptor sites remains relatively high and its effects are much prolonged, that is, nicotine molecules continue to be bound to the receptor sites and the nerves continue to fire until, because of continuous ligand attachment, the receptor structure is degraded and inactivated. This delayed metabolic process not only prolongs the activation of the pleasure center, but also allows an accumulation of toxic levels of nicotine with continued ingestion. Nicotine toxicity is caused by continued ingestion of its source, usually tobacco, leading to the prolonged, unregulated stimulation of all nicotinic receptors and their related autonomic nerves, including those that help control heart rhythm. This toxicity leads to nausea, vomiting, salivation, abdominal pain, diarrhea, vision and hearing disturbances, mental confusion, and fatigue. Continued overdose progresses to symptoms of nicotine poisoning, including cardiovascular collapse and rapid death (Taylor 1996:193). Paradoxically, these toxic consequences of overdose, even as they overwhelm any pleasure sensation, could be misinterpreted as part of the alterations of consciousness sought in shamanic ritual. Additionally, various ceremonial or ritual routes of ingestion, such as enema or nasal infusion, can enhance nicotine’s activity and exacerbate toxicity (de Smet 1985). Regardless, nicotine’s stimulation of CNS pleasure centers, offset by the many profound side effects, disqualifies the drug from the “hallucinogen” designation.

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Serotonin and LSD

To complement the discussion of psychoactive versus hallucinogenic terminology and to compare and contrast with the scenario of the ACh-nicotine relationship, the case of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) is helpful. LSD is the best known and most powerful member of a significant class of true hallucinogens, which activate parts of the serotonin receptor (serotonergic) system of the CNS. Many of these substances and their plant sources have played essential roles in the development of various Native American cultures (table 5.1). Unlike naturally occurring nicotine, LSD is a semi-synthetic product based on chemical manipulation of the naturally occurring ergot alkaloids. The story of Swiss biochemist Albert Hofmann’s accidental self-administration of his newly synthesized drug is well recounted in academic and popular literature. Likewise, the path of LSD through secret governmental testing on unsuspecting subjects and other nefarious plots and then its essential role in the flourishing of the 1960s drug culture is deeply embedded in Western popular culture (see Furst 1976:58–60). Similar to the cholinergic receptors, there are at least 14 distinct serotonin (5-hydroxytryptamine, 5-HT) receptors in the CNS, with subtypes 5-HT1 through 5-HT7 and further subclassifications, including 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C. The 5-HT receptors moderate biological activity throughout the body, including the brain, smooth muscles, blood platelets, peripheral nerves, and other organs (Sanders-Bush and Mayer 1996:251).

TA B L E 5.1

A Brief List of New World Hallucinogens and Their Sources

C OM M O N N A M E ( S )

SCIEN TIFIC N AM E

ACT IVE AGENT (S)

Peyote cactus

Lophophora williamsii

mescaline

Psilocybin mushroom

Psilocybe mexicana Heim

psilocybin, psilocin

Yagé, yajé, ayahuasca

Banisteriopsis caapi

harmine

Yopo

Anadenanthera peregrina

N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT), 5-methoxy-DMT

Ololiuhque, morning glory Turbina corymbosa

lysergic acid amide, lysergic acid hydroxyethylamide

Source: Schultes et al. 1998.

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Important to this chapter is the high level of serotonin-moderated activity in the cerebral cortex, especially the prefrontal cortex. The prefrontal cortex has been established as the seat of consciousness, abstract ideas, reasoning, memory, and other high-order cognitive functions (Bloom 1996:268; Marieb 1992:388). A very large body of research in both cellular-level and molecular-level neuroanatomy and neurological function has developed since the 1990s. Extensive study has been aimed at determining the relationships among serotonin receptors, their various ligands, and specific brain activities (Glennon 1994; Glennon and Dukat 1995; Glennon et al. 1994; Glennon et al. 1991; Glennon and Young 2011; Sanders-Bush and Mayer 1996). Experimental evidence points to the specific links between the high selective affinity of LSD and other proven hallucinogens and the 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C receptors (Fiorella et al. 1995a, b, c; Sanders-Bush and Mayer 1996:258–59). As with endogenous ACh, serotonin activates all of the 5-HT classes of receptors with various affinities and resultant regulatory processes. Although LSD is a ligand to various 5-HT receptors, it is most active at the 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C receptors. It is the selective superactivity at these two receptors, as well as both receptors firing in unison, that purportedly moderates the “hallucinogenic signature” in the brain (see McBride 2000 for further review). Similar to the pharmacokinetics of nicotine metabolism, LSD is metabolized by liver enzymes (Klette et al. 2000; Cai and Henion 1996) and not the endogenous enzyme monoamine oxidase (MAO), which metabolizes 5-HT to inactive metabolites. Hence, the similar scenario of delayed metabolic inactivation leading to extended receptor activity may play an important role in the profound hallucinations produced by LSD. In varying degrees, these same 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C receptor co-affinities are exhibited by all of the true hallucinogenic agents (Glennon and Dukat 1995:424; Glennon and Young 2011:189–92). However, differing levels in response may be caused by variations in molecular structure, ability to cross the blood-brain barrier after ingestion, preparation of the source plant, and method of ingestion. Significantly, neurological responses moderated by simultaneous 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C receptor activity are generally limited to alterations of consciousness and lack significant other side effects (Sanders-Bush and Mayer 1996:258–59). This fits well with the definition and criteria for true hallucinogens proposed by Hollister (1968). Additionally, it gives us a platform for the 110

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appreciation of and differentiation between psychoactive agents and true hallucinogens, both of which were integrated into Native American religion and ritual. S H A M A N I C E X P R E S S I O N I N T H E C L A S S I C M AYA

Through centuries of archaeology, linguistics, DNA studies, and ethnography, we know many details about Native American peoples and about events of the interim period between the founding migratory pulse(s) and European contact. The time line is informed by the development of various types of stone tools; the diversification of languages; evidence of migration, settlement, and city building; and the survival of pre-Columbian writing and artistic systems. In particular, the Maya, with the highest form of writing in the ancient Americas, have passed on much information. Hieroglyphs and imagery carved on stone, wooden, and other surviving objects, painted murals, ceramic and stone vessels, and, sadly, few painted books (codices) illuminate millennia of Maya history, social stratification, science, religious beliefs, and daily life. Considering the expression of shamanic constructs in Maya culture, some background is provided by La Barre (1990). He discusses the transition of an “anxiety structure” in the New World from the foundation of hunting societies to the societies of settled Neolithic agriculturalists. Although the expected shamanic focus may have changed from successful hunting to concerns about the weather, “American Indians (to some degree even in the high agricultural centers) kept in their religion the characteristic shamanism of hunters” (La Barre 1990:278). Such hunting magic, together with other common shamanic aspects, including ecstatic consciousness, association with an animal familiar, portal penetration, and otherworld travel, provides clues to the framework of Maya royal power. The entity known as the way (pl. wayob) is found often in hieroglyphic writing. Schele and Mathews (1998:417) define the way or nawal as “the name of the animal or spirit companion that shared the soul of human beings. Great sorcerers and kings could transform into their wayob. The glyph can also mean ‘to dream’ and ‘to transform into one’s animal-spirit companion’” (see also Coe and Van Stone 2001:121). Friedel and colleagues (1993:192) expand the concept: “The ancient Maya transformed into their wayob when they fought their wars, and they very likely saw the planets and constellations as wayob of the gods and their ancestors.” Allopathic Shamanism 111

However, “among the Yukatek-speaking Maya of Quintana Roo, the ancient concept of way—the spirit companion of gods, ancestors, kings, and queens— connotes an evil, transforming witch, a person to be feared rather than admired” (192). Conversely, among present-day Maya, the village shaman opens the portal to procure yitz-ka’anil, “the magic stuff that the shaman brings through the portal to the Otherworld . . . to nourish and sustain humanity in all its diversity” (51). Most commonly, the wayob are shown and named on polychrome ceramic vessels as graphic depictions of eerie supernatural animal or quasi-human entities in underworld scenes. These highly prized vessels were royal objects to be gifted to other royals or placed in the grave to accompany the owner into the otherworld. The hieroglyphs often name both the way and the human who was transformed into their spirit companion. Justin Kerr, in his extraordinary rollout photo documentation of Maya vases, presents more than 60 examples of underworld scenes that include wayob, their names, and depictions of the ecstatic state that the entities have entered. Additionally, Kerr presents another group of vases depicting kings and important members of their courts whose faces and bodies are shown in profile through cutaway or “x-ray” depictions of their masks and other garb. Though not seen in the underworld context, the actors have fully transformed into wayob and are sometimes portrayed in the preparation for or aftermath of war events and taking captives (see research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya.html). The ancient shamanic expression of hunting magic is seen in the context of royal Maya warfare. The very origin of shamanic authority was the power of the shaman to produce a successful hunt for the benefit of the band. An ancient shaman could transform into an animal spirit and capture another animal soul to assure success. In the real hunt, the captured animal was killed (sacrificed), the band was fed, and the shaman’s power was validated (La Barre 1970). Projecting those ancient scenarios onto the framework of a complex citystate ruled by a divine king, with the added agriculturalist anxiety structure of crop failure, correlations can be proposed. Although the population of the band had increased from perhaps several family units to thousands, and social complexity had introduced the importance of the royal lineage, security of the food supply (and therefore territory) remained the primary responsibility of the king. Additionally, in the Maya hierarchy, the shaman has been elevated to k’uhul 11 2

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jaw (“holy lord” or “divine king”) (Coe and Van Stone 2001:74). Hence, while projecting power as a secular ruler, he retains the deeper-seated power of a spiritual sovereign and is expected to fulfill the same shamanic duties as in more ancient times. Warfare throughout the various periods of Maya culture seemingly had a double purpose. Wars of conquest achieved the expansion of dominance and tribute, while the much-ritualized part of warfare had the goal of taking captives who were members of various courtly or political hierarchies, including the opposing king. The sacrificial killing of important captives not only asserted military and political dominance, but also propitiated the gods at times of initiation of a new dynastic family member or a kingly inauguration, thus securing dynastic survival (Sharer 1994:543–44). The construct of ritual warfare and the resultant sacrificial killing illustrate the shamanic expressions and hunting magic that are important to this chapter. First, the use of psychoactive agents in Maya high culture is well documented in many objects of art and other artifacts. Especially as seen on polychrome vases, courtly individuals and groups participate in drinking, smoking, and enema scenes. While some seem to be obvious scenes of inebriated pleasure and “partying,” many show the wayob transformations I described above. Indeed, some ecstatic scenes involve otherworld gods themselves. Reviews of such vase imagery, along with the related use of tobacco and other psychoactive substances, are presented by de Smet (1985), Robicsek (1978), and Furst and Coe (1977). Imagery of the x-ray depiction of wayob transformation, warfare preparation, and psychoactive substance administration is presented in a study of a Maya vase formerly in the collection of the San Antonio Museum of Art (McBride 2003). Known as “The Enema Pot” to museum patrons, the vase’s scene shows the local king of the Ik’ site, Yajaw-te’ K’inich, and another lord, who are viewed in x-ray imagery and fully transformed into the wayob of huge toads. Both hold large enema clysters, seemingly having been administered the transforming agents in them. Warfare iconography is depicted by both lords’ “cropped feather” war bonnets (Van Stone 1996) and the Teotihuacan war badges worn by the attendant courtly women (figure 5.4). After the successful capture of the hunted animals—in this case, the captive humans—they are killed. In the original ritual context, the killed animal is eaten to sustain the band. In the case of Maya performance, the human captive is ritually killed: their heart is extracted, they are beheaded, or they suffer some other type of bloody death. In the Postclassic capital of Chichen Itza, “in times Allopathic Shamanism 113

F I G U R E 5.4  Vessel with procession, ca. AD

600, Maya culture, Guatemala. Polychromed earthenware. Courtesy of the San Antonio Museum of Art.

of famine, epidemic, or prolonged drought, victims were hurled into . . . the Cenote of Sacrifice” (Sharer 1994:545). This is the performance of the ultimate principle of the ritual, allowing the victim’s heart, blood, or entire body to be “eaten” by the gods that the ritual is meant to propitiate. Considering the integration of the ancient hunting magic with more recent agriculturalist concerns with benevolent weather, I note that one of the oldest and most important Maya gods who was often the intended recipient of ritual sacrifice was Chaak. Generally considered the Maya rain god (Montgomery 2002:54; Martin and Grube 2000:15), Chaak is closely identified with war and sacrifice. His powerful battle weapon is a violent aspect of weather, the lightning ax, and he is often shown on Classic period vases using his ax to sacrifice underworld beings (Taube 1992:17–27; also see Kerr, http://www.mayavase .com, nos. 521, 555, 1003, 1199). As ultimate shamanic projections, living kings took on the guise of being transformed into Chaak, as shown on stone monuments, such as the Hauberg stela (Schele and Miller 1986:191) and Yaxchilan Stela 11 (Martin and Grube 2000:131). DISCUSSION

Centuries of thoughtful study have given us reasonably secure evidence of the ancient foundations of shamanism. Constant survival pressure fostered the 114

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elevation of the individual(s) demonstrating superior hunting success. Ongoing hunting success advanced the tradition of hunting magic, an agreed-upon relationship between the most skilled provider and the group. Hunting magic and survival strategies were simultaneously integrated with the use of psychoactive mushrooms and other substances, perhaps influenced by the innate need to seek altered states of consciousness. Combining the power of leading successful hunting—and therefore survival—with the power to control magical and sometimes deadly psychoactive substances prospectively produced the foundations of shamanic tradition. The Eurasian origins of shamanism were likely facilitated by the availability of hallucinogenic mushrooms, including Amanita muscaria, “perhaps man’s oldest hallucinogen” (Schultes and Hofmann 1992:34). Shamanic practice and authority were carried with human migration from Eurasian and Siberian core populations across Paleolithic Beringia. Entering the Americas, ancient people continued to hunt and forage and culturally retained their religious roots in shamanism, which were continually sustained by the discovery and use of hallucinogenic mushrooms, psychoactive plants, fermented liquids, and possibly toad toxins. Reaching the boundaries of the Atlantic shore and Tierra del Fuego within a few millennia (Adovasio and Pedler 2016:216–35, 274–85; Politis et al. 2016), they discovered and integrated new sources of psychoactive and hallucinogenic ecstasy from local ecosystems. As cultures developed, they adapted to their various environments, they responded to competition for territory and resources, and some eventually settled into agriculture-based centers. Concurrently, the core shamanic structures evolved in indigenous societies, closely preserved in some and adapted to various environmental, economic, and social developmental pressures in others. Since a strong modifier of shamanic structure would be the individuals who held power in the group, further local adaptation should be expected. As higher societies built cities, created art, and recorded their histories, the abundance of artifactual and ethnographic evidence of the survival of core shamanic traditions grew. The recording and practice of those traditions continued through the European contact period and to the present day. However, less secure is our understanding of human behavior, especially concerning the purported culturally programmed behavior of actively seeking psychoactive substances and the need for attainment of altered consciousness. The study of human consciousness retains a great tension in core questions. Allopathic Shamanism 115

Esoteric and perhaps unanswerable questions remain of how and why human neural systems were somehow designed to actualize altered states of consciousness or perception. We are led to the prospect that the human mind evolved to recognize, embrace, and seek out altered consciousness states and their causative agents. However, understanding the mechanisms of the actions of hallucinogens (like LSD) and the specific neural arrangement required to produce the true hallucinogenic state does not answer Weil’s (1972) statement of an evolutionary imprint motivating the search for that state. Is the need to experience altered states “learned” from society and the environment, or is it a way that the mind interprets the variety of neurochemical states in the brain? Does the human mind somehow conclude that there is a state beyond the experience of the physical environment, and then seeks it? Is it a coincidence that various exogenous (totally foreign) substances found in the natural world can elucidate more profound changes in human consciousness than any endogenous agent is designed to do? Likewise, is the attainment of the true hallucinogenic state fabricated by the profoundly (chemically) confused mind because it doesn’t know where it is or what really caused it to be there? And why does this experience, even if it is a rare neurochemical arrangement, exist in the first place? Is the seemingly universal human need to seek the spiritual or some higher state of existence merely the behavior of a “high-order animal” responding to the deep anxiety of basic survival? Or do the higher mind functions of reason, logic, and creativity play roles in the total denial—or the continued pursuit—of the spiritual? CONCLUSION: THE PRINCE OF FLOWERS

To conclude this chapter, the ancient Aztecs offer a material witness of human expression and psychoactive-based experience. Doubtless, one of the most expressive objects of ancient Mesoamerican art is the statue of the Aztec god Xochipilli in the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City (figure 5.5). He is the Nahuatl Prince of Flowers or the God of Rapture (Wasson 1980:59). An elegant description and interpretation are provided by R. Gordon Wasson (1980:57–78) in his study of hallucinogenic mushrooms in ancient and modern Mesoamerica. He makes an interesting assessment, comparing the Rosetta Stone, which allowed modern Western scholars to read ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, with the complex iconography of Xochipilli, which 116

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FIG U RE 5 .5  Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers. Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City. Photo by Antony Stanley, used under Creative Commons AttributionShare-Alike 2.0 license.

“discloses the exalted view of the entheogens held by the Mesoamericans in pre-Conquest times” (Wasson 1980:73). In the tradition of Xipe Totec, the flayed god, the figure’s face and body are covered by a second skin, evidence of the apotheosis of its wearer (Pasztory 1983:226–27). The figure’s masked face portrays both the seeking and the revelation of ecstatic tension. The mask and skin enlighten us that the entity depicted may essentially be a human being, but the humanness is overlaid and overtaken by the ecstatic state. “The skyward tilt of the head and eyes, tense half-open mouth, jutting jaw, hands poised at different levels, crossed legs with feet almost wholly off the ground, the strain expressed by the retraction of the right big toe—they are all part of the piece” (Wasson 1980:57). The source of the ecstasy that he is experiencing is clearly explained. His body is adorned with carvings of flowers and cutaway profiles of hallucinogenic and psychoactive plants and fungi. Teonanacatl mushrooms (Psilocybe sp.), tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum), the ololiuhqui or morning glory (Turbina corymbosa), and other revered flora beautify his limbs and torso. On his headdress, surrounding a depiction of a hallucinogenic mushroom, are the symbols of the Nahuatl tonallo and tlapapalli. In the synthesis of ecstatic emotions and the causative agents portrayed in the composition, tonallo “connotes the summer season, solar warmth, light, butterflies, and xochitl” (flowers). This is reinforced by tlapapalli, “supreme joy, bliss incomparable” (Wasson 1980:64; see Allopathic Shamanism 117

also www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/aztec/interactive/index.html for a grand visual experience of the Prince of Flowers). The captured moment of Xochipilli’s ecstasy also captures our thoughts about the sublime blissful states that the human mind is able to attain. Freed from worldly stress, our consciousness can soar unbound. But Xochipilli also reminds us of the mystery: is this ecstatic place merely a human construct or an enchanted otherworld that is only occasionally glimpsed?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to Jennifer Loughmiller-Cardinal and Keith Eppich, both accomplished researchers, for the opportunity to explore a number of diverse topics that have been of great personal interest and study for many years. Thanks also to F. Kent Reilly, a great scholar and motivator, who first launched my interest in Mesoamerican ethnopharmacology many years ago. The late Peter T. Furst was a friend and patient listener as I struggled at understanding many esoteric concepts of psychopharmacology and shamanism. Finally, many thanks to my friend and colleague Harri Kettunen, who provided a great deal of advice and critique in the development of this work. Any errors, omissions, or other faults are solely mine.

REFERENCES CITED Adovasio, James M., and David Pedler 2016 Strangers in a New Land: What Archaeology Reveals about the First Americans. Buffalo, NY: Firefly. Anderson, David G., Thaddeus G. Bissett, and Stephen J. Yerka 2013 The Late-Pleistocene Human Settlement of Interior North America: The Role of Physiography and Sea-Level Change. In Paleoamerican Odyssey, ed. Kelly E. Graff, Carolyn Vetron, and Michael R. Waters, 183–203. College Station, TX: Center for the Study of First Americans. Armitage, S. J., et al. 2011 The Southern Route “Out of Africa”: Evidence for an Early Expansion of Modern Humans into Arabia. Science 331(6016):453–56. Balter, Michael 2011 Was North Africa the Launch Pad for Modern Human Migrations? Science 331:20–23.

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Benowitz, Neal L. 2009 Pharmacology of Nicotine: Addiction, Smoking-Induced Disease, and Therapeutics. Annual Review of Pharmacology and Toxicology 49:57–71. Benowitz, Neal L., Janne Hukkanen, and Peyton Jacob III 2009 Nicotine Chemistry, Metabolism, Kinetics and Biomarkers. In Handbook of Experimental Pharmacology, ed. Jack E. Henningfield, Edythe D. London, and Sakire Pogun, 29–60. Berlin: Springer. Bloom, Floyd E. 1996 Neurotransmission and the Central Nervous System. In Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. J. Hardman and L. Limbird, 267–94. New York: McGraw-Hill. Blum, A. P., H. A. Lester, and D. A. Dougherty 2010 Nicotinic Pharmacophore: The Pyridine N of Nicotine and Carbonyl of Acetylcholine Hydrogen Bond across a Subunit Interface to a Backbone NH. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 107(30):13206–11. Boyd, Carolyn E. 2016 The White Shaman Mural: An Enduring Creation Narrative in the Rock Art of the Lower Pecos. Austin: University of Texas Press. Bourguignon, Erika, ed. 1973 Religion, Altered States of Consciousness, and Social Change. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. Cai, J., and J. Henion 1996 Elucidation of LSD in Vitro Metabolism by Liquid Chromatography and Capillary Electrophoresis Couples with Tandem Mass Spectrometry. Journal of Analytical Toxicolology 20(1):27–37. Campbell, T. N. 1958 Origin of the Mescal Bean Cult. American Anthropologist 60:156–60. Cavalli-Sforza, L., and M. W. Feldman 2003 The Application of Molecular Genetic Approaches to the Study of Human Evolution. Supplement, Nature Genetics 33:266–75. Coe, Michael, and Mark Van Stone 2001 Reading the Maya Glyphs. London: Thames and Hudson. Cusack, C. M. 2013 Review of E. J. Michael Witzel: The Origins of the World’s Mythologies. Journal of Religious History 37:416–17. doi:10.1111/1467-9809.12061. Demeter, Fabrice, et al. 2012 Anatomically Modern Human in Southeast Asia (Laos) by 46 Ka. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 109(3):14375–80.

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de Smet, Peter A. G. M. 1985 Ritual Enemas and Snuffs in the Americas. Amsterdam: Center for Latin American Research and Documentation. Dillehay, Tom D., et al. 2015 Correction: New Archaeological Evidence for an Early Human Presence at Monte Verde, Chile. PLoS ONE 10(12):e0145471. doi:10.1371/journal. pone.0145471. Eliade, Mircea 1972 Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Fiorella, D., R. A. Rabin, and J. C. Winter 1995a The Role of the 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C Receptors in the Stimulus Effect of Hallucinogenic Drugs I: Antagonist Correlation Analysis. Psychopharmacology 121:347–56. 1995b The Role of the 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C Receptors in the Stimulus Effect of Hallucinogenic Drugs II: Reassessment of LSD False Positives. Psychopharmacology 121:357–63. 1995c The Role of the 5-HT2A and 5-HT2C Receptors in the Stimulus Effect of Hallucinogenic Drugs III: The Mechanistic Basis for Supersensitivity to the LSD Stimulus Following Serotonin Depletion. Psychopharmacology 121:364–72. Friedel, David A., Linda Schele, and Joy Parker 1993 Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman’s Path. New York: Morrow. Furst, Peter T. 1976 Hallucinogens and Culture. Novato, CA: Chandler and Sharp. 1990 Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of Hallucinogens. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Furst, Peter T., and Michael D. Coe 1977 Ritual Enemas. Natural History 86(3):88–91. Glennon, R. A. 1994 Classical Hallucinogens: An Introductory Overview. In Hallucinogens: An Update, ed. G. C. Lin and R. A. Glennon, 4–31. Washington, DC: National Institute on Drug Abuse. Glennon, R. A., and M. Dukat 1995 Serotonin Receptor Subtypes. In Psychopharmacology: The Fourth Generation of Progress, ed. F. E. Bloom and D. J. Kupfer, 415–29. New York: Raven Press. Glennon, R. A., et al. 1994 Influence of Amine Substitutes on 5-HT2A versus 5-HT2C Binding of 120

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Phenylalkyl- and Indolylalkylamines. Journal of Medicinal Chemistry 37(13):1929–35. Glennon, R. A., R. B. Westkaemper, and P. Bartyzel 1991 Medicinal Chemistry of Serotonergic Agents. In Serotonin Receptor Subtypes: Basic and Clinical Aspects, ed. S. J. Peroutka, 19–64. New York: Wiley-Liss. Glennon, Richard A., and Richard Young 2011 Drug Discrimination and Mechanisms of Drug Action. In Drug Discrimination: Applications to Medicinal Chemistry and Drug Studies, ed. Richard A. Glennon and Richard Young, 183–216. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Grosman, Leore, Natalie D. Munro, and Anna Belfer-Cohen 2008 A 12,000-Year-Old Shaman Burial from the Southern Levant (Israel). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 105(46):17665–69. doi:10.1073/pnas.0806030105. Guerra-Doce, Elisa 2015a The Origins of Inebriation: Archaeological Evidence of the Consumption of Fermented Beverages and Drugs in Prehistoric Eurasia. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 22:751–82. doi:10.1007/s10816-014 -9205-z. 2015b Psychoactive Substances in Prehistoric Times: Examining the Archaeological Evidence. Time and Mind 8(1):91–112. Hoffman, Brian B., Robert J. Lefkowitz, and Palmer Taylor 1996 Neurotransmission: The Autonomic and Somatic Motor Nervous Systems. In Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. J. Hardman and L. Limbird, 105–39. New York: McGraw-Hill. Hollister, Leo E. 1968 Chemical Psychoses: LSD and Related Drugs. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas. Klette, K. L., et al. 2000 Metabolism of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide (LSD) to 2-Oxo-3-Hydroxy LSD (O-H-LSD) in Human Liver Microsomes and Cryopreserved Human Hepatocytes. Journal of Analytical Toxicology 24(7):550–56. La Barre, Weston 1970 Old and New World Narcotics: A Statistical Question and an Ethnological Reply. Economic Botany 24(1):73–80. 1990 Hallucinogens and the Shamanic Origins of Religion. In Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of Hallucinogens, ed. Peter T. Furst, 261–78. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Langdon, E. Jean Matteson 1992 Shamanism and Anthropology. In Portals of Power: Shamanism in Allopathic Shamanism 1 21

South America, ed. E. Jean Matteson Langdon and Gerhard Baer, 1–21. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Lee, Michael S. Y., and Simon Y. W. Ho 2016 Molecular Clocks. Current Biology 26(10):R399–R402. Lewis-Williams, J. D. 2001 Southern African Shamanistic Rock Art in Its Social and Cognitive Contexts. In The Archaeology of Shamanism, ed. Neil S. Price, 17–39. New York: Routledge. 2006 The Evolution of Theory, Method and Technique in Southern African Rock Art Research. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 13(4):343–77. Lewis-Williams, J. D., et al. 1988 The Signs of All Times: Entoptic Phenomena in Upper Palaeolithic Art [and Comments and Reply]. Current Anthropology 29(2):201–45. Madsen, David B. 2015 A Framework for the Initial Occupation of the Americas. PaleoAmerica 1(3):217–50. Marieb, Elaine N. 1992 Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2nd ed. Redwood City, CA: Benjamin/ Cummings. Martin, Simon, and Nikolai Grube 2000 Chronicle of the Maya Kings and Queens: Deciphering the Dynasties of the Ancient Maya. London: Thames and Hudson. McBride, Michael 2000 Bufotenine: Toward an Understanding of Possible Psychoactive Mechanisms. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs 32(3):321–31. 2003 X-Ray Toads and “The Enema Pot”: A Maya Vase in the San Antonio Museum of Art. Human Mosaic 34(1–2):15–23. Mellars, Paul 2006 Why Did Modern Human Populations Disperse from Africa ca. 60,000 Years Ago? A New Model. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 103(25):9381–86. Meltzer, David J. 2010 First Peoples in a New World: Colonizing Ice Age America. Berkeley: University of California Press. Merlin, M. D. 2003 Archaeological Evidence for the Tradition of Psychoactive Plant Use in the Old World. Economic Botany 57(3):295–323. Montgomery, John 2002 Dictionary of Maya Hieroglyphs. New York: Hippocrene.

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Newcomb, W. W. Jr., and Forrest Kirkland 1996 The Rock Art of Texas Indians. Austin: University of Texas Press. Pasztory, Esther 1983 Aztec Art. New York: Abrams. Pearson, James L. 2002 Shamanism and the Ancient Mind. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira. Politis, G. G., et al. 2016 The Arrival of Homo sapiens into the Southern Cone at 14,000 Years Ago. PLoS ONE 11(9):e0162870. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0162870. Prugnolle, Franck, Andrea Manica, and François Balloux 2005 Geography Predicts Neutral Genetic Diversity of Human Populations. Current Biology 15(5):R159–60. Raghavan, Maanasa, Pontus Skoglund, et al. 2014 Upper Palaeolithic Siberian Genome Reveals Dual Ancestry of Native Americans. Nature 505(7481):87–91. Raghavan, Maanasa, Matthias Steinrücken, et al. 2015 Genomic Evidence for the Pleistocene and Recent Population History of Native Americans. Science 349:aab3884. doi:10.1126/science.aab3884. Ripinsky-Naxon, Michael 1989 Hallucinogens, Shamanism, and the Cultural Process: Symbolic Archaeology and Dialectics. Anthropos 84:219–24. Robicsek, Francis 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Ross, Elliott M. 1996 Pharmacodynamics: Mechanisms of Drug Action and the Relationship between Drug Concentration and Effect. In Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. J. Hardman and L. Limbird, 29–41. New York: McGraw-Hill. Samorini, Giorgio 1992 The Oldest Representation of Hallucinogenic Mushrooms in the World (Sahara Desert, 9000–7000 B.P.). Integration (2–3):69–78. Sanders-Bush, Elaine, and Steven E. Mayer 1996 5-Hydroxytryptamine (Serotonin) Receptor Agonists and Antagonists. In Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. J. Hardman and L. Limbird, 249–63. New York: McGraw-Hill. Schele, Linda, and Peter Mathews 1998 The Code of Kings: The Language of Seven Sacred Maya Temples and Tombs. New York: Simon and Schuster.

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Schele, Linda, and Mary Ellen Miller 1986 The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art. Fort Worth, TX: Kimbell Art Museum. Schultes, Richard Evans 1990 An Overview of Hallucinogens in the Western Hemisphere. In Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of Hallucinogens, ed. Peter T. Furst, 3–54. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Schultes, Richard Evans, and Albert Hofmann 1992 Plants of the Gods: Their Sacred, Healing, and Hallucinogenic Powers. Rochester, VT: Healing Arts. Schultes, Richard Evans, Albert Hofmann, and Christian Rätsch 1998 Plants of the Gods: Their Sacred, Healing, and Hallucinogenic Powers. 2nd ed. Rochester, VT: Healing Arts. Sharer, Robert J. 1994 The Ancient Maya. 5th ed. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Skoglund, Pontus, et al. 2015 Genetic Evidence for Two Founding Populations of the Americas. Nature 525(7567):104–8. Taylor, Palmer 1996 Agents Acting at the Neuromuscular Junction and Autonomic Ganglia. In Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, 9th ed., ed. J. Hardman and L. Limbird, 177–97. New York: McGraw-Hill. Troike, Rudolph C. 1962 The Origins of Plains Mescalism. American Anthropologist 64:946–63. Van Stone, Mark 1996 Reading Maya Headdresses in the Classic Southern Lowlands. Master’s thesis, University of Texas, Austin. von Cramon-Taubadel, Noreen, André Strauss, and Mark Hubbe 2017 Evolutionary Population History of Early Paleoamerican Cranial Morphology. Science Advances 22:e1602289. Wang, Sijia, et al. 2007 Genetic Variation and Population Structure in Native Americans. PLoS Genetics 3(11):2049–67. Wasson, R. Gordon 1980 The Wondrous Mushroom: Mycolatry in Mesoamerica. New York: McGrawHill. Weil, Andrew 1972 The Natural Mind: An Investigation of Drugs and the Higher Consciousness. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

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Whitley, David S. 1994 By the Hunter, for the Gatherer: Art, Social Relations and Subsistence Change in the Prehistoric Great Basin. World Archaeology 25(3):356–73. Wilbert, Johannes 1987 Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. 1990 Tobacco and Shamanistic Ecstasy among the Warao Indians of Venezuela. In Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of Hallucinogens, ed. Peter T. Furst, 55–83. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. Witzel, Michael 2011 Shamanism in Northern and Southern Eurasia: Their Distinctive Methods of Change of Consciousness. Social Science Information 50(1):39–61. 2012 The Origins of the World’s Mythologies. New York: Oxford University Press. Wu, J., et al. 2013 Cortical Control of VTA Function and Influence on Nicotine Reward. Biochemical Pharmacology 86(8):1173–80. Zhivotovsky, L. A., N. A. Rosenberg, and M. W. Feldman 2003 Features of Evolution and Expansion of Modern Humans, Inferred from Genomewide Microsatellite Markers. American Journal of Human Genetics 72(5):1171–86.

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CHAPTER SIX

The Smoking of Bones Ch’orti’ Maya Use of Tobacco and Ritual Tobacco Substitutes KERRY HULL

There is a long history of tobacco use throughout ancient Mesoamerica (Thompson 1997; Robicsek 1978). In the Maya area, tobacco has been used recreationally for its psychotropic and physiological effects and for its supernatural qualities. Among the Ch’orti’ Maya, tobacco is commonly cultivated, sometimes alternated with maize. Nicotiana tabacum L. is grown in several regions in the Ch’orti’ area where conditions are ideal. Tobacco is principally a highland plant, but with proper irrigation it can be productive in the lowlands (Wisdom 1950:867). The most common methods of irrigation of tobacco are the diversion of water from a stream or river into the furrows of the tobacco plot or pumping the water (Dary et al. 1998:96, 100). A single crop can be expected annually. Tobacco has traditionally been a staple crop for the Ch’orti’ (López Garcia and Metz 2002:77; Dary et al. 1998:70, 145). Tobacco was an important product at the end of the seventeenth century in and around Jocotán (Fuentes y Guzmán 1933:2:196–222). In the eighteenth century, tobacco was grown in the Copan Valley of Honduras (Feldman 2009:150), not by the Ch’orti’, but rather on large plantations (Feldman 1983:150; Metz 2009:167). Wisdom (1940:21) states that “coffee and tobacco areas cover most of Olopa and La Union municipios, as well as the southern part of Camotán municipio, as these regions have a highland climate.” In the twentieth century, young tobacco plants were transplanted from pots (“canoes”) into the fields in October and November and harvested in April (Wisdom 1940:51, 463). This basically conforms with Girard’s (1949:239) noted timing, except he states that harvesting takes place in March. Murdy (2009:86)

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C F I G UR E 6.1  Page 96 of the Madrid Codex. (a) full page, (b) tobacco detail, (c) glyphs of k’u-tzi (k’uutz) or k’u-tzi-li (k’uuhtzil). Courtesy of Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies (FAMSI.org).

notes that tobacco is generally harvested near the end of February or the beginning of March. T O B A C C O N O M E N C L AT U R E

In Ch’orti’ the term for “tobacco” (Nicotiana tabacum L. and N. rustica L.) is k’ujtz (cf. Kufer 2005:47). The word k’ujtz is widely distributed among the Greater Mayan Lowland languages (Kaufman 2003:1147) and is even attested epigraphically in the Dresden Codex (15A2–3) and Madrid Codex (96B2;

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96B3) as k’u-tzi (k’uutz) or k’u-tzi-li (k’uuhtzil) (figure 6.1). The term meaning “to smoke” something like tobacco is chamri (pronounced chambri), for example, “Ninoy uchamri uk’ujtz tya’ ch’a’r war e’yri” (My grandfather smokes his tobacco when he is lying down resting). Considering the ritual importance of tobacco among the Ch’orti’ it is not surprising that there are also specialized ritual terms for it. In Ch’orti’ curing rites, tobacco has several ritual names that do not occur in daily speech.1 The first is ajnawalch’a’n or nawalch’a’n (Hull 2003:100, 174). Traditional healers refer to tobacco as ajnawalch’a’n (lit. “the spirit vine”) as they request divine assistance in curing: “Ajnawalch’a’n, e nawal k’opot. Tar ink’ajti lisensya, tar ink’ajti e supliko, Nuestro Senyor” (Tobacco, wild tobacco. In it I plead for a license to heal, in it I plead for help). Another term used by traditional healers for tobacco is ajxujch’ch’a’n (lit. “the robber vine”) (Hull 2009:191). Two Hispanicized ritual terms for tobacco are hierbita llana (or yerba yana) and hierba bendecida (blessed plant) (Hull 2003:89, 101). Tobacco is divine, a deity that can be prayed to for assistance in curing (cf. Winter 2000:52). Thus, Ch’orti’ healers cure “tamar inte’ oja santa yerba de yana, tamar yerba divino, yerba dichoso, yerba sagrado” (with one leaf of the sacred tobacco plant, with the divine plant, lucky plant, sacred plant), which is given as a “payment” to enlist divine assistance with healing (Hull 2003:103–4). TOBACCO USE AMONG THE CH’ORTI’

In the first half of the twentieth century, nearly all Ch’orti’ and Ladino men used tobacco, and it was sold extensively (Wisdom 1940:32). During the bloody and oppressive tenure of Jorge Ubico as president of Guatemala (1931–1944), alcohol and tobacco were listed as “contraband” (Garrard-Burnett 2000:353). In 1933 there was a law in the Ch’orti’ area prohibiting tobacco sales without a license, causing it to be sold secretly, though this hardly stemmed the local trade (Wisdom 1940:32). The tobacco prohibition was enforced by armed men on horseback in the Ch’orti’ area (Metz 2006:60). The virtual state monopoly on tobacco sales under Ubico did affect Guatemala as a whole, however, leading to a decrease in tobacco cultivation nationwide (Girard 1949:239). Traditionally tobacco is chewed, smoked in locally produced pipes, or rolled into thick cigars. Cigar wrappers are often made from the tobacco plant itself. Molasses or aguardiente mixed with anise is applied to the leaves, which are then rolled into cigars. Tobacco is also commonly wrapped in corn husks and 128

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rolled into cigars (Girard 1995:190).2 Ch’orti’ men (and some boys) more often smoke tobacco from pipes, selling the rolled cigars they produce to Ladinos (Wisdom 1940:185–86). CH’ORTI’ PIPES

Ch’orti’ tobacco pipes are known as chamarnib’ k’ujtz or chamrib’ k’ujtz.3 They are often made of guachipilín or quebracho wood, but other hardwoods are possible (Wisdom 1940:118n5; cf. Girard 1949:238) (figure 6.2). For example, the k’ajte’ or rosewood tree (either Dalbergia melanoxylon or Dalbergia retusa) is commonly sought out for pipe making, as one of my consultants explained: “La ramita delgada tiene una huecura y por eso se hacen pipa para fumar con ella” (The small branches are hollow inside, and for this reason they are used to make pipes for smoking). In the early twentieth century the Ch’orti’ hamlet of Tisipe was known for fabricating straight pipes (figure 6.2a), and Shupá was known for curved elbow pipes (figures 6.2b, c) (Girard 1949:254). While Wisdom (1940:51, 116) states that “nearly all” Ch’orti’ men prefer smoking tobacco in pipes rather than rolled cigars, in actual practice today rolled cigars are carried around and small pieces are broken off and stuffed into pipes. Wisdom (1940:116) describes several types of Ch’orti’ pipes—the elbow shape being the most popular—that are carried in shoulder bags (mukuk) or hung from the neck with a cord. Tobacco is a symbol of peace, confidence, and respect as it is passed around in groups (Girard 1949:238). Tobacco is chewed in the Ch’orti’ area, but smoking is considerably more common. Since tobacco is said to be “hot” (referring to a spiritual not thermic quality of the plant), if someone chews it, that person cannot bathe that day or their body will begin to swell up. Chewing tobacco is most commonly reserved for ritual contexts (see below).4 When a Ch’orti’ man who regularly used tobacco during his life dies, he is buried with his tobacco in addition to other personal effects (Fought 1972:281). One of my consultants explained: “Katurb’a e k’ujtz xe’ o’b’na twa’ uchamri xe’ chamob’ix” (We place tobacco for those who knew how to smoke it who are now dead), the expectation being that the deceased will be able to continue enjoying tobacco in the next life. For similar reasons, during the Tzikin (Day of the Dead) ceremony, tobacco is put out on a table “twa’ uchambri e dehunto” (for the dead to smoke) when their spirits return during these festival days (Fought 1972:285, 291). The Smoking of Bones 129

FIGURE 6 .2  Examples of Ch’orti’ pipes: (a) straight pipe (Wisdom 1940:117, fig. 3t), (b) elbow pipe (Wisdom 1940:117, fig. 3v), (c) elbow pipe (Girard 1949:239).

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Tobacco also has certain mythical or magical properties in Ch’orti’ thought. Crushed tobacco leaves mixed with aguardiente are said to be an aphrodisiac for Ch’orti’ women (Wisdom 1940:352). The mystical nature of tobacco is also evident in its ritual use in cornfields. Girard (1995:189–90) notes that farmers sit together in the milpa and smoke ceremonially. They direct their puffs of smoke to the skies in order to “magically provoke the formation of clouds” for rain for the fields.5 Thus, tobacco is also used as an offering to the rain-bringing deities (angeles) (Metz 2006:138).6 Offerings of tobacco to the rain deities are often made on individual altars at Ch’orti’ homes. T O B A C C O I N R I T U A L , H E A LT H , A N D H E A L I N G

Tobacco has a long and renowned history in many Mesoamerican cultures for its curative properties (Winter 2000:47–9).7 The Ch’orti’, according to Girard (1949:238), likewise “[no] deja de atribuir a esta planta propiedades sobrenaturales que aprovecha para sus actos de brujería o en la farmacopea” ([do not] 13 0

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fail to attribute to this plant supernatural properties which are taken advantage of for their acts of sorcery or in the pharmacopoeia). In various forms and diverse manners, tobacco is prized by the Ch’orti’ for its ability to cure. Not only ritual specialists but also ordinary Ch’orti’ make use of tobacco in treating any number of ailments. For example, tobacco is used for certain snakebites in the Ch’orti’ area.8 In addition, they sometimes put tobacco directly in the nose to help a cold. This is done by chewing the tobacco thoroughly, then placing it into the nose, and squeezing the nose repeatedly. As one of my consultants said to his brother, “Chamarsen inte’ ak’ujtz twa’ awajke’n usuy twa’ ink’oyi inyatz’i ta nini’” (Smoke one of your cigars in order to give me the butt so that I can chew it and squeeze it in my nose).9 The dried leaves of the tobacco plant can also be smeared with hog grease and applied to the forehead in order to relieve catarrhal infections (Wisdom 1950:868).10 Furthermore, tobacco leaves can be slowly moved over the suffering patient’s body four times for about thirty minutes, thereby transferring the sickness to the leaves themselves (Wisdom 1940:348). According to Wisdom (1950:1040), tobacco spittle was used to stupefy the chigoe flea (ub’i’ ch’a’k) before extraction.11 Still today when a chigoe flea has bored into the sole of someone’s foot or under their toenail, the Ch’orti’ chew tobacco and spit right onto the flea, which they say stultifies it, easing its removal.12 Ch’orti’ healers (ajnirom) carry tobacco with them as part of their curing medicine chest. “Tobacco is as indispensable as the divining stone and the incense burner in the witch doctor’s equipment” (Girard 1947:361). Tobacco contains curative properties that make it the plant of choice in two distinct aspects of healing: the divination of the cause of illness and the expelling of the evil spirit said to be causing the illness. When Ch’orti’ healers (or sorcerers in sorcery rites) start a curing rite, they ask for tobacco, chew it, and then begin the divination process (Fought 1972:264).13 Here, the chewing of tobacco allows Ch’orti’ diviners to “initiate a conversation with the sabio, the wise spirit also known as zahorín . . . which resides in one of the diviner’s limbs, usually the right calf. Healers . . . prepare for divination by chewing tobacco and massaging the calf (or other limb) with the tobacco juice” (Kufer 2009:208). In one healing rite I witnessed, the healer placed several generous pieces of tobacco in her mouth and began to chew them. As she chewed, she mumbled under her breath as she commenced communication with her sabio or sajorín (also known as ajk’in or k’in).14 She soon turned her attention to her right calf and The Smoking of Bones 131

began asking a series of questions to the sabio spirit residing therein, pausing occasionally to spit a spray of tobacco on her leg and rub it in.15 The following is a transcript of part of this Q&A with her sajorín, the knowing spirit in her calf: Ache examinar uyanjel uyespiritu inmediatamente, ne’t sajorín awajk’e’n inche saber. Y bueno, kocha che, chukur kanik kocha turu yaja’. Chukur kanik t’e’nb’ir ma’cha’we’? Algún espanto? Jolchan tijitijutir ukojko? Tijtijutir ukojko? Espanto jolchan ukojko? Ja’x ma’cha’we’ che, ja’x kanik. Ja’x. Ja’x. Uk’ani kanik twa’ kaniri? Uk’ani kanik twa’ kaniri? Remedio uk’ani twa’ uyuch’i? Ja’x. Medicina uwajpi? Ja’x. Ja’x. Ma kanik ja’x chukur? Ja’x chukur. Ma ja’x chukur. Medicina uk’ani. Ja’x. Ja’x. Ta farmacia twa’ umani? Ta farmacia ka uk’ani? Ya turu umani? Maja’x chukur, maja’x chukur verdad. Ira intaka ache e mentira sajorín jay maja’x chukur? Remedio uk’ani, remedio uk’ani twa’ uyuch’i. Jaaaaa’x. [You examine the spirit of the patient immediately, you sajorín let me know. And well, as thus it is, perhaps she [the patient) is possessed like that. Perhaps possessed, infected with a loss of appetite? Perhaps a “fright”? She has the damaging heat of evil eye? She has evil eye? She has a fright of evil heat? Yes, she can’t eat, perhaps that’s it. That’s it. That’s it. Perhaps we should cure it? Perhaps we should cure it? Medicine is what she should drink? That’s it. She’ll get medicine? That’s it. That’s it. It’s not a demonic possession? It is. It isn’t a demonic possession. She needs medicine. That’s it. That’s it. She’ll buy it at the pharmacy? At the pharmacy she’ll buy it? There she’ll buy it? It’s not demonic possession. It definitely is not demonic possession. Don’t lie to me, sajorín, if it isn’t demonic possession? She needs medicine. Medicine is what she should drink. Thaaaaat’s it.] The role of tobacco in this portion of the curing rite is to facilitate communication with her sajorín, to open that channel of divine knowledge. In addition, an offering of tobacco by the healer is considered sufficient to get a lisensiya (license) to heal from the gods (Hull 2003:103–4). The second function of tobacco is in the ritual act of curing. If the patient is deemed to be possessed by an evil spirit, the healer will employ tobacco in one of two ways. The first is through chewing tobacco and spraying tobaccoladen spittle on the patient, a rite called soplada or soplillo (lit. “blowing”) 13 2

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(Hull 2000:13; Kufer 2009:208).16 This chewed tobacco can also be rubbed on a patient (Wisdom 1940:347; López Garcia and Metz 2002:229; Palma Ramos 2001:49). The tobacco spittle is a purifying liquid thought to help dispel the afflicting evil spirit; it works in tandem with the prayers being offered up (Hull 2003:173).17 An elderly consultant of Palma Ramos (2001:49) stated that tobacco is good for healing because “it gathers up the ghosts” (English translation by Metz 2006:138). In addition to blowing tobacco spittle (uya’rar e k’ujtz) on or around the patient, Ch’orti’ healers also blow tobacco smoke during curative rites. This method of ritual cleansing is called sahumerio (Kufer 2009:208).18 Sahumerio is used with other healing paraphernalia, such as chickens, which are passed over the body repeatedly (Hull 2000; Metz 2006:139). It is the smoke itself that has mystical powers to chase away evil spirits. Thus, Girard (1947:361) observes that Ch’orti’ healers always smoke while healing since “the smoke frightens the evil spirits” as well as because “the narcotic produces a state of hypnosis favorable to receiving inspiration from the god who distributes curative formulas.” Even in non-curing contexts, tobacco smoke is able to expel evil spirits, such as those that reside on the road, by blowing tobacco or copal smoke to the four cardinal directions (Girard 1947:361).19 TOBACCO SUBSTITUTES

Throughout the Americas, indigenous groups have made use of a large variety of tobacco substitutes when tobacco is unavailable. In North America, lobelia (Lobelia inflata), commonly known as Indian tobacco, has been widely used as a tobacco substitute by various Native groups. It has specific medicinal uses in addition to being smoked for pleasure, such as to calm spasms of asthma or bronchitis (Foster and Johnson 2008:240; Tierra 1983:17). Native Americans also have valued lobelia as a tobacco substitute for its intoxicating effects (Brust 2004:441). In addition, the inner bark of the sand cherry tree has been used by some Wisconsin Natives as a tobacco substitute (Bieder 1995:18). Among the Western Keres, the leaves of the heartleaf four o’clock (Allionia nyctaginea Michx.) have been smoked as a tobacco substitute (Swank 1932). One particular plant group that has had wide usage in place of tobacco is kinnikinnick, a term that was applied by early European settlers to a number of different plants, such as the bearberry (Arctostaphylos spp.). Cutler (2002:176) notes that some Native Americans “smoke kinnikinnick as a substitute for The Smoking of Bones 13 3

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tobacco; others smoke kinnikinnick by preference” (cf. Bancroft 1886:700; Gordon 2011:110). Even the sunflower (Helianthus spp.) has been smoked in cigars and pipes by some Native Americans (Kavasch 1979:98). In South America, the plants that can substitute for tobacco are too numerous to list here.20 By way of example, when tobacco is not readily available the Yanoama of the Amazon resort to a plant called tupiro (Solanum hirtum Vahl) or holehole be (ersatz tobacco) (Piper cryptodon DC.) (Wilbert 1993:26). In times past they also used a narcotic plant tala instead of Nicotiana (Wilbert 1993:26). In postcolonial Mesoamerica, distinct cultural communities have their own plants that substitute for tobacco. For example, in the Alta Verapaz of Guatemala, Cecropia obtusifolia was smoked as a tobacco substitute, likely explaining the name for this tree in Belize, where it is known as “tobacco tree” by some (Standley and Steyermark 1946:22; Balick and Arvigo 2015:489). Harris (2009:103) similarly notes that leaves from the trumpet tree are crushed and made into cigars. Kunow (2003:116) likewise reports that in Yucatán dried leaves of Cecropia peltata L., the trumpet tree (koch), are cropped and rolled into cigarettes. The Maya of Yucatán also smoke the dried leaves of Piper auritum Kunth (makulan or makulam) in place of tobacco (Kunow 2003:131). The Mopan Maya of Belize say that “old people” used to cut the fruit of the castor bean plant (Ricinus communis) (k’o’ch in Mopan), dry the leaf in the sun, crush it, then put the leaf into the fruit of the plant itself and smoke it like a pipe (Wright and Hull n.d.). The fruit was used as a kind of pipe and the leaf was a substitute when they did not have access to real tobacco. The Mopan Maya also use the dried leaves of the chi’chi’b’ej (lit. “by the side of the road” since it is commonly found along roads) (Sida acuta) or broomweed as a tobacco substitute (Balick and Arvigo 2015:375, 489).21 Similarly, in Yucatán the leaves of Sida acuta (chichi be) are dried and smoked “like marijuana,” according to Kunow’s consultant Don Pedro, and are said to “dry out the brains,” whereas Cecropia peltata and the Piper species are said to be “like tobacco” (Kunow 2003:71, 134). Sometimes tobacco is mixed with other plants and substances to create changes in taste or physiological effects. The Lacandon Maya combine the pulverized bark of the balsam tree (Myroxylon balsamum) with tobacco leaves and roll them into cigars in order to smooth the taste of the cigar and produce a more appealing aroma (Nations 2006:96). This tradition of mixing smoking tobacco with other substances, perhaps some with psychotropic properties, may have been part of Classic period Maya life (Gilman and Xun 2004:35). 13 4

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For the Ch’orti’, only a few plants are known to be smoked instead of tobacco. When tobacco leaves are unavailable, the Ch’orti’ substitute dried banana leaves, chili, and corn silk (Girard 1949:238). The use of dried corn silk for tobacco is also well attested across Mesoamerica and has pre-Columbian roots (Lewis and Elvin-Lewis 2003:505; Davidson 1979:437; Raloff and Pendick 1993:248). The Ch’orti’, however, do have one of the most unlikely substitutes for tobacco during certain sorcery rites: human bones. TOBACCO AND SORCERY

Bones have a special significance for sorcery among the Ch’orti’. I have been told by several Ch’orti’ that Ch’orti’ sorcerers (ajb’a’x) always carry human bones with them, usually under their hat if the sorcerer is male, since they figure into different types of witchcraft ceremonies. One rite involving human bones is strikingly esoteric. According to one of my consultants, human bones are sometimes ground up and smoked during witchcraft ceremonies. While my consultant knew few details of the practice, John Fought fortunately recorded a full description relating to the smoking of human bones by Ch’orti’ sorcerers. In his large deposit of field data at the Archive of the Indigenous Languages of Latin America website (http://www.ailla.utexas.org) are dozens of hours of material recorded in the 1960s in Ch’orti’. In the recording entitled “Topics Related to the Dead and the Underworld (3) CAA004R297I003” (at 13:15) Fought’s (N.d.) consultant begins discussing a type of menacing otherworld being or spirit known either as ajnab’aren or ajnajb’aren. The following is the relevant section (my transcription and translation): Ak’ajna ani ke’ ayan ojronte ajnajb’aren ke’ ja’xir konda k’ani alok’oy axana o ke’ k’ani uchektes alguna cosa tu’nak’ uyetjentir twa’ achamay umener, che ke’ b’ajxan a’xin tama dia jueves a’xin ukukru ub’a to’r umujrer e difunto to’r camposanto. Ach’a’n ukukru ub’a i war o’jron ma’chi k’ani tuk’a uk’ajti. Pero che ke’ taka uyojronerir ach’a’n ukukru ub’a to’r umurjrer e difunto. I konda-ixto a’chpa a’wan, che ke’ ak’ajna ke’ e winik yaja’ uk’ajna’r a’xin ub’ajni ub’aker e xerb’aj job’ yaja’. Ub’asi tamante’ payuj i uk’eche axana. Jay ma ususi e b’ak yaja’ uche tantan. Utz’ub’a tama upipa uchamri. Ub’utz’a’ e b’ak yaja’. Uyujta a’xin ko’ra i tamar e yaja’. I kwando turixto asutpa jay koyote jay mapachu kocha asutpa. Che ke’ konda ak’a’pa uche uyojronerir e b’ak yaja’ entonses ayo’pa a’wan unawalir e espiritu malin The Smoking of Bones 13 5

to’r ukejreb’, a’wan kocha inte’ maxtak. I wa’kchetaka asutpa koyote, jay ma mis, koche ja’x k’ani asutpa. Entonse che ke’ e winik yaja’ k’otoy, ayan inte’ dia ixin kay ukukru ub’a to’r umujrer e difunto. I usuti ub’a koyote ixin. K’otoy tama e otot che ke’ b’ut’ur ko’ra ajtz atzo’ tama uk’ab’ e te’ i kay uyemse. Ub’ut’u upat unuk’ lok’oy a’jni takar. [They used to say that there was another kind of evil spirit which . . . wanted to travel, or that it would appear as something close to its fellow man in order to kill them thereby. They say that first he (the sorcerer) would go on Thursdays. First he would roll around on the burial mound of the deceased in the cemetery. He would continually roll around, and he would do it in secret. But they say that he would say his words (his spell) while rolling all around over the grave of the deceased. And when he would get up, they say it was said, that man—that’s why he would go digging up the bones of the murdered soul, and take them out. And he would wrap them in a handkerchief and would carry them around. Or if not, he would scrape those bones and make ashes. He put the ashes in a pipe and smoked them. He smoked those bones. And he would blow it (the smoke) all over the place. And finally, moments later, he shapeshifts into perhaps a coyote or a raccoon as he changes. They say that when he finishes those bone prayers, then the nagual of an evil spirit would arrive and stand on his shoulder, standing like a child. And immediately he would turn into a coyote, or perhaps a cat, however he wanted to shapeshift. Then they say that man arrived, there was one day when he was rolling around on the burial mound of the dead. And he turned himself into a coyote and went. He arrived at the house where there were many turkeys everywhere on the branches of the trees and he brought them down. He filled his back and neck (i.e., he stole them, carrying them over his back and neck) and took off running with them.] In this fascinating account the sorcerer first rolls around on top of a grave (umurjrer e difunto) for some unknown purpose. The sorcerer then exhumes the bones of the dead, which he shaves (ususi e b’ak). He then transforms into an animal, which will facilitate his approach to his victim’s house. The powdered bones are then stuffed into a pipe and smoked. While not chronologically clear in this account, the smoke will function to put the victim(s) to sleep so that he can rob them and will enhance the shapeshifting experience. In this case he steals as many turkeys as he can carry and flees. 13 6

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One of the salient aspects of this particular sorcery rite is the scraping and smoking of human bones. There is a possibility that this ritual has a pre-Columbian antecedent at the nearby ancient Maya site of Copan in Honduras. On Stela A of Copan the text reads: “bolon ’iplaj baak- ch’ich’ k’in, suhsaj baak cham[a] liiy” (many strengths bone-blood divination/ceremony, the bone was shaved/ scraped, [the one] having been killed).22 In a close parallel to the Ch’orti’ rite described above, the same verbal root sus- is used in conjunction with bones. In Ch’orti’ the expression is a transitive construction, ususi e b’ak (he scraped the bone) whereas on Copan Stela A the passive form appears, suhsaj baak (the bone was scraped). In 1989 in a personal communication to Henderson, David Stuart proposed that this passage refers to a bone-defleshing rite (Henderson 2013:178n6). In Ch’orti’ the verb sus- means “to plane wood, peel, polish, shave, scrape, slice, work wood, carve wood, whittle” (Hull 2016).23 Since the result of this verb is a substance that can be put into a pipe and smoked, in the case of the Ch’orti’, the action of scraping into fine shavings is most likely (figure 6.3). On Stela A the event is specified as a k’in, a term that means both “divination” and “ceremony” in Ch’orti’ and other Mayan languages. The term after baak (bone) in the Copan text is cham[a]liiy [the one] having been killed), perhaps corresponding to the corpse that was exhumed from the graveyard in the Ch’orti’ practice. In general terms, therefore, the ritual described on Stela A of Copan appears to have several intriguing points of correlation with a rare sorcery rite of the Ch’orti’ today. In another file in Fought’s (1965) archived data at AILLA, “Ch’orti’ Field Notes #000-030 CAA005R001I001,” the following highly informative statement appears, one that is rendered much more intelligible when contextualized by the discussion above: San Dimas God of Robbers (Smoke the bones of the right little finger and the right little toe of the corpse and he will guide you to the house of your victim who will be sound asleep.) This short notation in Fought’s field notes (reproduced here in a close facsimile to the original orientation on the handwritten page) adds the detail that it is the right little finger and right little toe of the corpse that is smoked.24 The mention of San Dimas as “God of Robbers” next to this note about smoking bones strongly suggests that they are related, though just how is not explained. San Dimas refers to Saint Dismas, the “good thief ” who asked Christ to remember The Smoking of Bones 137

FIG U R E 6.3  Bone-shaving ceremony glyphs from Copan

Stela A, west side. Drawing by Linda Schele.

him when Christ came to his kingdom (Luke 23:42). A fourth-century tradition found in the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus records the name of this thief as Dismas, which in Spanish is commonly pronounced “Dimas.” The fact that the evil spirit associated with the smoking-of-bones sorcery rite among the Ch’orti’ is a thief is indeed significant: the purpose of smoking human bones and the resulting animal transformation is expressly to enable one to rob someone of their possessions. Further information about this esoteric bone-smoking rite is found in Girard’s Los chortís ante el problema Maya. Girard (1949:331) records a similar sorcery ritual, albeit without mentioning the smoking of bones overtly: 13 8

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Llegó un brujo acompañado de quince auxiliares a visitar al opulento individuo; después de los saludos de rigor el hechicero se puso a fumar un cigarro mágico, llenando la estancia de humo aromático que pronto adormeció a los habitantes del rancho, sin olvidar a los perros. Entonces el brujo se llevó todas las provisiones de que pudo echar mano y se retiró tranquilamente con su comitiva y sólo cuando el último cigarro encantado se hubo apagado despertó el dueño de la casa para constatar la desaparición de sus provisiones. [A sorcerer arrived accompanied by fifteen helpers to visit the opulent individual; after the usual greetings the sorcerer began to smoke a magic cigar, filling the room with aromatic smoke that soon put the residents of the ranch to sleep, even down to the dogs. Then the sorcerer carried away all provisions that he could hold and retired quietly with his entourage, and only when the last enchanted cigar had died out did the owner of the house note the disappearance of his provisions.] What strongly suggests this episode involves smoking human bones and not ordinary tobacco is that Girard calls what was smoked un cigarro mágico (a magic cigar) or a cigarro encantado (enchanted cigar). The context of the encounter is the same: a sorcerer who puts those in a house to sleep with a special smoke in order to rob them of their possessions.25 I suggest the cigarro mágico is filled with human bone shavings, conforming to my consultant’s and Fought’s description of this sorcery rite. Note, however, that in Girard’s account no animal transformation occurs. The sorcerer accomplishes his evil designs simply through the use of his magic cigar while visiting a home. Comparative cultural data provide close correlates to the use of powdered human bones in sorcery rites to facilitate robbery. In South America, the Aymara of the Lake Titicaca region of Bolivia grind bones into powder and “blow [it] into the house of sleeping people so they will not waken” in order to rob them (La Barre 1948:217). Similarly, in the small Nahuatl-speaking village of Tecospa, Mexico, according to Madsen (1957:164), they “say that robbers sprinkle the threshold of a house with magic powders made of ground bones from a grave in order to put the occupants into a deep sleep.”26 Farther north in the US Southwest, Navajo skinwalkers—humans that have shapeshifted into animals through sorcery involving specialized magic powders—are commonly blamed for acts of theft (Brady 1980:159; see below). The Smoking of Bones 13 9

SORCERY AND OTHER USES OF GROUND BONES

The use of pulverized bones in sorcery rites is well established in various world cultures (Colwell-Chanthaphonh 2005:123). For example, in China witches give discontented wives pulverized children’s bones to mix into their husband’s food in order to kill him (Campbell 1900:50). The tradition of the ritual use of ground-up human bones is especially well attested in the US Southwest (Childs 2010; Rodrigues and Schaafsma 2008:30). Infant bones have been reportedly used in sorcery among the Tewa-speaking tribes of Nambé Pueblo in New Mexico (Parsons 1929:67). Navajo men have reportedly stolen the bones dug up by archaeologists, ground them into powder, and used them in black magic and sorcery rituals (Childs 2010). Powdered human bones are also ingested at times, often in response to the death of a relative through sorcery. Among the Yanoama of the Amazonian rainforest, the bones of cremated individuals are sometimes pulverized and drunk by surviving parents or a close relative if the death was related to sorcery (Smole 1976:224; Evans-Pritchard 1973:37). According to Rodrigues and Schaafsma (2008:29), the Gabrieliño and Luiseño peoples of California also “collected burned bone from their cremations for ceremonial consumption. The burned bone was pounded to a fine powder in mortars, and mixed with water,” which was drunk by relatives of the deceased or by shamans. Similarly, early European settlers in Brazil were shocked to see that the Tarairius practiced endocannibalism: they would grind up the bones of their deceased and consume them as part of their mourning rites (Meuwese 2011:144). Among all the traditions of using pulverized human bone in rituals, perhaps the closest comparative data relating to the Ch’orti’ are found in the Navajo understanding of skinwalkers. SKINWALKERS

Among the Navajo of the US Southwest, a special class of spirits or shamans are known as skinwalkers. Brady (1980:159), who has written the classic study on skinwalker narratives, notes that some of the most popular stories told by Navajo children and adults are those of the adilgashii (skinwalkers). The Navajo who spoke to Brady described the adilgashii as dreaded witches or sorcerers who travel at night in the skins of coyotes or other animals and who use poison made from the ground-up bones of babies to harm the living.27 Brady 14 0

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(1980:159–60) explains the role of skinwalkers in Navajo sorcery: “According to traditional Navajo belief, skinwalkers climb on top of a hogan when a family is asleep and drop pollen, specially made from the ground bone[s] of human infants, down the smoke hole. Contact with this substance brings the sleeping person ill health, social problems, and sometimes death.” Dropping the powdered bones of dead children on people causes “misfortune, illness, and death” (Paulik 2000:118; Kumar 1996:112). The pulverized bones of children (or sometimes adults), known as “corpse poison” among the Navajo, look like pollen, which “may be thrown into the houses of enemies, may be buried in fields, or surreptitiously placed on the victim. Illness, often fatal, is inevitable” (Kumar 1996:112). Colwell-Chanthaphonh (2005:123) describes the substance as the “so-called ghost powder” and notes that it is made from human remains for the purpose of killing another person. Corpse poison (áńt’į́į́h) can also be applied to an arrow, a stone, or another object and thrown at the person one desires to curse (McPherson 2012; Kumar 1996:112).28 Regardless of the means of delivery, in order for the corpse poison to work there must be contact with the human (Levy 1995:31). Preston (1998:88) reports that while working on a book on the Navajo creation story, he learned of a place called Chaco in Navajo oral tradition where they used to employ a “dreaded substance called corpse powder” in witchcraft and cannibalistic rites. The use of corpse powder eventually “threw the world out of balance” and caused the ultimate destruction of the people of Chaco Canyon .29 This ground-up “noxious powder” used in sorcery rites is intimately linked to Navajo shapeshifting by sorcerers and witches (Preston 1998:88). Skinwalkers appear in animal form, most commonly as coyotes, wolves, foxes, eagles, owls, or crows, depending on what animal abilities the sorcerers will need (Brady 1980:159; Melhorn 2015:329; Kluckhohn and Titiev 1944:82; Heizer and Whipple 1971:546). These animal manifestations are reflected in another term for skinwalkers, yee naaldlooshii, which literally means “he who runs around on all fours with it.” Thus, the Navajo say that unidentified animal tracks found the morning after an act of sorcery are those of the skinwalkers (Brady 1980:159; Heizer and Whipple 1971:546). One of the most commonly discussed aspects of skinwalkers is their speed—running alongside someone driving a car late at night, cutting in front of the car, trying to get the driver to crash, and so on (Tony Webster, pers. comm., February 2016). The parallels between the Ch’orti’ and Navajo rites are readily apparent: (1) The Smoking of Bones 141

both are sorcery rites, (2) both involve pulverized human bones robbed from a grave,30 (3) both can involve animal transformations, and (4) both include nefarious purposes of the sorcery, often robbery. What distinguishes the Ch’orti’ rite from the Navajo is the act of smoking the shaved bones, rather than simply scattering them in a smoke-like fashion. Indeed, this aspect of the ritual is extraordinarily rare in New World indigenous traditions. Nevertheless, as this comparative analysis has shown, there is a widespread pattern of the use of powdered human bones in sorcery rites for the purpose of robbery or mischief. EUROPEAN INFLUENCE?

While a pre-Columbian origin of the practice of using human bones in sorcery rites may be plausible, another possibility is European influence. Since the Middle Ages human hand or forearm bones were used in witchcraft for the purpose of stealing. One of the earliest accounts of this practice is from Petit Albert in 1722 (De Givry 1931:181), who describes the processes involved in obtaining and preparing human bones for the sorcery rite: Take the right or left hand of a felon who is hanging from a gibbet beside a highway; wrap it in part of a funeral pall and so wrapped squeeze it well. Then put it into an earthenware vessel with zimat, nitre, salt and long peppers, the whole well powdered. Leave it in this vessel for a fortnight, then take it out and expose it to full sunlight during the dog-days until it becomes quite dry. If the sun is not strong enough put it in an oven with fern and vervain. Next make a kind of candle from the fat of a gibbeted felon, virgin wax, sesame, and ponie, and use the Hand of Glory as a candlestick to hold this candle when lighted, and then those in every place into which you go with this baneful instrument shall remain motionless. Known as the “hand of glory,” this talisman was widely used in Europe as a tool for robbery and enchantment (Guiley 2006:130, 2010:154; Durrant and Bailey 2012:92; Vázquez Hoys 2009:354). The hand of a murderer who had been hanged was cut off the corpse during a lunar eclipse. The hand was then wrapped in a cloth and pickled for several weeks in a specified concoction. Once dried, candles were inserted between the fingers or the fingers were burned themselves as candles. The effects of the hand of glory were to put victims in a deep sleep or render them incapable of moving so that the person could rob them without any interference (Grégoire 1894:1213; Summers 2000:126). 14 2

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There are numerous points of correspondence to many of the New World sorcery rites involving bones, possibly suggesting a European origin, or at least influence, on New World practice. However, the ritual described in Copan Stela A predates European contact. What is more, far better evidence against viewing these rites as deriving strictly from the Old World is the fully entrenched practice by various types of Aztec sorcerers as described by Bernardino de Sahagún, which closely parallels the aforementioned Ch’orti’ act of witchcraft. A more likely scenario is the merging and adaptation of similar traditions after contact with the Spanish in the New World. Among the Aztec there was a class of sorcerers known as tlapouhqui (lit. “knower of man’s destiny”). In the Florentine Codex (book 10), they are described as in tlahueliloc [tlapouhqui], tlacatecólotl, teiztlacahuiani, teca mocacayahuani (the evil [tlapouhqui] is a man-owl, deceiver, trickster of the people) (Sahagún 1950–1982:10:31). Among the tlapouhqui was a group of sorcerers known as the temacpatitotique, who were profanadores, ladrones y violadores (profaners, thieves, and violators) and would rob people through hypnotic witchcraft (López Austin 1966:99). Another type of sorcerer, known as the tlacatecólotl (lit. “man-owl”) was a shapeshifter whom Sahagún (1950–1982:10:31) describes as a teiztlacahuiani, teca mocacayahuani (deceiver, trickster of the people). The tlapouhqui, temacpatitotique, and tlacatecólotl all used sorcery involving bones to put the occupants of a house to sleep or in a trance in order to rob them (Olavarrieta Marenco 1977). Their method of sorcery, as described by Sahagún, was to cut off the left arm of a woman who had died in childbirth (a class of women known as mocihuaquetzque), which possessed a magical power to put people into a deep sleep or trance: And when those who danced with the forearm would somewhere destroy or rob people, one person carried and bore the forearm of the woman who had died in childbirth, on his shoulder. It was the one on her left, her left forearm. When he came to reach one’s home, but had not yet entered the house, first of all he struck the midpoint of the courtyard with the forearm. Twice he struck. On reaching the entrance of the house, he struck the portal, the lintel, and then he passed by the square, wooden pillar. Then he once again struck there before the hearth. (Sahagún 1950–1982:4:103) López Austin (1966:99) explains that the action of striking the house with the dismembered arm would “provocar en los moradores de las casas robadas un estado soporífero suficiente para que ningún grito de auxilio fuese The Smoking of Bones 14 3

percibido en el exterior” (provoke in the inhabitants of the robbed houses a sufficient soporific state so that no cry for help was perceived abroad). Of these sorcerers, Sahagún (1950–1982:10:39) further writes: In temacpalitoti, ca notzale, piale, tlatole, cuique, tecochtlaçani, tecochtecani, ichtecqui: temacpalitotia tecochtlaça, teiolmictia, teçotlaoa, tlacemololoa, tlacemitqui cuezcomatl quimama quinapaloa mitotia, tlatzotzona, cuica chocholoa. [One who dances with a dead woman’s forearm is advised. (He is) a guardian [of secret rituals], a master of the spoken word, of song. (He is) one who robs by casting a spell, who puts people to sleep; (he is) a thief. He dances with a dead woman’s forearm; he robs by casting a spell, causing people to faint, to swoon. He heaps together (and) carries away all the goods. He bears the maize bin on his back; he carries it in his arms. (While his victims sleep) he dances, beats the two-toned drum, sings, leaps about.] The Florentine Codex (book 10.f.27r and book 4.f.60v) depicts the actions of the temacpalitotique sorcerers in the moment of robbery. The first scene shows the sorcerers cutting off the left arm of a woman who died in childbirth and making off with stolen goods (figure 6.4a). The next two scenes illustrate the members of the house who have been put to sleep while the temacpalitotique steal from them (figure 6.4b). The early date of this Aztec practice argues against substantial borrowing from the Spanish and evidences a pre-Columbian origin for the core elements of this sorcery rite. Also, there are clear parallels to the Ch’orti’ sorcery rite: both use the hand bones of a person to magically put the occupants of a house to sleep with the intent to rob. CONCLUSION

Tobacco is a divine plant among the Ch’orti’, arguably without parallel in terms of its ritual and curative properties. Just as in Ch’orti’ mythology all things in heaven (tichan), including deities, have the underworld’s malevolent equivalents, so too tobacco functions as a primary healing plant as well as a powerful tool in evil acts of sorcery. Ch’orti’ healers are, after all, almost always sorcerers too. As my Ch’orti’ consultant Hipólito Ohajaca Pérez explained to me, “Those who know how to access the otherworld can and usually do access both sides.” 14 4

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A

FIG U R E 6.4  Aztec temacpalitotique sorcerers in the act of robbery: (a) the temacpalitotique cut off the left arm of a woman who died in childbirth and make off with stolen goods (Florentine Codex, book 10.f.27r); (b) with the people of the house having been put into a trance, the temacpalitotique steal from them (Florentine Codex, book 4.f.60v).

B

The utility of the tobacco plant is apparent in its myriad uses in curing fevers, the flu, snakebites, and various other common ailments. Yet the real power of tobacco lies in its ability to combat evil spirits, to whom all disease is attributed by the Ch’orti’. This chapter has also brought to light a little-known sorcery ritual involving a tobacco substitute: pulverized human bones. In the case of the Ch’orti’ the supernatural smoke created by the shaved human bones in conjunction with witchcraft incantations enables Ch’orti’ sorcerers to shapeshift and put their victim to sleep in order to rob their possessions. As I have The Smoking of Bones 14 5

shown, the use of powdered human bones is well attested throughout the indigenous traditions of the Americas. However, the smoking of those bones in sorcery is a rare adaptation of the otherwise known ritual practice.

REFERENCES CITED Balick, Michael J., and Rosita Arvigo 2015 Messages from the Gods: A Guide to the Useful Plants of Belize. New York: Oxford University Press. Bancroft, Hubert H. 1886 The Native Races of the Pacific States. San Francisco, CA: History Co. Barrera Marín, Alfredo, et al. 1976 Nomenclatura etnobotánica Maya: Una interpretación taxonómica. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Basso, Keith H. 1969 Western Apache Witchcraft. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Bieder, Robert 1995 Native American Communities in Wisconsin, 1600–1960: A Study of Tradition and Change. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Brady, Margaret K. 1980 Narrative Competence: A Navajo Example of Peer Group Evaluation. Journal of American Folklore 93(368) (April–June):158–81. Breedlove, D. E., and R. M. Laughlin 1993 The Flowering of Man: A Tzotzil Botany of Zinacantán. 2 vols. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Brust, J. Calvin M. 2004 Neurological Aspects of Substance Abuse. Philadelphia, PA: ButterworthHeinemann. Campbell, J. M. 1900 Notes on the Spirit Basis of Belief and Custom. Indian Antiquary 29:45–56. Cervantes y Salazár, F. 1914 Papeles de Nueva España. Edited by F. de Paso y Troncoso. Mexico City: Hausser and Menet. Childs, Craig 2010 Finders Keepers: A Tale of Archaeological Plunder and Obsession. Boston: Little, Brown. Colwell-Chanthaphonh, Chip 2005 When History Is Myth: Genocide and the Transmogrification of American Indians. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 29(2):113–18.

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Cunningham, Keith 1992 American Indians’ Kitchen-Table Stories: Contemporary Conversations with Cherokee, Sioux, Hopi, Osage, Navajo, Zuni, and Members of Other Nations. Atlanta, GA: August House. Cutler, Charles. L. 2002 Tracks That Speak: The Legacy of Native American Words in North American Culture. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Dary, Claudia, Sível Elías, and Violeta Reyna 1998 Estrategias de sobrevivencia campesina en ecosistemas frágiles. Guatemala City, Guatemala: FLASCO. Davidson, Robert S. 1979 Modification of Pathological Behavior: Experimental Analyses of Etiology and Behavior Therapy. New York: Gardner Press. De Givry, Grillot 1931 Witchcraft: Magic and Alchemy. Translated by J. Courtenay Locke. New York: Courier Dover. Durrant, Jonathan, and Michael D. Bailey 2012 Historical Dictionary of Witchcraft. Scarecrow Press. Evans-Pritchard, Edward E. 1973 Peoples of the Earth: Amazonia, Orinoco and Pampas. Danbury, CT: Danbury Press. Feldman, Lawrence H. 1983 Un reconocimiento de los recursos de Centroamérica en manuscritos chorti. In Introducción a la arqueología de Copán, Honduras, 144–94. Tegucigalpa, Honduras: Proyecto Arqueológico Copán, Secretaria de Estado en el Despacho de Cultura y Turismo. 2009 Some Data and Reflections on the Demographic Dynamism and Continuity of the Colonial Ch’orti’ Population: The Many Copáns and San Juan Ermita. In The Ch’orti’ Area, Past and Present, ed. Brent Metz, Cameron McNeil, and Kerry Hull, 148–56. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Foster, S., and R. L. Johnson 2008 National Geographic Desk Reference to Nature’s Medicine. Washington, DC: National Geographic Books. Fought, John G. 1965 Ch’orti’ Field Notes #000-030. https://www.ailla.utexas.org/islandora/object /ailla%3A177894. 1972 Chorti (Mayan) Texts. Vol. 1. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. N.d. Audio file. https://www.ailla.utexas.org/islandora/object/ailla%3A177884. The Smoking of Bones 147

Fuentes y Guzmán, Francisco Antonio de 1933 [1699] Recordación Florida: Discourso historical y demonstración natural, material, militar y política del reino de Guatemala. 2 vols. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Tiopgrafía Nacional. Gabriel, Marianne 2007 El uso ritual de alcohol, tabaco, cacao e incienso en las ceremonias agrarias de los Mayas yucatecos contemporáneos. Estudios de Cultura Maya 29:155– 84. Garrard-Burnett, Virginia 2000 Indians Are Drunks and Drunks Are Indians: Alcohol and Indigenismo in Guatemala, 1890–1940. Bulletin of Latin American Research 19:341–56. Gilman, Sander L., and Zhou Xun, eds. 2004 Smoke: A Global History of Smoking. London: Reaktion. Girard, Rafael 1947 Honduras: The Medicine Chest of the Chorti Indians. Boletín Indigenista (December):346–61. 1949 Los chortís ante el problema maya: Historia de las culturas indígenas de América, desde su origen hasta hoy. Vol. 1. Mexico City: Antigua Librería Robredo. 1995 The People of the Chan. Continuum Foundation. Gordon, Irene T. 2011 A People on the Move: The Métis of the Western Plains. Victoria, BC: Heritage House. Grégoire, Louis 1894 Diccionario enciclopédico de ciencias, literatura y artes. París: Garnier Hermanos. Groark, Kevin P. 2010 The Angel in the Gourd: Ritual, Therapeutic, and Protective Uses of Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum) among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. Journal of Ethnobiology 30(1):5–30. Guiley, Rosemary 2006 The Encyclopedia of Magic and Alchemy. New York: Infobase. 2010 The Encyclopedia of Witches, Witchcraft and Wicca. New York: Infobase. Harris, Kate L. 2009 Trees of Belize. Benque, Belize: BRC Printing. Heizer, Robert F., and Mary Ann Whipple 1971 The California Indians: A Source Book. Berkeley: University of California Press. Henderson, Lucia R. 2013 Bodies Politic, Bodies in Stone: Images of the Human and the Divine in the 14 8

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Sculpture of Late Preclassic Kaminaljuyú, Guatemala. PhD dissertation, University of Texas, Austin. Houston, Stephen D., David Stuart, and Karl Taube 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Hull, Kerry 2000 Cosmological and Ritual Language in Ch’orti’. http://www.famsi.org /reports/99036/99036Hull01.pdf. 2003 Verbal Art and Performance in Ch’orti’ and Maya Hieroglyphic Writing. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Texas, Austin. 2009 Dualism and Worldview among the Ch’orti’ Maya. In The Ch’orti’ Maya Area, Past and Present, ed. Brent E. Metz, Cameron L. McNeil, and Kerry M. Hull, 187–97. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. 2016 A Dictionary of Ch’orti’ Mayan–Spanish–English. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Kaufman, Terrence, with John Justeson 2003 A Preliminary Mayan Etymological Dictionary. FAMSI. http://www.famsi .org/reports/01051/pmed.pdf. Kavasch, B. 1979 Native Harvests: Recipes and Botanicals of the American Indians. New York: First Vintage. Keller, Kathyrn C., and Plácido Luciano G. 1997 Diccionario chontal de Tabasco (mayense). Tucson: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Kluckhohn, Clyde, and Mischa Titiev 1944 Old Oraibi: A Study of the Hopi Indians of Third Mesa. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum, Harvard University. Kufer, Johanna 2005 Plants Used as Medicine and Food by the Ch’orti’ Maya: Ethnobotanical Studies in Eastern Guatemala. PhD dissertation, Centre for Pharmacognosy and Phytotherapy, School of Pharmacy, University of London. 2009 Ajk’opot Gente: The Unrecognized Keepers of Maya Plant Lore. In The Ch’orti’ Maya Area, Past and Present, ed. Brent E. Metz, Cameron L. McNeil, and Kerry M. Hull, 198–213. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Kumar, Gnana Stanley Jaya 1996 Religion and Society. M. D. Publications. Kunow, Marianna A. 2003 Maya Medicine: Traditional Healing in Yucatan. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. The Smoking of Bones 14 9

La Barre, Weston 1948 The Aymara Indians of the Lake Titicaca Plateau, Bolivia. Menasha, WI: American Anthropological Association. Laughlin, Robert M. 1975 The Great Tzotzil Dictionary of San Lorenzo Zinacantán. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Laughlin, Robert M., and Carol Karasik 1998 Tales from Zinacantán. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Levy, Jerrold E. 1995 Hand Trembling, Frenzy Witchcraft, and Moth Madness: A Study of Navajo Seizure Disorders. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Lewis, W. H., and M. P. F. Elvin-Lewis 2003 Medical Botany: Plants Affecting Human Health. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. López Austin, Alfredo 1966 Los temacpalitotique: Brujos, profanadores, ladrones y violadores. Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl 6:97–117. López Garcia, Julián, and Brent Metz 2002 Primer Dios: Ethnografía y cambio social entre los mayas ch’orti’s del oriente de Guatemala. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales. Madsen, William 1957 Christo-Paganism: A Study of Mexican Religious Syncretism. In Nativism and Syncretism, ed. Munroe Edmonson, 105–80. New Orleans, LA: Tulane University. Malotki, Ekkehart, and Ken Gary 2006 Hopi Stories of Witchcraft, Shamanism, and Magic. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Mason, J. A. 1924 Use of Tobacco in Mexico and South America. Anthropology Leaflet 16: 1–15. McPherson, Robert S. 2012 Dinéjí Na’nitin: Navajo Traditional Teachings and History. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Melhorn, Gary 2015 The Esoteric Codex: Shapeshifters. N.p.: Lulu.com. Metz, Brent 2006 Ch’orti’ Maya Survival in Eastern Guatemala: Indigeneity in Transition. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2009 Searching for Ch’orti’ Maya Indigenousness in Contemporary Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador. In The Ch’orti’ Maya Area, Past and Present, ed. 15 0

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Brent E. Metz, Cameron L. McNeil, and Kerry M. Hull, 161–73. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Meuwese, Mark 2011 Brothers in Arms, Partners in Trade: Dutch-Indigenous Alliances in the Atlantic World, 1595–1674. Leiden, Netherlands: Brill. Murdy, Carson N. 2009 Archaeological Investigations in the Camotán Valley, Guatemala. In The Ch’orti’ Maya Area, Past and Present, ed. Brent E. Metz, Cameron L. McNeil, and Kerry M. Hull, 78–89. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Nations, James D. 2006 The Maya Tropical Forest: People, Parks, and Ancient Cities. Austin: University of Texas Press. Olavarrieta Marenco, M. 1977 Magia en los Tuxtlas. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional Indigenista. Orellana, Sandra Lee 1987 Indian Medicine in Highland Guatemala: The Pre-Hispanic and Colonial Periods. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Palma Ramos, Danilo A. 2001 Así somos y así vivimos: Los Ch’orti’. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Universidad Rafael Landivar. Parsons, Elsie W. C. 1929 Social Organization of the Tewa of New Mexico. Menasha, WI: American Anthropological Association. Paulik, Steve 2000 Will Big Trotter Reclaim His Place? The Role of the Wolf in Navajo Tradition. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 24(4):107–26. Pennacchio, Marcello, Lara Jefferson, and Kayri Havens 2010 Uses and Abuses of Plant-Derived Smoke: Its Ethnobotany as Hallucinogen, Perfume, Incense, and Medicine. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Preston, Douglas 1998 A Reporter at Large: Cannibals of the Canyon: Has a Controversial Anthropologist Uncovered the Truth about a Great Southwestern Civilization? New Yorker, November 30, 76–89. Raloff, Janet, and D. Pendick 1993 Corn’s Slow Path to Stardom. Science News 143(16) (April 17):248–50. Robicsek, Francis 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Rodrigues, Teresa, and Hoski Schaafsma 2008 Isolated Human Remains and the Archaeological Visibility of Prehistoric The Smoking of Bones 151

Ritual Practices in the American Southwest. In Reanalysis and Reinterpretation in Southwestern Bioarchaeology, ed. Ann Lucy Wiener Stodder and Nancy J. Akins, 3–54. Tempe: Arizona State University Press. Sahagún, Bernardino de 1950–1982 Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain (ca. 1578–79). 13 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Santa Fe, NM: SAR Press. Smole, William J. 1976 The Yanoama Indians: A Cultural Geography. Austin: University of Texas Press. Standley, Paul C., and Julian A. Steyermark 1946 Flora of Guatemala, vol. 24, pt. 4, of Fieldiana: Botany. Chicago: Chicago Natural History Museum. Stephen, Alexander 1936 Hope Journal. Vol. 1. Edited by Elsie Clews Parsons. New York: Columbia University Press. Summers, Montague 2000 Witchcraft and Black Magic. New York: Courier Dover. Swank, G. R. 1932 The Ethnobotany of the Acoma and Laguna Indians. MA thesis, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. Thompson, J. Eric 1997 Historia y religión de los mayas. Mexico City: Siglo XXI. Tierra, M. 1983 The Way of Herbs. New York: Washington Square Press. Tozzer, Alfred M. 1907 A Comparative Study of the Mayas and the Lacandones. New York: Macmillan. Uchmany de la Peña, Eva Alexandra 1967 Cuatro casos de idolatría en el área maya ante el tribunal de la inquisición. Estudios de Cultura Maya 6:267–300. Vázquez Hoys, Ana M. 2009 Arcana mágica: Diccionario de símbolos y términos mágicos. Editorial UNED. Villa Rojas, A. 1955 Los mazotecos y el problema indígena de la cuenca del Palaloapán. Memorias del Instituto Nacional Indigenista 7:114. Whiting, Alfred 1966 Ethnobotany of the Hopi. Flagstaff, AZ: Northland. Wilbert, Johannes

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1993 Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Winter, Joseph C. 2000 Tobacco Use by Native North Americans: Sacred Smoke and Silent Killer. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Wisdom, Charles 1940 The Chorti Indians of Guatemala. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Editorial José de Pineda Ibarra. 1950 Material on the Chorti Language. Microfilm Collection of Manuscripts on Meso-American Cultural Anthropology, no. 28. Chicago: University of Chicago. Wright, Mark, and Kerry Hull N.d. “Building Blood”: An Ethnographic Look at Plants in Medicine and Myth among the Mopan Maya of San José, Belize.

NOTES 1. Tobacco can have ritual or euphemistic names in Mayan languages. For example, in Tzotzil the term for “tobacco,” bankilal, means “chief ” or “older brother” (Laughlin and Karasik 1998:267; Groark, this volume). 2. Corn husks were most likely what was used by ancient Mesoamerican people to roll tobacco (Robicsek 1978:21). 3. Girard (1949:108) also records the term čanwaina for pipe (pipa). 4. Wisdom (1940:51) states that tobacco “is almost never chewed except in curing ailments” (but see Girard 1949:238). 5. The relationship between clouds of rain and the white clouds of tobacco smoke in Central and South American indigenous traditions has also been noted by Mason (1924:8). The Hopi mixed one of two native tobacco species together with other plants to produce yoyviva (rain tobacco) and omawviva (cloud tobacco), which were associated with clouds and causing rain (Malotki and Gary 2006:xxxviii; Whiting 1966:89; Stephen 1936:599). 6. Compare the use of tobacco in the Yucatán during the ch’a ch’áak rain ceremonies where tobacco and paraphernalia are placed on the altars “para llamar las Nubes a regarles sus Milpas” (to call the Clouds to water their Cornfields) (Uchmany de la Peña 1967:282; Barrera Marín et al. 1976:308). Tozzer (1907:142–43) states that the first Lacandon Maya tobacco of the crop each year must be given as an offering to the gods. 7. For a good discussion of the curative uses of tobacco by the ancient and modern Maya, see Houston et al. 2006:114–16.

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8. Compare to the Tz’utujil of Santiago Atitlán, who repeatedly apply a tobacco poultice onto a snakebite over the course of a day (Orellana 1987:63–64; see also Robicsek 1978). Tobacco is also preventative in regard to snakes for the Ch’orti’: chewed tobacco is sprayed in the face of large snakes that hang in trees in order to repel them (Laughlin 1975:241). This protective aspect of tobacco is widespread throughout Mesoamerica. For example, early Spanish explorers noted the indigenous use of tobacco as a preventative measure; its mere presence on one’s person would be enough to keep one “safe from poisonous animals” (Cervantes y Salazár 1914:18; Villa Rojas 1955:114). 9. Wisdom (1940:349n25) observes this same tradition of using the butts of cigars or cigarettes in healing: “Indian women are often seen in the pueblo streets and plaza picking up the butts of cigars and cigarettes which they sell to the curers, since partially smoked tobacco is believed to be especially efficacious in curing.” 10. For a comparable use among the Aztec, see Sahagún 1950–1982:10:144–45. 11. The Tzotzil also describe the “stupefying” (bolibtasobil) physiological effects of tobacco (Breedlove and Laughlin 1993:582). 12. In the Petén, according to Robicsek (1978:43), in like manner tobacco is said to dislodge chiclero fly larvae that have inserted themselves deep under the skin. 13. According to Wisdom (1940:337), before sorcerers begin the ritual, they consult their sajorín (the divining spirit residing in their limb) to determine which type of sorcery would be appropriate for the victim. This is done by chewing and spitting tobacco onto the limb (the left calf in the case of sorcerers) and asking the spirit a series of yes-no questions. 14. The spirit whom healers petition is called ajk’in or k’in in Ch’orti’, as well as sabio or sajorín in Spanish. The term k’in refers principally to the sun, and Wisdom (1940:347) specifically identifies the healing spirit as the “sun deity.” 15. Wisdom (1940:334, 347) similarly notes that the healer “sits next to the bed, chews tobacco, rubs the saliva on his right leg, and in a few minutes begins his diagnosis.” 16. Sage or artemisia can be used instead of tobacco (Wisdom 1940:331). 17. In Yucatán, tobacco has a ritual function of purification (puus). According to Gabriel (2007:174), “En rituales de purificación, el tabaco (k’uutz) sirve como antídoto en ritos apotropaícos para alejar a las fuerzas malignas del terreno así protegido donde permanece enterrado” (In purification rituals, tobacco [k’uutz] serves as an antidote in apotropaic rites to ward off the evil forces of thus protected ground where it remains buried). 18. Kufer (2005:112–13) describes the process in more detail: “The sahumerio is a form of ritual cleansing with smoke produced by burning copal resin and other ritual plants such as tobacco, Mexican marigold and dried ornamental plants after they have been used for adorning an altar or cross. Another form of ritual cleansing 15 4

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is soplar (‘blowing’), which is carried out by chewing a ritual plant such as rue or tobacco and spraying the saliva over the patient.” 19. Laughlin and Karasik (1998:267) also note the widespread use of tobacco as a protector on the roads in Chiapas and Guatemala. 20. For an exhaustive treatment of tobacco substitutes across the globe, see Pennacchio et al. 2010. 21. Chi’chi’b’ej in Mopan can also be used for arrowleaf sida (Sida rhombifolia L.), whose leaves are used as a remedy for certain types of conditions on the skin, such as bumps, boils, and festering wounds (Wright and Hull n.d.). 22. The root of “strength” in this clause is ’ip-. There is an important connection between ’ip and tobacco and its protective powers. A Chamula Tzotzil explains: Tobacco is called koltaob-bail [“helper” or “assistant”] because it has power [’ip], it has strength [pwersa]. When we prepare chewing tobacco and put it in the gourd, Our Father blesses it. It has power and strength because Our Father used it long ago. Just as you might carry it with you, so he carried it about with him. If you go out walking now, you take it with you, because it has power. Nothing will happen to you as you walk down the trail, even at night. If there’s a demon [pukuj], he won’t approach, because [the tobacco] you are carrying with you has much stronger power. The demon doesn’t have power like that. If all you’ve got with you is a cigarette you’ll die really quickly because a mere cigarette can’t defend [-poj] you. But if you have tobacco it will drive away the demon, because tobacco has its power. So if you have it with you, you too will have more power. (Groark 2010:23)

In the expression on Copan Stela A, it may be significant that the bones, blood, and shaved bones of the dead are said to provide “many strengths” (bolon ’ip) to the possessor, possibly linking this rite to a bone-smoking event as a tobacco substitute or to a more general pulverized bone ritual. In the Ch’orti’ rite, no mention of blood is noted. Among the Apache of the Southwest, however, Basso (1969:34) describes a “sorcerer’s poison” that is made from pulverized human skin and menstrual fluid. The skin comes from a body exhumed from a grave. 23. Compare to Chontal susom rasurar, afeitar, pelar (scrape, shave, peel) (Keller and Luciano G. 1997:220). 24. Human finger bones are pulverized and used in sorcery rites involving animal transformation by traditional indigenous groups of California (Heizer and Whipple 1971:546). 25. Tobacco is used elsewhere to magically put people to sleep. During foot races, the Tarahumara of northwestern Mexico blow tobacco smoke toward opposing runners in order to make them sleepy (Winter 2000:49). Cigar smoke is also part of Ch’orti’ sorcery rites outside of the context of smoking bones. Just as tobacco can be used in healing rites, it can be used in sorcery. In Ch’orti’ the expression jujta musik’ means “to cast a spell with tobacco smoke.” A sorcerer blows a mouthful of cigar

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smoke in the direction of someone in order to kill them by placing a curse on them (Hull 2016). 26. Basso (1969:34) describes a similar practice among Apache sorcerers: “They then remove their clothes and, completely naked, begin to dance round the blaze holding high over their heads the remains of corpses (nde dastsa) exhumed from graves.” Ch’orti’ sorcerers also are known to go out to the middle of cornfields at midnight, strip naked, and dance around while chanting the words of curses. 27. Skinwalkers are also held in disdain for engaging in other offensive behaviors, such as cannibalism and incest (Paulik 2000:116). 28. The term áńt’į́į́h simply means “poison,” but it is used at times to refer to corpse poison. 29. Cunningham (1992:154) notes that corpse power, which represents disharmony, stands in opposition to the positive life force associated with corn pollen, which represents harmony. 30. Rodrigues and Schaafsma (2008:32–37) have shown that indigenous graves throughout the Southwest have a high number of missing body parts when excavated, possibly suggestive of their removal for witchcraft.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

“Tobacco” as Mentioned in Hieroglyphic Texts on Classic Maya Pottery Flasks and in the Late Postclassic Codices An Essay on the Hieroglyphic Signs Used ERIK BOOT

The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the US Library of Congress in Washington, DC, contains some 150 Classic Maya pottery flasks of various shapes and sizes.1 Unfortunately, the provenance of these small flasks and most flasks in other collections is unknown (unless, of course, they were excavated; Eppich and Navarro-Farr, this volume) but most, based on analyses of style, image, and text (e.g., painting, modeling, iconographic theme, shape, hieroglyphic content), can be assigned to the northern Maya lowlands, the central Maya lowlands, the Guatemalan highlands, and the southeastern Maya area in Honduras. Some 50 flasks from the Kislak Collection and other archaeological projects within the Classic Maya area were examined for the presence of alkaloids. One particular small flask, discoid in shape and painted in a tradition referred to by Maya specialists as Codex style (Robicsek and Hales 1981),2 contains a short text that reads yotoot ’umahy, “[it is] the home of his [her, its] tobacco.” Samples extracted from this flask were examined by gas chromatography/mass spectrometry (GC/MS) and liquid chromatography/mass spectrometry (LC/ MS) methods. Only the samples from this flask tested positive for the presence of ancient nicotine, an indication that it once contained some kind of product made of tobacco leaves (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012; Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016). In this chapter I analyze the hieroglyphic text on this small flask and other examples known to me that contain the word mahy (tobacco). I introduce some specific sign inventories from which the ancient Maya scribes extracted

some of the particular signs used. Not only the written word mahy is analyzed, but also the word ’otoot (house, in the sense of home) as it refers to this specific flask, to two other flasks used for mahy, and to an interesting collection of other Classic Maya portable objects. I also discuss the word k’uhtz (tobacco) as employed in the Late Postclassic Maya codices or screenfold books.3 MAHY, “TOBACCO,” IN CLASSIC M AYA H I E R O G LY P H I C T E X T S

The small flask in the Kislak Collection is one of three pottery flasks that contain the Classic Maya word mahy (tobacco) with which I am familiar. The shortest text (two collocations) is recorded on the flask in the Kislak Collection (no. 41.1); and a slightly longer text (four collocations) is recorded on a discoid flask (discussed in Stuart 2005a:131) that is part of a yet unidentified collection (photographs in my possession).4 The longest text (twelve collocations) is incised into a small bottle that is part of the collection of the Ethnologisches Museum in Berlin (no. IV Ca 50139), formerly part of the Pelling/ Zarnitz Collection.5 The text on the flask in the Kislak Collection can be analyzed as (front of flask) yo-’OTOT-ti and (back of flask) ‘u-ma-ya for yotoot ’umahy, “[it is] the house [in the sense of home] of the [his, her, its] tobacco” (figure 7.1a). The text on the discoid flask from an unknown collection is slightly longer and can be analyzed as (side 1) yo-to-ti ‘u-MAY-ya and (side 2) ‘a-ku MO’-’o for yotoot ’umahy ’ahkul mo’, “[it is] the house [in the sense of home] of the tobacco of ’Ahk Mo’ [a personal name meaning Turtle Macaw]” (figure 7.1b). The text on the third container, a small round bottle with two suspension holes, has a long double-column text (figure 7.1c). A full analysis is presented here, although not all hieroglyphic signs can be identified, because it provides an important clue to the provenance of the flask: (A1) yo-to-ti, (B1) ‘u-ma-ya, (A2) ‘IXIK, (B2) chi-la-ni, (A3) . . . -ki, (B3) 7-TZ’IKIN-na, (A4) . . . -na, (B4) che-he-na, (A5) . . . -lo, (B5) ba, (A6) ‘i-5-K’IN-ni, (B6) SAK-[‘u]NAL. The text reads (A1–A4) yotoot ’umahy ’ixik . . . -k chilaan huk/wuk tz’ikiin . . . -n, “[it is] the house [in the sense of home] of the tobacco of Lady (’ixik) Chilaan . . . Seven [huk/wuk] Bird/Eagle [tz’ikiin] . . . ,” (B4–B6) cheheen . . . . . . ‘i’ ho’ k’in sakunal, “say [che-] I [-een], . . . . . . I’ Ho’ K’in of Sakunal.” The text identifies the owner of the “home” (’otoot) for tobacco (mahy) as a woman (’ixik, “lady”); this ownership is said (cheheen > cheh-een, “say I”; compare Grube 1998 for an 15 8

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[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

C

A

D

B

E

F I G UR E 7.1  Mahy, “tobacco,” in Maya hieroglyphic texts: (a) Kislak Collection, Washington, DC: yo-’OTOT-ti ‘u-ma-ya, yotoot umahy; (b) unknown collection: yo-to[ti] ‘u-MAY-ya, yotoot ’umahy; (c) Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin: [yo]to-ti u-ma-ya, yotoot ’umahy; (d) private collection: broad-rimmed jar painted on Codex-style vase: ma-ya, mahy; (e) Calakmul, Structure 1-4 submural: ‘AJ ma-yi, ’aj mahy.

alternative: chehen as a quotative particle, “it is said”) by another person who is (in part) identified as I Ho’ K’in from a place identified as Sakunal. This place name (nal, “place, toponymic suffix”) occurs in hieroglyphic texts from the archaeological site of Oxkintok in the Puuc region of Yucatán and on a variety of so-called Chocholá-style ceramic vessels (e.g., Boot 2009a:158 and n. 227; Boot 2010:3, 9). This flask may thus come from Oxkintok or its direct environs.6 Samples from this flask were tested for nicotine, but this substance was not identified as present (Grube and Gaida 2006:189). Most interestingly, the side opposite the incised text shows a (female?) portrait surrounded by various leaves, which probably are tobacco (Grube and Gaida 2006:190). The word mahy for “tobacco” occurs in hieroglyphic texts on three small pottery flasks, one of which has been chemically tested and indeed contained remnants of nicotine (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012). Mahy is “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 15 9

spelled either ma-ya or MAY-ya. The spelling ma-ya (employing another sign for ma) occurs on a small broad-rimmed jar from which an anthropomorphic actor has taken a substance with a spatula, painted within a visual narrative on a Codex-style vessel of unknown provenance (identified first by David Stuart and discussed and illustrated in Martin 2012:66–67, fig. 15) (figure 7.1d). An alternative spelling to ma-ya and MAY-ya for mahy can also be found. The informative, large, and exquisitely executed mural paintings at Structure 1.4 submural at Calakmul contain a panel in which two male human figures are seated facing each other. The person on the right has administered to the other person some kind of potion with a spatula from a small broad-rimmed jar he holds in his left hand. The short hieroglyphic text between the two figures reads ‘AJ ma-yi for ’aj mahy, or “tobacco person [aj]” (Martin 2012:66–67, figs. 13–14) (figure 7.1e). Thus, there are various spellings for the word mahy.7 While mahy commonly is translated as “tobacco (Sp. tabaco)” (e.g., Kaufman 2003:1144), ethnographic descriptions and entries in various Mayan languages provide important additional specifications. In colonial Cakchiquel the word may is simply defined as “el tabaco” (Vico ca. 1555:fol. 123r, line 14), and in present-day Tojolabal may refers to “tabaco, cigarro” (Lenkersdorf 2008, 1:417). In present-day Tzotzil one can find moi to refer to tobacco; in Larráinzar Tzotzil it can be found as mui (Guiteras-Holmes 1961:209, 217, 235, 264; cf. Delgaty and Ruíz Sánchez 1978:84). In present-day Tzotzil moi is also defined as “powdered native tobacco” (Gossen 1999:139). This particular definition compares well with colonial Yucatec Maya in which may can be found as identifying “un polvillo que sale del ají o chile y del tobacco cuando lo tratan con las manos, que hace estornudar” (Barrera Vásquez 1980:513). Additionally, colonial Yucatec Maya provides the entry ’u may ’ik, “polvillo delicado y fuerte que sale de chile y tabaco cuando lo manosean” (Barrera Vásquez 1980:513).8 In late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Tzeltal mai is described as “powdered green tobacco, mixed with lime and chili; it is dipped with a little stick and chewed or sucked, ‘to strengthen the teeth.’ It is probably a stimulant, and enables one to withstand the fatigue of the road. It is also called pilico, and is, no doubt, the pisiete of the Mazatecs” (Starr 1900–1902:2:71). It was, at that time, carried in a two-chamber bottle gourd (figure 7.2a). Elsewhere, the same author describes tobacco use among the Tzendales of Tenejapa in more or less the same wording, but he adds additional detail: “Most of the men carry a little sack, netted from strong

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fiber, slung at one side. Among other trifling possessions in it, is generally a little gourd filled with a green powder, which they call mai, or pelico. It consists chiefly of tobacco, with a mixture of lime and chili, and is chewed, no doubt, for stimulating properties—to remove the weariness of the road, and ‘to strengthen the teeth,’ as some say” (Starr 1908:367). In present-day Tzeltal may (or one of its metaphorical expressions, bankilal; see Groark, this volume) refers to chewing tobacco; it is carried in a cul bankilal, “tobacco’s bottle gourd [cul].” Tobacco leaves are pounded together with lime to become a chewing tobacco (Berlin et al. 1974:130, 132, 444–45). In the 1940s in Oxchuc, Chiapas, the local healers and authorities used to cleanse themselves with pílico, “una mixtura de tabaco silvestre (piciete) y cal”; it was carried in small gourds (Villa Rojas 1982:154–55). Piciete is a loanword from Nahuatl, the original word being picietl, “yerua como veleño, que es medicinal” (Molina 1571:2:fol. 81v, col. 1, line 32). In Spanish beleño identifies a plant belonging to the Solanaceae (nightshades), to which tobacco indeed belongs (Killebrew and Myrick 1897:27; Linnaeus 1753:1:180–81).9 The Relación de Texcoco, written in 1582, provides some more detail on the use of picietl in central Mexico: La yerba que llaman picietl, que, según dicen, es la misma que en España llaman beleño, aprovechándose de ella para dormir y amortiguar las carnes y no sentir el mucho trabajo que padece el cuerpo trabajando. La cual toman seca, molida y mojada y envuelta con una poca de cal, en la boca, puesta entre el labio y las encías, tanta cantidad como cabr[í]a en una avellana, al tiempo que van a dormir o a trabajar. . . . También toma desta yerba por humo, en cañutos de caña, envuelto con liquidámbar; porque, atestados della [los cañutos], los encienden por el un cabo y, por el otro, los chupan. (Bautista de Pomar 1984:109) [The herb that they call picietl, they say, is the same as henbane in Spain. (They) take advantage of it to sleep and relax the flesh and not feel the impact of the body working. They take the dry herb, grind it, and wet it wrapped with a little lime, (and put it) in the mouth, placed between the lip and gums, as much as fits in a hazelnut, while they go to sleep or work. . . . They also take this herb for smoke, in cane tubes (pipes), rolled and dampened; the filled tubes they light them by the end and, on the other (end), they suck them.]

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F I G UR E 7.2  Vessels for tobacco: (a) gourd for mai/pílico, perhaps from Cancuc or Tenejapa (Starr 1900–1902:fig. 47); (b) ceramic container for peligo from Chanal named balal oxom (Deal 1998:fig. B38.30); (c) gourds for moy (left: San Juan Chamula, right: Tenejapa) (Groark, this volume, figure 4.4).

As these descriptions make clear, for both the Maya area and central Mexico, tobacco was used in a ground mixture and taken orally in addition to being smoked. Among the Tzeltal of the community of Chanal a tobacco-lime mixture referred to as peligo was used;10 the peligo was, in former times, temporarily stored in ceramic containers cylindrical and oval in shape, which were named in Tzeltal balal oxom and in Spanish olla or tecomate, “gourd” (Deal 1998:199, fig. B38.30) (figure 7.2b). Among the present-day Tzotzil of San Juan Chamula, Chiapas, fresh tobacco leaves are mixed with slaked lime and ground to a snufflike substance, which is taken orally (Groark, this volume, figures 4.2, 4.3) and serves as a protective and therapeutic agent. This mixture is referred to, among other (socially and religiously determined) metaphorical terms, as moy and is stored and carried in highly polished gourds (figure 7.2c), referred to as stzual moy (the gourd [tzu] of tobacco) and yavil moy (the vessel or place [av] of tobacco) (av, “place, jug”; Laughlin 1975:48, 1988:138–39; see also Groark, this volume). 16 2

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T H E H I E R O G LY P H I C S I G N M AY : F E E T, C L A W S , A N D W I N G S I N M AYA W R I T I N G

The word mahy for “tobacco” occurs in at least five Classic hieroglyphic texts. Four times it is spelled with common syllabic signs, three times as ma-ya, and one time as ma-yi. The fifth spelling can be transcribed MAY-ya and employs the split hoof of a deer, MAY. This deer hoof sign was deciphered as MAY in the late 1970s or early 1980s: Linda Schele transcribed the sign as such in her 1982 notebook for the Maya meetings in Austin, Texas (Schele 1982:64). The deer hoof sign occurs in the text of the Palace Tablet and identifies a specific youth event at Palenque (figure 7.3a). In this youth event the spellings MAY, MAY-yi-ji, and MAY-ji seem to target the word mayij, which may mean “gift, offering, sacrifice” (Boot 2009a:129; Stuart 2005b:41, 154, 171).11 The event itself was probably named k’al- mayij (to present mayij).12 At Tortuguero, the word mayij can be found spelled ma-yi-ji (figure 7.3b). The MAY (deer hoof) sign occurs in the spelling of two toponyms. On the two vessels cataloged as K0558 (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, no. 1988.1170)

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F I G UR E 7. 3  MAY, “deer hoof ”: (a) Palenque, Temple of the Cross Tablet C3: ‘i-’u-K’AL[MAY], ’i-uk’al mayij; Palace Tablet G14: ‘u-MAY-yi-ji, ’umayij, and E8, K’AL[MAY]ji-ja, k’ahlaj mayij; (b) Tortuguero box: ‘u-ma-yi-ji, umayij; (c) Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: K0558, ‘AJ-ya-MAY-’o, aj yamay o’; (d) vessel in private collection: ‘OL-MAY BAK?-TUN?-ni, yohl may . . . ; (e) Yaxchilan incised bones: ‘u-MAY-ya-li bak-ki, umayjil baak, and ‘u-MAY-ji li-ba-ki, ’umayjil baak; (f) Comalcalco Urn 26, Pendants 17A and 18A: ‘u-MAY-ji, umayij.

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and K2352 (Cleveland Museum of Art, no. 2012.32), it is used in the title of origin spelled ‘AJ-ya-MAY-’o or aj yamay o’ (aj, “person from”; o’, “place, toponymic marker”) (figure 7.3c).13 The part yamay may mean “the [y-] corner [amay]” (Barrera Vásquez 1980:15, ’amay, “esquina o cantero”). On a vessel of unknown provenance, it is used in the spelling of the possible toponym ‘OLMAY, [y]ohl may, “[the, y-] heart [ohl] of may” (figure 7.3d).14 As the examples that lead to mahy (tobacco) make clear, the syllabic pair ma-ya and ma-yi substituted for the deer hoof, MAY. These syllabic spellings thus confirm the early decipherment of the MAY (deer hoof) logograph. In at least three (Yucatecan) Mayan languages, may means “deer hoof.” In Itzaj Maya, the word may means “hoof, cloven hoof, foot with a cloven hoof ” (Hofling and Tesucún 1997:432–33). In Yucatec Maya, may means “pata hendidad en dos partes, uña de animal patihendo y aun de caballo; u may yuk, k’ek’en: pie de cabra o puerco” (Barrera Vásquez 1980:513; cf. Bricker et al. 1998:181, màay, “hoof ”; umàay kéeh, “the deer’s hoof ”). In Lacandon de San Quentin, Chiapas, may is defined as “pata (uña) de venado, puerco, etc.” (Canger 1969:n.p.). In Maya script, the deer hoof sign is employed first in the hieroglyphic text incised on the cover of an Early Classic lip-to-lip cache vessel (Berjonneau and Sonnery 1985:fig. 452), which was offered for sale by its owner, Vanden Avenne (Binoche and Giquello 2016:148–52) (figure 7.4a, top). During the Classic period it was employed at, for instance, Palenque, Yaxchilan (figure 7.3e), and Comalcalco (figure 7.3f). At Comalcalco, probably the “latest” usage of the MAY deer hoof sign can be identified. The deer hoof sign for MAY is one of several hieroglyphic signs that employ the extremity of an animal for specific logographic and/or syllabic values.15 The paw of the jaguar is used as ‘ICH’AK, “jaguar paw” (’ihch’aak) (figure 7.4b); a slightly differently rendered paw of a jaguar may have another logographic value (figure 7.4c). A bird’s foot showing three toes with prominent nails most probably depicts the foot of a harpy eagle (or another large raptor) (figure 7.4d). The harpy eagle has three front toes and a hind toe; this sign only shows the three front toes. The rows of dots may be an abstraction of the scales on each toe. The so-called wing sign (T77 and variant signs) for k’i shows one or two wings, while a unique Early Classic example (part of a highly sophisticated fine-line incised dedicatory text on a vessel excavated at Caracol; Chase and Chase 2014:cover, figs. 119b, 122a, 123) shows a complete bird, a black vulture

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F I G UR E 7. 4  Animal extremities in Maya writing: (a) MAY (deer hoof), top to bottom: Early Classic cache vessel; Palenque Palace Tablet; Comalcalco pendant; (b) ‘ICH’AK (jaguar paw), top to bottom: Tikal Stela 31; Calakmul plate; Seibal hieroglyphic stairway; Tikal Temple 1; (c) jaguar paw sign, top to bottom: Yaxchilan Lintel 26; Site R Lintel; Piedras Negras Throne 1; (d) eagle foot, top to bottom: Calakmul plate; Dos Pilas, Structure N5-3A Throne; Ek’ Balam, Column 1; (e) k’i (bird’s wing), top to bottom: Bedran (Belize) Burial 2, Vessel 2; K1183; Caracol Early Classic bowl.

T H E D E E R I N M AYA H I E R O G LY P H I C W R I T I N G

The may hoof sign is not the only part of the deer that occurs in Maya script. The fourth-century Motmot Marker from Copan shows the back haunches of a deer and possibly directs to some kind of deer offering (figure 7.5a). A similar sign, on its own or combined with the sign for waaj (bread), can be found in the Late Postclassic codices or screenfold books from the northern Maya lowlands (figure 7.5b). In some cases the back haunches are replaced by a deer head (figure 7.5c). As these books contain many Cholan entries, such as aj chij (deer hunter; see below), it is not clear if the Cholan phrase chijil waaj (venison bread) was meant (note sak chijil waaj, “white venison bread,” on K5460 and K6080; see Zender 2000) or its Yucatecan equivalent ke[e]jel waaj (ceheluah, “tamales de venado”; Molina Solis 1896:271n1).17

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F I G UR E 7.5  Deer offerings, deer heads: (a) Copan, Motmot Marker, deer offering; (b) Codex Dresden, deer offering: left, page 23B5, and right, page 30B2; (c) Madrid Codex, deer offering, page 78A3; (d) Altar de Sacrificios Stela 4, deer heads, CHIJ, chij; (e) deer heads as chi (left to right: K8252, K8339, K7147); (f) La Corona: day names “4 Deer,” chan chij (Hieroglyphic Stairway 2, Block VIII), and “1 Deer,” juun chij (Hieroglyphic Stairway 2, Block IX); (g) Palenque Palace Tablet, deer head with crossed bones in eye in distance number, “0 days” (perhaps mihil he’w?); (h) K1398, deer head with jawbone as eye.

A deer head occurs for the first time in the text on Altar de Sacrificios, Stela 4, of Late Classic date (AD 634) (figure 7.5d). There it most probably functions as CHIJ and directs to chij (deer; part of a woman’s name). Deer head signs are frequently employed in dedicatory texts on ceramics, especially from the greater El Zotz area (figure 7.5e), in which they function as syllabic chi and substitute for the common T671 hand sign chi (e.g., Boot 2003:2). This substitution also occurs in a calendrical context, in which the deer head is used as CHIJ for the Classic Maya seventh day name chij, “deer” (figure 7.5f). The hand sign chi that substitutes for the deer head in the seventh day (e.g., Palenque, Tablet of the 96 Glyphs, H1, H7) simply spells chi, an underspelling for chij, “deer” (Kaufman 2003:583–84). There is also another calendrical context in which a deer head occurs; instead of a normal eye it has crossed bones, and it substitutes for the k’in (day) sign in distance numbers (figure 7.5g). Since it substitutes in this context for a regular sign for syllabic he, T574, this particular multigraphic deer head sign probably has the same value. A similar deer sign, 16 6

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with a lower jawbone as its eye, is known from a single context (K1398) (figure 7.5h). It remains without decipherment. In Yucatán there is a supernatural entity considered master (Sp. dueño) of the deer, who is named Yum Sip or simply Sip (zip) in the present day (e.g., Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934:112, 117–18, 127, 131, 140, 263, 350). The name is also known from the Codex Dresden (page 13C1), where it is given as 7-si-pu for Wuk Si’p (figure 7.6a). It refers to a black old god with an antler on his forehead, who is portrayed in the image seated in front of and interacting with a deer. At Dos Pilas, an old god head with a large eye and antler is prefixed with the sign ‘IK’, “black” (figure 7.6b). This combination reminds me of the Yucatecan Ek’ Sipilob (ekzipilob; -ob, plural marker), “Black Sipiles,” or Ek’ Sipob (ekzipob), “Black Sipes,” invoked in an incantation to ask for success in the hunt (Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934:350–51). Perhaps the Classic Maya supernatural entity mentioned at Dos Pilas was named Ik’ Si’p (compare Grube 2002; also compare Grube 2012, which does not consider this Classic Maya example). In colonial Yucatán, supernatural entities named Aj Wuk Yol Sip (colonial spelling: ah vuc yol sip), Wuk Yol Sip (vuc yol çip), Ju’n Sip Kaan (hun sip can), Ju’n Sip Muyal (hun sip muyal), and Suhuy Sipil (zuhuyzipi) were mentioned in several incantations in “Ritual of the Bacabs” (Roys 1965:40–41, 93–94), The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel (Gordon 1913:44, line 17), and the Relación de las cosas de Yucatán (Landa 1566:fol. 41r, line 27). Interestingly, the number seven can be found infixed into the deer head presented by a king on Lamanai Stela 9, of Late Classic date (stela dedicated AD 625) (figure 7.6c). Perhaps the facts that chij (deer) was the seventh day of the twenty days of the Maya calendar and that “seven” begins the name of the supernatural entity Wuk Sip and occurs in the head of a deer at Lamanai are all connected. Several Classic Maya hieroglyphic texts employ the head of an old god with a large round eye who has an antler on his forehead. It is substituted by an antler sign (figure 7.6d). The deer antler sign and the god head with antler have tentatively been deciphered as xulub or xulab (Lopes and Davletshin 2004).18 Interestingly, in Maya script the skull of a deer is also employed. This head sign is skeletal and has a typical deer ear. It is, however, employed as the sign for BAK in various examples of the emblem glyph of the polity of Palenque (figure 7.6e), in the “count of captives” collocation (figure 7.6f), in the verbal expression baknaj (captured; figure 7.6g), and in a spelling of the word baak (bone; figure 7.6h).19 While chij (deer) can be found in Cholan languages, the Yucatecan language “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 16 7

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F I G U R E 7. 6  Deer gods, deer skulls, and hunters: (a) Codex Dresden, page 13C1:

7-si-pu, wuk si’p; (b) Dos Pilas Hieroglyphic Stairway 4: ‘IK’-SIP?, ’ik’ si’p; (c) Lamanai Stela 9: deer head with infixed number 7; (d) Yaxchilan: antler sign and antler deer god sign, xulab/xulub; (e) Palenque Temple XXI: K’UH-[BAK]’AJAW, k’uhul bakal/-e’l ’ajaw; (f) example of k’uhul bakal’ajaw; (g) Machaquila Stela 2: ‘AJ-5-BAK-ki, aj ho’ baak; (h) Tikal Temple 4: BAK-na-ja, baknaj; (i) Dzibilchaltun Structure 42, incised bone: BAK-ki, baak; (j) Madrid Codex: (left) page 41B3, ‘AJ-chi-ji, aj chij, (right) page 42B2, ‘AJ-chi, aj chij; (k) K4481: ‘AH-chi-hi, ah chih.

provides ke[e]j (keh, keeh) (Barrera Vásquez 1980:308; Bricker et al. 1998:125; Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934:48). This word for “deer” can be found in hieroglyphic texts as the logograph KEJ as well as spelled syllabically ke-je. Most notable are the three Classic examples for the still-existing toponym Akankej (the common present-day spelling in Yucatán is Acanceh), one of which was found in a mural painting at the archaeological site of Acanceh (figures 7.7a–c). Kej can also be found in another name, Kalkeejto’k’, spelled syllabically twice as ka-la ke-ji to-TOK’ at Chichen Itza (figures 7.7d, e).20 In Yucatec Maya the referent for “hunter” (Sp. cazador) is aj kej (ah keh, “flechero asi; cazador a montero, diestro en flechar animales”; Barrera Vásquez 1980:308). The Cholan version aj chij (spelled ‘AJ-chi-ji and ‘AJ-chi) can be found recorded in the Late Postclassic Madrid Codex (figure 7.6i) and in the 16 8

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Late Classic as ah chih on a Chocholá-style ceramic vessel from northern Yucatán (precise provenance unknown) (figures 7.6j, k). In the latter example, the spelling is not chi-ji but chi-hi (see Boot 2009a:16n6).21 O T O O T ( H O M E ) I N D E D I C AT O R Y F O R M U L A S A N D S I M P L E N A M E TA G S O N P O R TA B L E O B J E C T S

The hieroglyphic texts on the three flasks identify the container for mahy (tobacco) as ’otoot (house [in the sense of home]) (figures 7.8a–c). Mayan languages distinguish between naah (house [as the actual structure]) and ’otoot (house [in the sense of home or dwelling]; Sp. hogar) (Stuart 1988:376; although there are crossovers, see Kaufman 2003:947–49). However, these three small flasks are not the only portable objects that the Classic Maya on occasion referred to as ’otoot (house [in the sense of home]). A lidded vessel excavated at Tikal (K8009) is also named [yo]’OTOT for yotoot (figure 7.8d). The text on a small alabaster container shaped like an old god (most probably an Itzam, perhaps even Itzam K’an Ahk; compare K1285) excavated at El Perú-Waka’ opens with yo-’OTOT-ti for yotoot (figure 7.8e). At the end of the long text on the Tortuguero box (Kislak Collection), the box itself is identified as yo-’OTOT-ti or yotoot (figure 7.8f). A footed bowl in the Holmul style (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston) contains a dedicatory text in

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F I G UR E 7. 7  Ke[e]j in Maya writing: (a) gourd-shaped ceramic bowl: [‘AKAN]KEJ]’AJAW-wa, ’ahkan kej ’ajaw; (b) Acanceh, mural: ‘AKAN-na KEJ . . . , ’ahkan kej . . . ; (c) Chochola bowl, National Museum of the American Indian, 23-8346: ‘AKAN-na ke-je ‘AJAW-wa, ’ahkan kej ’ajaw; (d) Yula Lintel 1: ka-la-ke ji-to-TOK’, kalkeejto’k; (e) Yula Lintel 2: ka-la-ke ji-to-TOK’, kalkeejto’k.

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F I G U R E 7. 8  Objects named ’otoot, “house [in the sense of

home]”: (a) Kislak Collection, flask: yo-’OTOT-ti; (b) unknown collection, flask: yo-to[ti]; (c) Ethnologisches Museum, flask: [yo]to-ti; (d) Tikal Deposit 198, cache vessel: [yo]’OTOT; (e) El Perú-Waka’, alabaster container: yo-’OTOT-ti; (f) Tortuguero, wooden box: yo-’OTOT-ti; (g) Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, footed bowl: yo-’OTOT; (h) unknown collection, ceramic plate: yo-’OTOT-ti; (i) Sacul, broad-rimmed jar: [yo]to-ti?; (j) private collection, broad-rimmed jar on unprovenanced Codex-style vessel (top), and broad-rimmed jar held in hand in Calakmul mural (bottom).

which the bowl is identified as yo-’OTOT or yotoot (figure 7.8g). A Codex-style plate (of unknown provenance and part of an unknown collection) contains a dedicatory text with an extended vessel type identification, which opens with yo-’OTOT-ti for yotoot (figure 7.8h). A vessel excavated at Sacul provides an elaborate visual narrative of a mythological court, including a woman depicted wearing a Maize God skirt, holding a rabbit, and seated on a sky throne. Below this throne are three broad-rimmed vessels, one of which seems to be marked with yo[to]-ti for yotoot (figure 7.8i). If this last identification is correct, perhaps the broad-rimmed vessel marked with ma-ya for mahy and the unmarked broad-rimmed vessel at Calakmul were once identified as yotoot (house [in the sense of home]) as well (figure 7.8j). Future excavations and 17 0

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research in public and private collections may provide additional examples of yotoot-marked Classic Maya objects (for earlier research, see Boot 2009b; Houston 1998; Stuart 2005a:131). K ’ U H T Z ( T O B A C C O ) I N T H E M AYA C O D I C E S

While mahy (tobacco) is employed on three pottery flasks and in two painted visual narratives, another word for “tobacco” also is employed in Maya hieroglyphic texts. The Codex Dresden, a Late Postclassic screenfold book, provides a short almanac with two images and explanatory texts on page 15A2–A3. In the texts, two collocations can be found that refer to tobacco (figure 7.9a). In section A3 one can find the spelling K’UH~k’u-tzi-li for k’uhtzil, and in A2 one can find tzi-K’UH~k’u,22 an erroneously inverted spelling most probably also leading to k’uhtzil (Boot 2009a:120). In many Mayan languages, k’uhtz means “tobacco” (Kaufman 2003:1147; also note, in original spellings, Lacandon k’uÇ, “tabaco, cigarro, puro,” Canger 1969:n.p.; Ch’ol c’ujts, “tabaco,” Aulie and Aulie 2009:22, 175; Ch’olti’ cuctz, “tabaco,” Moran 1695:167, line 25; and Boot 2004:43; Chuj k’utz, “piciete, tobacco,” Hopkins 2012:44; Mopan c’uutz, “tabaco,” Ulrich and Ulrich 1976:64; Yucatec k’uts, k’uutz, “tabaco, piciete,” Barrera Vásquez 1980:425). In the first section the god mentioned is God D or Itzamnah; in the second section it is a god related to death. In both associated pictures one can identify a plant with short stalks and cordiform leaves, but no inner details like the midrib or veins are shown. I suggest that these are tobacco leaves (for the full illustration, see Codex Dresdensis n.d.:15; Villacorta and Villacorta 1930:40).23 The Madrid Codex, also Late Postclassic in manufacture, on page 96B2–B3, contains the same short almanac (and the same column of day names, [5] Ajaw, Eb, K’an, Kib, Lamat). Also, each section contains a reference to tobacco (figure 7.9b). In section B2 one can find k’u, and in section B3 one can find k’u-tzi-li for k’uhtzil; k’u is an extreme abbreviation to spell k’uhtzil. In the associated image, the bodies of two gods actually form a U-shaped tree that has several branches with obovate (more than cordiform) leaves; again, the midrib and veins are not shown, but also in this case I suggest these are tobacco leaves (for the full illustration, see Villacorta and Villacorta 1930:416). The platform at Uxmal referred to as Monument 4 has survived in several fragments. Fragment B contains four collocations, the first of which spells k’utzi (figure 7.9c) and possibly is part of a nominal phrase referring to a woman. “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 171

A

B

C

F I G UR E 7.9  K’uhtzil, “tobacco”: (a) Codex Dresden: (left) page 15A2, tziK’UH~k’u, k’uhtzil, (right) page 15A3, K’UH~k’u-tzi-li, k’uhtzil; (b) Madrid Codex: (left) page 96B2, k’u, k’uhtzil, (right) page 96B3, k’u-tzi-li, k’uhtzil; (c) Uxmal Monument 4, Fragment B: k’u-tzi, k’uhtzil.

As the precise context cannot be discerned (the remainder of the hieroglyphic band is too eroded and fragments are missing), it is not certain if this spelling also refers to k’uhtz, “tobacco” (cf. Houston et al. 2006:114). I hope that additional examples of containers for tobacco will be identified in future research to extend the epigraphic and iconographic observations in this chapter.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank the editors of this volume, Jennifer Loughmiller-Cardinal and Keith Eppich, for their kind invitation to contribute. I thank them for allowing a short additional period for the editing of the manuscript due to health issues and a software problem.

REFERENCES CITED Aulie, H. Wilbur, and Evelyn W. Aulie 2009 Diccionario ch’ol de Tumbalá, Chiapas, con variaciones dialectales de Tila y Sabanilla. 3rd ed. Edited by Emily F. Scharfe Stairs. Mexico City: Instituto Lingüístico de Verano. Balick, Michael J., and Rosita Arvigo 2015 Messages from the Gods: A Guide to the Useful Plants of Belize. New York: Oxford University Press. Barrera Vásquez, Alfredo, ed. 1980 Diccionario maya cordemex: Maya-español, español-maya. Merida, Mexico: Ediciones Cordemex. Bautista de Pomar, Juan 1984 Relación de Tezcoco. In Relaciones geográficas del siglo XVI: México. 3rd 17 2

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ed., ed. René Acuña, 45–113. Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Antropológicas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Berjonneau, Gérald, and Jean-Louis Sonnery 1985 Rediscovered Masterpieces of Mesoamerica: Mexico-Guatemala-Honduras. Boulogne, France: Editions Arts. Berlin, Brent, Dennis E. Breedlove, and Peter H. Raven 1974 Principles of Tzeltal Plant Identification: An Introduction to the Botanical Ethnography of a Mayan-Speaking People of Highland Chiapas. New York: Academic. Binoche, Jean-Claude, and Alexandre Giquello 2016 Importante vente d’art precolombien de l’ancienne collection Vanden Avenne, mercredi 23 mars 2016. Paris: Binoche et Giquello. Boot, Erik 2003 The Human Hand in Classic Maya Hieroglyphic Writing. Mesoweb. http:// www.mesoweb.com/features/boot/Human_Hand.pdf. 2004 Vocabulary in the Ch’oltí’ Language: A Transcription of the “Bocabulario Grande” by Fray Francisco Morán (1695). FAMSI. http://www.famsi.org /mayawriting/dictionary/boot/cholti_moran1695_revised.pdf. 2005 Continuity and Change in Text and Image at Chichén Itzá, Yucatán, Mexico: A Study of the Inscriptions, Iconography, and Architecture at a Late Classic to Early Postclassic Maya Site. Leiden, Netherlands: CNWS Publications, Leiden University. 2009a The Updated Preliminary Classic Maya–English, English–Classic Maya Vocabulary of Hieroglyphic Readings. Mesoweb Resources. http://www .mesoweb.com/resources/vocabulary/Vocabulary-2009.01.pdf. 2009b Otot as a Vessel Classification for a Footed Bowl: Short Epigraphic Note on a Bowl in the Collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. http://www .mayavase.com/otot.pdf. 2010 An Oxkintok Region Vessel: An Analysis of the Hieroglyphic Texts. Mesoweb. www.mesoweb.com/articles/Boot/Oxkintok.pdf. Bricker, Victoria R., Eleuterio Po’ot Yah, and Ofelia Dzul de Po’ot 1998 A Dictionary of the Maya Language as Spoken in Hocabá, Yucatán. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Canger, Una 1969 Diccionario maya lacandon—español. Lacandon de San Quentin, Chiapas. Electronic copy in possession of author. Carlson, John B. 2007 Four Medallion Canteen Miniature Flasks. In The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress, ed. Arthur Dunkelman, 11. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. http://www.kislakfoundation.org/publications_loc.html. “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 17 3

Chase, Arlen F., and Diane Z. Chase 2014 Ancient Social Integration in a Maya Neighborhood: Investigations of Adjacent Residential Complexes near Caracol’s Epicenter. In Caracol Archaeological Project Investigations for 2014: A Continuation of the 2012 and 2013 Research Focus. Report prepared for the Belize Institute of Archaeology. Codex Dresdensis N.d. Manuscript, Mscr.Dresd.R.310. SLUB. http://digital.slub-dresden.de/werk ansicht/dlf/2967/1. Coe, Michael D. 1978 The Lords of the Underworld. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Deal, Michael 1998 Pottery Ethnoarchaeology in the Central Maya Highlands. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Delgaty, Alfa, and Agustín Ruíz Sánchez 1978 Diccionario tzotzil de San Andrés con variaciones dialectales: Tzotzilespañol, español-tzotzil. Mexico City: Instituto Lingüístico de Verano. Dibble, Charles E., and Arthur J. O. Anderson, trans. and eds. 1963 General History of the Things of New Spain by Fray Bernardino de Sahagún, vol. 11: Earthly Things. Santa Fe, NM: SAR Press and University of Utah. Gordon, G. B. 1913 The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel. Philadelphia: University Museum, University of Pennsylvania. Gossen, Gary H. 1999 Telling Maya Tales: Tzotzil Identities in Modern Mexico. London: Routledge. Grube, Nikolai 1998 Speaking through Stones: A Quotative Particle in Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions. In 50 Years of Americanist Studies at the University of Bonn: New Contributions to the Archaeology, Ethnohistory, Ethnolinguistics and Ethnography of the Americas, ed. Sabine Dedenbach-Salazar Sáenz et al., 543–58. Markt Schwaben, Germany: Anton Saurwein. 2002 Fantastic Creatures: Death Gods, Spirit Companions and Infernal Monsters. Paper presented at the Seventh European Maya Conference, “Jaws of the Underworld: Life, Death and Rebirth among the Ancient Maya,” November 2–10, London. 2012 A Logogram for Sip. Mexicon 34:138–41. Grube, Nikolai, and Maria Gaida 2006 Die Maya: Schrift und Kunst. Berlin: Ethnologisches Museum/Staatliche Museen zu Berlin and Dumont. Guiteras-Holmes, Calixta 1961 Perils of the Soul: The World View of a Tzotzil Indian. New York: Free Press. 174

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Hofling, Charles Andrew, and Félix Fernando Tesucún 1997 Itzaj Maya–Spanish–English Dictionary. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Hopkins, Nicholas A. 2012 A Dictionary of the Chuj (Mayan) Language as Spoken in San Mateo Ixtatán, Huehuetenango, Guatemala, ca. 1964–1965. Tallahassee, FL: Jaguar Tours. Houston, Stephen D. 1998 Classic Maya Depictions of the Built Environment. In Function and Meaning of Classic Maya Architecture, ed. Stephen D. Houston, 333–72. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Houston, Stephen D., David Stuart, and Karl Taube 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Kaufman, Terrence, with John Justeson 2003 A Preliminary Mayan Etymological Dictionary. FAMSI. www.famsi.org/ reports/01051/pmed.pdf. Killebrew, J. B., and Herbert Myrick 1897 Tobacco Leaf: Its Culture and Cure, Marketing and Manufacture. New York: Orange Judd Company. Landa, Diego de 1566 Relación de las cosas de Yucatán. Manuscript, B-68/9-27-2/5153, Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid, Spain. Laughlin, Robert M. 1975 The Great Tzotzil Dictionary of San Lorenzo Zinacantán. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. 1988 The Great Tzotzil Dictionary of Santo Domingo Zinacantán, with Grammatical Analysis and Historical Commentary. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Lenkersdorf, Carlos 2008 Diccionario tojolabal-español, idioma mayense de Chiapas. 2 vols., 3rd ed. Mexico City: Plaza y Valdés. Linnaeus, Carolus 1753 Species plantarum, exhibentes plantas rite cognitas, ad genera relatas, &c. 2 vols. Lopes, Luís, and Albert Davletshin 2004 The Glyph for Antler in the Mayan Script. Wayeb Notes 11:1–18. http://www .wayeb.org/notes/wayeb_notes0011.pdf. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer, and Dmitri Zagorevski 2016 Maya Flasks: The “Home” of Tobacco and Godly Substances. Ancient Mesoamerica 27(1):1–11. “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 17 5

Martin, Simon 2012 Hieroglyphs from the Painted Pyramid: The Epigraphy of Chiik Nahb Structure Sub 1-4, Calakmul, Mexico. In Maya Archaeology, vol. 2, ed. Charles Golden, Stephen Houston, and Joel Skidmore, 60–81. San Francisco, CA: Precolumbia Mesoweb Press. Mendoza, Ruben G. 2001 Mesoamerican Chronology: Periodization. In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures: The Civilizations of Mexico and Central America, ed. Davíd Carrasco, 222–26. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Molina, Alonso de 1571 Vocabulario en lengua castellana y mexicana. Mexico City: Casa de Antonio de Spinosa. Molina Solis, Juan Francisco 1896 Historia del descubrimiento y conquista de Yucatán con una reseña de la historia antigua de esta peninsula. Merida, Mexico: Imprenta y Lithografía R. Caballero. Moran, Francisco 1695 Arte y vocabulario de la lengua cholti que quiere decir lengua de milperos. Manuscript 497.4/M79, Ms. Collection, American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, PA. Proskouriakoff, Tatiana 1963 Historical Data in the Inscriptions of Yaxchilan, Part I. Estudios de Cultura Maya 3:149–67. Redfield, Robert, and Alfonso Villa Rojas 1934 Chan Kom: A Maya Village. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Reents-Budet, Dorie 1994 Painting the Maya Universe: Royal Ceramics of the Classic Period. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Robicsek, Francis 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Robicsek, Francis, and Donald M. Hales 1981 The Maya Book of the Dead: The Ceramic Codex. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Roys, Ralph Loveland, ed. 1965 Ritual of the Bacabs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Schele, Linda 1982 Notebook for the Maya Hieroglyphic Writing Workshop at Texas, February 27–28. Austin: Institute of Latin American Studies, University of Texas. 176

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Seler, Eduard 1908 Ein Hieroglyphengefass von Nebaj in Guatemala. In Gesammelte Abhandelungen zur Altamerikanischen Sprach- und Alterthumskunde, vol. 3, ed. Eduard Seler, 718–29. Berlin: Behrend. Starr, Frederick 1900–1902. Notes upon the Ethnography of Southern Mexico. 2 vols. Davenport, IA: Putnam Memorial Publication Fund. 1908 In Indian Mexico: A Narrative of Travel and Labor. Chicago: Forbes. Stuart, David 1988 “The Fire Enters His House”: Architecture and Ritual in Classic Maya Texts. In Function and Meaning in Classic Maya Architecture, ed. Stephen D. Houston, 373–425. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. 2005a Glyphs on Pots: Decoding Classic Maya Ceramics. In Sourcebook for the 29th Maya Hieroglyph Forum, March 11–16, 108–65. Austin: Department of Art and Art History, University of Texas. 2005b The Inscriptions from Temple XIX at Palenque: A Commentary. San Francisco, CA: Precolumbian Art Research Institute. 2016 Chili Vessels. Maya Decipherment, March 24. https://decipherment .wordpress.com/2016/03/24/chili-vessels. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1962 A Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Ulrich, E. Matthew, and Rosemary Ulrich 1976 Diccionario maya mopan—español / maya mopan—español. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Instituto Lingüístico de Verano. Vico, Domingo de ca. 1555 Vocabulario de la lengua cakchiquel, con advertencia de los vocablos de las lenguas quiché y tzutohil. Manuscript R7507, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. Villacorta, J. Antonio, and Carlos A. Villacorta 1930 Códices mayas. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Tipografía Nacional. Villa Rojas, Alfonso 1982 Breves consideraciones sobre la creencia del “mal de ojo.” Anales de Antropología 19:147–61. Zagorevski, Dmitri V., and Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Newman 2012 The Detection of Nicotine in a Late Mayan Period Flask by Gas Chromatography and Liquid Chromatography Mass Spectrometry Methods. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry 26:403–11. Zender, Marc 2000 A Study of Two Uaxactún-Style Tamale Serving Vessels. In The Maya Vase “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 177

Book, vol. 6, ed. Barbara Kerr and Justin Kerr, 1038–55. New York: Kerr Associates.

NOTES 1. These flasks are commonly referred to as “poison bottles” (e.g., Carlson 2007:11; Reents-Budet 1994:214–15) or, in Spanish, veneneros. An image web search with “Classic Maya poison bottle” as the search term will deliver dozens of examples. (Unfortunately, most of them are offered for sale at various galleries and auction houses.) Also use “bottle” and “flask” as search options at Justin Kerr’s Precolumbian Portfolio at http://research.mayavase.com/kerrportfolio.html. 2. Michael D. Coe (1978:16) first dubbed this particular painting style “Codex style,” but the style was first described by Lin V. Crocker in a letter to Coe (Coe 1978:16; Robicsek and Hales 1981:xix). 3. In this chapter, the following periodization for the Maya is used: Early Classic (ca. AD 250–600), Late Classic (ca. AD 600–900), Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900– 1250), Late Postclassic (ca. AD 1250–1550). The time limits of these periods are not fixed, but somewhat fluid, depending on where in the Maya area is being discussed. The end of the Postclassic period may be set at 1519–1521, the Spanish conquest of central Mexico; 1526–1546 for Yucatán; 1524–1530 for the Guatemalan highlands; and perhaps even 1697 for the central Petén (final conquest of the last independent kingdom, that of the Itza). Cf. Mendoza 2001. 4. The images (by an unknown photographer) of this particular flask were provided to me by Linda Schele during the Texas Maya meetings during the period 1992–1994. 5. Starting in 2016 the Mesoamerican collection will move to the new Humboldt Forum, Schlossplatz, Berlin. 6. I transcribe the collocation as SAK-[‘u]NAL for Sakunal and thus identify the infixed sign as ‘u. Grube and Gaida (2006:191) prefer Sakte’nal, thus identifying a TE’ sign instead of ‘u. I note that one particular example of Sakunal employs a monkey head, and I know of no example in which a monkey head functions as TE’. A monkey head, through its onomatopoetic quality (a monkey howls), is employed as ‘u. Note, for instance, ‘i’-u-ti > i-uht-I (thus happens), on Palenque, Tablet of the 96 Glyphs, M7: ‘u-ti-ya (full zoosomatomorphic variants for ‘u, “monkey,” and ti, “vulture”) > uhtiiy (happened), and on Yaxchilan, Altar 22, circumference, pM. 7. Potentially there is yet another spelling for “tobacco.” The back of Piedras Negras, Throne 1, contains a nominal phrase covering three collocations that spell ‘IXIK-ma-ya MO’-’o ‘AK for perhaps ’ixik mahy(?) mo’ ahk. In this phrase the ma-ya spelling may possibly lead to mahy (tobacco); if so, this nominal means “Lady Tobacco Macaw Turtle.” 17 8

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8. David Stuart (2016:fig. 3) identifies the Classic Maya word ich, “chili [powder or sauce],” in two Late Classic hieroglyphic texts. One text from Calakmul reads (as I prefer) yotoot yich yukno’m ch’e’n, “[it is] the house [in the sense of home] of the chili [y-ich] of Yukno’m Ch’e’n.” 9. In Tzeltal may means “tobacco,” but the compound noun may te’ (lit. “tobacco tree”) identifies the mullein nightshade (Berlin et al. 1974:287). 10. The term peligo is a Tzeltal variant of pelico and pílico (Starr 1900–1902). All three are loanwords derived from the original Nahuatl term for tobacco, picietl. 11. For the possibly related term ma-ya > may (offering, gift) in the expressions ‘u-ka-na-na ‘u-ma-ya > ukanan u may (the guardian [kanan] of the may) and ‘u-maya-na > umayan (he offers it) at Chichen Itza, see Boot 2005:340. 12. Note the spelling of the phrase ‘u-BAH-ji ti-MAY-yi-hi > ubaah ti mayih on the Yaxchilan Stela 35 (back, E1–F1). There the spelling uses -ji where -hi is expected and -hi where -ji is expected. However, in the Late Classic period the phonemes /h/ and /j/ merged, and these Yaxchilan spellings may hint at this fact as the scribe (apparently) used the signs for hi and ji interchangeably. 13. The numbers that start with K refer to the vessels cataloged and numbered in the archive of rollout photographs maintained by Justin Kerr and made available at his website, http://www.mayavase.com. The vessels here mentioned, K0558 and K2352, are painted in the style of the well-known Fenton Vase (British Museum, no. 1930.F1; Seler 1908:718) and present the same subjects in text and image. To this series of vessels also belong a vessel in the Theler Collection in Guatemala, K2206 (Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, no. Ca 50112), and a sherd in the Dütting Collection. The sherd is similar in subject matter to the Fenton Vase and K0558, which show courtly presentation scenes; K2206, K2352, and the Theler Vase provide elaborate capture scenes, the most prominent captive being Aj Yamay O’. 14. The standard formula of uway identifications on Classic Maya vessels (in which this [y]ohl may can be found) provides most commonly a paramount title in which a toponym is used. Here the titular part seems to be fully abbreviated or underspelled, just leaving the toponym. After the ‘OL-MAY collocation is the last collocation, which may be the title, the transcription of which, BAK?~ba?-TUN?-ni, I suggest with some hesitation. Perhaps this is an alternative spelling for the title baah tuun, in which the BAK (bone) sign is acrophonically reduced to ba (see Robicsek 1978:plate 110 for photograph). Also note the dedicatory text on K0731; its vessel type, yuk’ib, seems to be spelled yu-k’i-ba, with the final sign a skeletal head (prominent exposed teeth are a distinguishing characteristic), thus BAK (skeletal head) > ba (syllabic sign). The spelling yu-k’i-ba is rare, but see K5514 (Brooklyn Museum of Art, no. 65.155) for two Early Classic yuk’ib spellings: yu-k’i-bi and yu-k’i-ba. 15. The human extremities (arm, hand, leg, foot) in Maya writing are excluded from this discussion. For the human hand, see Boot 2003. “Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 17 9

16. The T77 sign and variants here illustrated are part of yu-k’i-bi spellings in dedicatory texts on ceramics, which provide the vessel type, y-uk’-ib (the drink instrument . . .): y- (prevocalic third-person pronoun), uk’- (drink), -ib (instrumental suffix). T77 and variant signs also occur in the so-called wing-shell death expression (first identified as such by Proskouriakoff 1963:162–63) in which T77 is substituted by a jaguar’s claw as well as a syllabic sign for k’a. (Are the wing and jaguar claw signs perhaps logographic K’A’? See Boot 2009a:99–100.) In this expression the verb root thus may be k’a’- (remember, commemorate). The full metaphorical death expression includes the phrase sak ik’il (white wind, breath) (k’a’- u- . . . sak ik’il), and it may be the Classic Maya precursor of an expression that survived in colonial Yucatec Maya as k’a[a]hal ik’ (“volver en sí el que se había turbado o desmayado y caer en la cuenta; recordarse; acordarse” and “acordarse, hacer memoria, recapicitar”) (Barrera Vásquez 1980:362). 17. On K5460 in the phrase ta sak chijil waaj, the scribe actually employed the wrong sign for WAJ. He used the sign WE’ (eat), a TI’ (mouth) sign in which the mouth contains a WAJ sign. 18. This is also the same decipherment for the god head at Dos Pilas for which, in the text, I suggest Ik’ Si’p. This is problematic and warrants more research. Perhaps two different (but in detail very similar) god heads with deer antlers are involved. 19. The main element of the Palenque emblem glyph is either read bakal or bake’l, based on common BAK-la spellings and a unique BAK-le spelling (K1256); the probable transliteration bakal would be a phonological variant of bake’l, derived from progressive vowel assimilation. I note here the use of the deer head for chi on K8252 (figure 7.5e, left). This is actually a skeletal deer head (compare to other deer heads in figure 7.5e, middle and right, which are regular deer heads), which in the examples in figures 7.6e–h clearly is employed as BAK. Either the use of the skeletal deer head sign thus directs at multiple values for the sign as chi and BAK, or its employment on K8252 constitutes a mistake by the scribe, who used the wrong deer head sign (which I consider more likely). 20. Is it a personal name (Boot 2005:300–301, 313–17, 361, 440, as Kalkehtok’) or a title that integrates a place name (in full, the phrase reads Kalkeejto’k’ Koj Ajaw)? If it is a toponym, which place named Kalkeejto’k’ was meant in the Late Classic texts at Chichen Itza: a place named Kalkeejto’k’ located close to Chichen Itza (yet to be identified) or the place (known for its large dry-cave system) Calcehtok in western Yucatán, which is located close to the important archaeological site of Oxkintok? 21. As the scribe employed the spelling chi-hi for chih, albeit tentative, I prefer to transcribe the sign for ‘AJ as ‘AH (to indicate the Late Classic merger of /j/ and /h/). The variant sign used for ‘AH (< ‘AJ) is the same as in the ‘AJ ma-yi spelling at Calakmul (figure 7.1e).

18 0

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22. With K’UH~k’u I mean to indicate that the sign is either K’UH (which T1016 is) or that it could have been acrophonically reduced to k’u in the Late Postclassic period. Some signs seem to operate as both a CVC logograph and an acrophonically reduced CV sign, depending on the context (e.g., YOP [leaf]~yo, as in YOP~yo-’AT > yopaat, but yo-to-ti, [yo]’OTOT, etc. > yotoot). 23. Compare this image to the leaves of the tobacco plant as illustrated in drawing 512 in Sahagún’s Florentine Codex, book 11 (Dibble and Anderson 1963). Additionally note the tobacco leaf shown on K6279c (a rectangular flask in the Kislak Collection, F1434.64 0273). Also see the photograph of Nicotiana tabacum L. in figure 4.1 in this volume; and Balick and Arvigo 2015:489.

“Tobacco” in Hieroglyphic Texts 181

CHAPTER EIGHT

Archaeology and Tobacco Recognizing a Common Staple in Uncommon Ways JENNIFER A. LOUGHMILLER-CARDINAL

There are few substances that are as widely employed in as varied ways as tobacco, and it appears that this has been true since its early adoption for human applications. The ancient Maya used tobacco both as a daily, domestic consumable and as a divine and ritually important substance. Archaeologically, this translates to a very large number of potential contexts that remain mostly unexamined. This chapter is dedicated to the pursuit of the more likely and productive archaeological contexts for the identification of tobacco residues by considering its portrayal in images, texts, and social contexts. Tobacco during the Classic period was both common and highly useful, and so the archaeological record should reflect widespread tobacco use in numerous contexts. As is well appreciated by researchers, however, the tropical conditions of most of the Classic Maya area do not allow for the preservation of much in the way of organic materials. In this chapter I address the varied contexts in which tobacco may have been present, or at least where technology that is more sensitive for residue studies may yet find it. To examine this topic I consider iconography, ethnography, and a range of archaeological contexts. One of our greatest hurdles in the evaluation of appropriate archaeological contexts is the need to consider all the potential sources of samples and establishing measures to detect anticipated materials even when they are invisible to the eye. Residue analysis has become more widely applied for just those situations where visual assessment may fail us. Although such analyses offer the potential to detect evidence for unanticipated foodstuffs and contents, not enough has been done to establish appropriate and reliable sources for such data. In other words, we cannot yet say with authority where we will find traces of various substances and when or how to look for them. Preservation is our biggest

hurdle, of course, but more important is to determine what we should be looking for and what we should not. Although we do have texts and images to guide us, relying exclusively on those sources has the potential to obscure actual uses and likely contexts. In the case of the highly ornate cylinders bearing text indicating chocolate, it now appears that they were not used as cups for the consumption of liquid cacao/chocolate (Loughmiller-Newman 2012; Loughmiller-Cardinal 2018) despite the seemingly reasonable conclusion that the text indicates their content. In a publication by Powis and colleagues (2013), chili pepper (Capsicum) residue was identified in a number of vessel forms, including a spouted jar. Spouted vessel forms traditionally were thought to have been used for liquids or as Preclassic “tea pots” where cacao residues (theobromine) were identified (Hurst et al. 2002). We need to widen our net to look for more than just a specific substance that we expect to find, and we need to not take images and texts at face value or expect some successful analyses to provide all the answers. We should consider instead that the images and texts are evidence for only some of the substances that were known and consumed. As other chapters in this volume note (see specifically Hull), substitutes may stand in where other substances are expected. This further complicates the hunt for residues, unfortunately, but we should remain cognizant of the possibility. Maya iconography is rarely a simple or literal illustration, but rather is a collection of references akin to a mnemonic, which would have been meaningful for its intended audience. When such symbolic representations of tobacco are used as a guide, the issue becomes situational, contextual, and much more complex. For instance, if someone today were to ask you to describe a holiday, a modern American New Year’s Eve for example, you would likely enumerate certain general characteristics. You might list things such as a gathering of friends or family, a countdown to midnight, champagne, noisemakers, perhaps New York’s Times Square, and a (usually painful) mass performance of “Auld Lang Syne” with few of the correct lyrics. Suppose instead that someone asked you to describe your own New Year’s Eve holiday from last year. The answer, of course, would focus on details of events, people, and activities of your own particular experience, whereas the more general aspects indicative of a New Year’s Eve holiday, as an abstract, would fall to the background or be omitted as implicit. Something similar would happen if you were asked to describe “a city” in general (e.g., large and tall buildings, densely gridded streets, crowds of people) versus a particular place, such as New York (e.g., Statue of Archaeology and Tobacco 18 3

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Liberty and Empire State Building) or Paris (e.g., Louvre and Eiffel Tower). If both people were familiar with the city in question, the answer would likely focus on the details of a district or neighborhood of interest. For each example, the general inquiry draws out a broad set of characteristics that define the abstract, normative concept. On the other hand, the specific and personal inquiry elicits distinguishing particulars and either implies or proportionally neglects information that is more general and familiar concerning the abstract and communal knowledge or context. The greater the shared communal context, the more can be omitted while still adequately and efficiently communicating the pertinent information. Shared symbols or icons distill this efficiency even further, condensing a great deal of detailed and particular information into a single node and omitting all other redundant information (e.g., the Eiffel Tower symbolically identifying Paris and evoking by implication all things Parisian) while requiring and presuming a highly integrated set of shared communal background referents. In such a strongly integrated communicative system, the only necessary additional information is that which uniquely differentiates and identifies the specific pertinent details of a particular instance. Within any given societal framework, such elided implications of shared normative context typically go unnoticed, since subject and referent are assumed to be known to all parties. Only when there is a miscalculation in the degree of commonality of information or referents do such omissions become apparent. This is precisely the issue scholars are facing. We are not within the community and do not share the information or referents, and to us the omissions are both staggering and not fully realized. In highly regulated societal contexts in which access to and participation in communication are predicated on the commonality of such norms, those efficiencies can distill a very large amount of highly detailed information into a minimal set of referents. Maya iconography and text are demonstrably just such a regulated context, communicating highly particular and detailed information by minimally depicting and specifying the pertinent distinguishing referents while providing little explanatory context, which would presumably have been automatically understood by those for whom the communication was intended. For scholars who are not members of the Classic Maya elite or ritual specialist classes fully versed in the contexts of the ancient past, the meaning of those referents can be frustratingly opaque, and therefore the Maya “shorthand” can at times seem impenetrable. 18 4

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Like the technical jargon of any highly specialized field, a seemingly small referent can contain a large amount of pertinent detail to the initiate and yet be completely incomprehensible to the layperson. As rich and complex as Mayan writing and imagery are, they routinely tend to exclude any mundane or commonly understood contextual background. What is in an image or text is exclusively, likely by canon, distinguishing information to identify the specific scene and to be placed into the appropriate meaningful context by a viewer fully initiated in the required contextual social knowledge. Each element of a scene or text provides a succinct encoding of the detail pertinent to the initiated, while obscuring the specialized knowledge that would inform the uninitiated (e.g., the scholar several centuries later). To Maya elite of the Classic period, that same sparse encoding would be rich in information and the references obvious. The project for scholars is to navigate the patterns of both encodings and omissions in order to relate the implied symbolic references to recognizable behaviors, artifacts, and locations identified by ethnographic or archaeological records. Ultimately, the evaluation of image, text, and context will provide the necessary boundaries to scale the scope of analyses and to target the most probable contexts and samples that can supply those relational links. I D E N T I F I C AT I O N O F T O B A C C O B Y R E S I D U E S

Nicotine is the most likely residual evidence of tobacco (Eerkens et al. 2012; Rafferty 2002, 2006; Rafferty et al. 2012; Torres 2016; Tushingham et al. 2013; see also Planella et al. 2018). The nitrogen-bearing alkaloid has been shown to remain viable and identifiable for more than a thousand years (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012). The most commonly applied method of analysis is gas chromatography or liquid phase chromatographic separation followed by mass spectrometry for identification. Other methods of separation analysis used in the identification of tobacco, such as Raman microscopy (Rafferty et al. 2012; McCreery 2000) and direct analysis in real time (DART; Torres 2016), so far have been unsuccessful with ancient nicotine. Even so, the new analytical tools are promising although archaeological application of the separation methods developed in the chemical sciences cannot yet perform at the same level of confidence in the detection of ancient foodstuffs and residues. There are far too many degradation factors at play, and we simply cannot be aware of all of them—yet. What is more, rarely do we know what may be present in or on the artifact under analysis. The collaboration Archaeology and Tobacco 18 5

of archaeologists, chemists, and the hybrid scholars in the growing field of archaeometry may yet provide us the tools. Soil analysis has been a primary means of collecting inorganic microfossils, such as phytoliths, starch, and carbon (Haslam 2004; Jones 1993; Kealhofer 1999; Loy et al. 1992, 1994; Pearsall 2000; Piperno 1988). To gather organic debris, flotation has been a mainstay in the collection and identification of botanical macrofossils in anthropogenic sediments and deposit matrices for North America. Unfortunately, tobacco seeds are generally so minuscule that they are often overlooked or do not make it through the flotation process at all. Dry samples, which can be parsed for macrofossil content, are a more likely means of maintaining the presence of the tiny seeds so that paleoethnobotanists can make identifications (Cagnato et al. 2015; Morell-Hart 2011; Dedrick 2014). Torres and colleagues (1995:291), dealing with a similar issue of finding the evidence of ritual substances in South America in the central Andean region, noted: “The first problem is to determine what constitutes clear archaeological evidence. The most direct form of evidence is the finding of plant remains in direct association with human activity. Another type of evidence is that provided by the implements used in the preparation and ingestion of psychoactive preparations. The most conclusive evidence of this type is that provided by the smoking pipes and by the snuffing paraphernalia. Psychoactive plant representations furnish a third type of evidence.” POTTERY/CERAMICS

The discussion I present here is far from exhaustive and is not intended to cover the extraordinary wealth of modern ethnographic examples or ethnohistorical descriptions that feature rites, rituals, and behaviors involving tobacco. Rather, my intent is to draw attention to areas of activity where we might pay more attention to the possible presence of tobacco. Clay vessels are typically the most likely artifacts to be selected for residue analysis. Not all vessel residues are equal and, counterintuitively, vessels with visible contents may not be the best choice. The ideal scenario for any archaeological deposit is one that is sealed and protected, and this remains true for pottery residues as well. Pottery that has a lid or a constricted neck has a much better chance of retaining a viable residue than does a plate or a bowl. Artifacts such as pipestems, spouted vessels, and constricted-top vessels are the most

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productive. The exposure of the residue to the natural elements, including the sun, and animals or bugs has a significant effect. Most of the ancient “ceramics” we find in the New World are not ceramic, but pottery. The difference is that pottery is not fired at a high enough temperature to achieve vitrification (typically accomplished by use of a kiln), where the silica in the clay melts to form an impervious surface (Rice 1987). Maya pottery is highly porous and is known to absorb a portion of liquid upon contact, although this is mitigated with surface treatments. Where possible, it would be better to take samples from the inner core of pottery, where portions of the residue may be trapped and protected in the ceramic fiber. According to Evershed (2008:29), renowned for his extensive work with organic residues, our greatest chance for successful analysis in pottery is the absorbed residues: “absorbed residues [are] preserved within the vessel wall, invisible to the naked eye. . . . Analyses performed to date suggest that absorbed organic residues survive in > 80% of domestic cooking pottery assemblages worldwide” (see also Charters et al. 1993; Stern et al. 2000). Although tobacco cannot be absorbed directly, tobacco juice or powdered tobacco suspended in a liquid could very well have been absorbed into the ceramic fiber. There are a number of contact period observations indicating that tobacco juice was regularly consumed (Robicsek 1978). Naturally, the process of archaeological evaluation begins with gross generalizations formed from experience, observation, or comparison. We have yet to explore fully, however, the range of contents contained by vessels by form, location, time, or otherwise. We should be looking to target the widest reasonable range of residues manageable. Hieroglyphic text is proving to be less of a direct indicator of content than anticipated. Prior to 2012, only one study had identified a foodstuff, cacao, matching the hieroglyphic text on the vessel in which it was found (Hurst et al. 1989). In 2012, a second substance was added to the list, tobacco (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012). Many foodstuffs have been identified by residues, and tobacco and cacao have been identified on or in other artifacts (see, for example, Hurst 2006; Hurst et al. 1989; Hurst et al. 2002; McNeil 2006; Powis et al. 2007; Prufer and Hurst 2007). The hieroglyphics and images do correspond, however, to known substances or foodstuffs utilized by the Maya. At this point, we cannot claim with any level of certainty an exclusive use of tobacco for the flask vessel form. Although the small portable flasks are

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commonly decorated with images suggestive of tobacco content, the majority are found filled with red pigment. Whether or not the red pigment is a termination ritual instead of evidence of their function during use life is dependent on further analyses. In previous analyses, I have detected both vessel discoloration and visible unidentified substances at the base of several flasks below the red pigment. While form may not necessarily limit use, it can suggest potential function (Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016). Studies, such as those by Schiffer (1988) and Young and Stone (1990), suggest what reasonable uses vessel forms may have served. We also must consider the possible range of vessels used for production, presentation, and consumption (see LoughmillerCardinal and Zagorevski 2016). Beverage production requires many steps and materials; the range of artifacts used in production does not begin and end with only a cup. Furthermore, tobacco products are not limited to a single means of consumption, suggesting that we should look for other artifacts in addition to the flasks, including assemblages of related artifacts that may have been part of tobacco preparation, presentation, storage, and consumption, as well as potential waste. The Maya city of Copan, Honduras, appears to have had, by contrast, a more identifiable culture both of tobacco consumption and of enema use. A large number of stamped flasks recovered and identified skew strongly toward the Copan area as a source (see also Eppich and Navarro-Farr, this volume). The depiction of the Classic Maya practice of intoxicating enemas has been well established (de Smet 1985; Furst and Coe 1977; Hellmuth 1978; Robicsek 1978; Nicholson and Chordy-Collins 1979). Whether or not tobacco was included in enemas aside from medical treatments (Roys 1976; Steggerda and Korsch 1943) remains less well-established (de Smet 1985). In the Kerr database (http://www .mayavase.com), there are a number of images clearly showing figures either receiving or self-administering an enema. The presence of alcohol in the enema is suggested by the depiction of ollas nearby, which are often labeled as maize beer, mead, or pulque. As discussed above, objects shown in frequent relationship are very likely evidence of a real and common occurrence, a known, and they were simply understood to be present at that envisioned event without a need to focus or identify them specifically. These occurrences provide us with unspoken but important relationships as part of the patterns of specification and omission, which can help identify what was considered a Maya norm. In the Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress, there are approxi18 8

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mately 150 Maya flasks. Among the numerous stamped panel flasks, including round/oval and square/ rectangular examples, and the effigy flasks sculpted into animals, gods, and men, a good proportion suggest potential tobacco contents, and others suggest that the contents were for use in enemas. At least 20 panel flasks are stamped with images of God L and God K. God L is generally regarded as a patron god of tobacco and typically is depicted smoking a cigar. There are several more flasks showing figures holding a leaf that is roughly in the form of a leaf of N. tabacum: thick veined, large in size, and elongated oval. The Kislak display in the Ancient America’s Hall also holds a small tobacco flask that bears the phrase y-otoot ’u-mahy (the home of his/ her tobacco), which tested positive for nicotine (Zagorevski and LoughmillerNewman 2012). In this collection, three sculpted flasks together suggest an assemblage of paraphernalia meant for a high enema ritual: one flask is decorated with an applied male figure self-administering an enema; another flask has a male figure in the same pose over a flat dish with a spout; and the third is a bat effigy flask (figure 8.1, top to bottom). The depiction of an individual self-administering an enema is also known from other Classic artwork, mainly from several polychrome vessels (e.g., K1890). Along with the speculation that these flasks held tobacco, there are also a number of other suggested contents, including chili peppers, drugs, medicine, spices, venom, perfume, and incense (de Borhegyi 2012; Houston et al. 2006; Carlson 2007a, b; Smith 1955). Most of these substances are also considered to have been possible additives for enemas (de Smet 1985). The second flask is gourd-shaped (figure 8.1, middle). Gourds preceded clay vessels and were likely the template for most of the forms the vessels took. As Groark (this volume and 2010) indicates, modern Maya store ground tobacco in small gourds. This was likely the case for the ancient Maya as well, and gourd-like objects can be seen in images from the Classic period (LoughmillerCardinal 2016). The flat-spouted plate under the crouched figure on the second flask is a known vessel form, although the function has never been identified. In 2011, Matheson and colleagues examined four such vessels of the Ventaron type. “These vessels, produced during the Acbi period (AD 400–600) at Copan, are essentially decorated with animal effigies (Viel 1993; figs. 47 & 48; Viel and Cheek 1983:573, 580). All exhibit a large pouring spout that is level with the bottom of the vessel on one side” (Matheson et al. 2011:191; see figure 8.2). All of the spouted flat vessels tested at Copan were in the shape of bats, the animal insignia of Copan. Archaeology and Tobacco 18 9

F I G U R E 8.1  Top: figure self-administering an enema; middle: figure on an enema pan; bottom: bat figure on flask. Photographs by Jennifer Loughmiller-Cardinal, courtesy of the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

F IGURE 8 .2  Enema pan. Private collection. On loan to the Yale University Art Gallery. Photo by Andrew Turner.

The third Kislak flask (figure 8.1, bottom) has an applied bat on the surface, reminiscent of those known from Copan imagery and similar in style to the pan vessels just mentioned. Matheson and colleagues (2011) identify the presence of raw blood in all four of the spouted bat effigy pans. They suggest that the spouted pans were potentially used for a ritual. The nonhuman blood was not identified as to which creature it came from, and other residues were not sought or at least they were not specified. The form of this flat spouted pan vessel is not overly common and is even less commonly described or discussed because of its unknown function. Likewise, clay flasks were rare until the Late Classic period and were based on earlier gourd vessels. The spouted pans date to approximately the same period and are most numerously associated with the same general region producing the flasks, Copan. Perhaps like the flasks, the spouted pans were fashioned in clay after a vessel form previously made out of organic materials. I suggest that this spouted pan vessel and the clay flasks were associated and used in enema rituals. This is not to exclude the flasks from having separate uses. The pans were perhaps the containers used in the mixing of substances, for filling the enema, or perhaps even for catching the waste. For at least one flask in the Kislak Collection, we have the vessel associated with a flask, a person, and potentially a behavior. Perhaps with more attention to possible function via residues we may yet find images, materials, or other evidence supporting this suggestion. Animals, especially deer, are often shown in enema scenes where both a clyster and animals appear to be associated with the event (see, for instance, K0196 and K1382). Nicholas Hellmuth (cited in de Smet 1985:140) states, “I Archaeology and Tobacco 191

suspect that many of the deer bone tubes found in excavations of Maya temples, palaces, middens, and burials are actually the tubes of enema clysters.” Hollowed-out bones, whether used for clysters, for inhaling powdered substances, as straws, or for any other use have the potential to yield viable residues. To date, little attention has been paid to these potential residues. Enemas, blood, and animal or human sacrifice are all nearly taboo in our contemporary cultural norms, but they frequently co-occur in Classic Maya art. To understand the use of these potential enema pans more thoroughly, samples should be taken from the ceramic fabric in addition to visible residue on the surface. Additionally, we may want to reconsider the red pigment found in the flasks upon termination. There may be a link between blood, enemas, and tobacco being expressed. C AV E S , B U R I A L S , A N D AC T I V I T Y A R E A S

There are few landforms that were as sacred for the Maya as a cave (Stone 1995; Brady et al. 1997). The entrance into the watery underworld was tremendously important, so much so that it factored into creation myths and the general makeup of the order of Maya cosmology (Tedlock 1996). Caves were believed to be the origin of water, which forms in the interior of the cave and is then released to the sky (Vogt 1969). Undoubtedly, the naturally damp interior and frequency of underground pools assisted in this interpretation. The cavepyramid association is well demonstrated throughout Mesoamerica, for example at sites such as Xochicalco, Chichen Itza, and Teotihuacan. The Pyramid of the Sun is where it is because the cave below is of extreme ritual significance, a most sacred location. Rituals performed in this space, either on the pyramid or below it, would have had enormous cosmological importance (Millon 1988). Rituals geared toward seasonal rains, agriculture, and fertility all were held at caves, which were also regarded as potential entrances into the underworld abyss of Xibalba—a realm of death gods and diseased creatures. The very origins of life and sustenance also emerge from caves (Martin 2006). The creation murals at San Bartolo, Guatemala, show the mythic emergence of the Maize God and the goods of sustenance and life. This corresponds with similar beliefs, which still have modern vestiges, that gods could emerge or be contacted through a cave (Vogt 1976) or that permission for favors or use of resources may be granted from the god of the Earth (Vogt 1976; Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934). The Earth Lord bears a strong resemblance to God L, 19 2

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the wizened god of decadent substances, daily goods, and trade (Taube 1992; see also Pickands, this volume). God L is recognizable by his large headdress, owl hat, and big cigar. Cave archaeology has revealed a surprisingly wide range of materials, burials, and remnants of ancient ritual practices in these spaces (Brady and Stone 1986; Spenard 2006). Food is among the most common of the modern ritual goods presented to the gods. The continuity of food and beverage presentation is confirmed by the deposits of ancient food and drink containers in caves (Spenard 2006). Residues should be targeted not only from the artifacts in this context, but also from the soil matrix of the deposit. The damp cave interiors, in addition to the pervasive calcium concretions and coatings, have significant impacts on preservation. Organic analyses should not, however, be ruled out. One of the best potential areas for organic materials that might have been protected from microbiological degradation is the encapsulation in the pores of the pottery under the calcification or accumulated sediments. As mentioned above, the core of the ceramic may also remain viable for analysis. As of now, there is scant information on the preservation of such residues. In the sixteenth century, Bishop de Landa (Tozzer 1941) was alarmed to find altars with sacrificed deer, pagan idols, and basins of incense surrounding the cave opening at Mani, Mexico (Tozzer 1941). Modern cave rituals are frequently conducted outside the cave for various reasons: ritual timing, fickle gods, perceived danger. Lit cigars are set in front of cave openings, where the gods “smoke” the cigar through the movement of air in and out of the cave. How and when the cigar extinguishes is read as a sign of the good or bad will of the gods and permission to continue with the ritual inside the cave (Mayan informant, pers. comm., 2007). Likely, the cigar smoke and nicotine chases away the serpents that frequent cave entrances, a practical aspect of the ritual. More important, tobacco is presented as an offering, and concentrations over time may have left identifiable traces. Residues of ritual activities should be sought both around the exterior and in the interior of the cave. Anthropogenic sediments have proven to be useful areas of investigation in other parts of the world. In one find, the burial matrix of a Bronze Age royal tomb in Qatna, Syria, produced the biomarkers indigoid and indirubinoid. Both of these components indicate that the long-deteriorated garments once worn by the corpse were colored with royal purple dye of significant note and prestige (James et al. 2009). “This was subsequently confirmed through Archaeology and Tobacco 19 3

microscopic examinations of the sediments from the tomb, which revealed millimetre-sized fragments of fossilized textile (gypsum replicas; confirmed by X-ray crystallography) displaying the purple dye. The morphologies of the textile fragments recorded the weave of the textile and pattern of the applied dye. The presence of the purple dye is indicative of wool being used to fabricate the textile” (Evershed 2008:29). It should be noted that the protein-based fabric had deteriorated, but the pigment biomarkers were still intact. Tombs are regarded as one of the best possible contexts of preservation, and cigars have been discovered in at least one instance in a burial at Tikal, Guatemala (Robicsek 1978:111). Flasks are encountered in Late Classic burials, which remains suggestive of the presence of tobacco (see Eppich and Navarro-Farr, this volume). Typically, these contexts are sealed away and protected from natural and manmade disturbances (Schiffer 1987). Therefore, when a tomb is discovered, pains are taken to record and describe every bit of information possible. Burials typically receive a special concentration of archaeological effort. As evidence of practices in reverence of the deceased, tombs are filled with goods and tribute to the person laid to rest. Classic Maya tombs generally contain elite people and a rich ceramic assemblage that includes plates, bowls, cups or cylinders, storage vessels, stamps, and figurines. Royal figures are also bedecked in jade and shells and, on occasion, burial masks and headdresses. What we are less certain about are the uncontained offerings of foods, flora, seeds, and pigments that may also be present. It is my belief that red pigment and maize (either kernels or pulverized maize) were cast over the deceased and all the interred offerings and gifts; this appears to be the case for the Classic period burials of Calakmul and related cities. I identified inorganic signatures of red pigments (cinnabar [HgS] or iron oxide/hematite [Fe2O3]) throughout the burial matrix at Calakmul (Burials 4 and 6) and Burial 61 at El Perú-Waka’. Additionally, maize phytoliths were identified throughout the same soils, although possibly as a matter of normal contamination. Tobacco was not sought during those organic analyses; it should be considered in future analyses. A growing trend in archaeometric studies is to include analyses of anthropogenically affected soils that can identify, with increasing resolution, areas of craft production, food preparation, and organic waste concentration (Parnell et al. 2002). Although this may not directly indicate the presence of tobacco use or preparation, these assessments may help to localize zones to target for more intense research. “Examples of elements associated with human activities include calcium and strontium with the preparation of corn, iron with areas 194

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used for processing agave leaves, mercury and lead with craft production, potassium, sodium, and magnesium with wood ash from fires, and phosphorus with food and beverage consumption and preparation (Holliday 2004:302–3; Wells 2004:71; Wells et al. 2007:213–14, 217; Wells and Terry 2007:385)” (Rothenberg 2010:2). Refuse deposits and middens are less well-protected and -sealed. These debris piles are commonly associated with residence groups and spaces for social gatherings. Such amorphous contexts can be identified only by the association of the midden to a domestic or ritual space. Tobacco has an equally likely chance to be present in middens containing either elite or domestic debris. Seeds may be better represented in the domestic debris as a result of processing and planting. According to the research of Kevin Groark (2010 and this volume), tobacco is commonly carried around for daily use in small gourds. Unfortunately, we are unlikely to find the gourds. More important is the notion that this was a common good carried not just by elites or for ceremonial purposes. We should consider that tobacco was probably present in domestic settings. In regard to domestic preparation, the common tools of the household may yet hold traces of nicotine. Manos and metates are some of the most frequent domestic goods recovered. Generally, their use is ascribed to the preparation of maize, amaranth, and other foodstuffs that could be ground. Based on the finding of small flasks containing ground tobacco mixed with lime (K1272), metates might also have been used for the processing of tobacco. It remains unknown if other means were used, but metates can and do retain minute amounts of residues, including fats and microfossils. CONCLUSIONS

Maya archaeology has moved from investigating the basic time lines into a period of refining and defining what we know of the ancient Maya. This is as true for the epigraphers as it is for the archaeologists. As archaeologists, one of the best means we have to assess artifact use and its behavioral context with empirical certainty is to promote residue studies. It is from these examinations that we narrow in on the particulars of behavior, ritual, and material use and function. Without these data, we contrive a rather flattened view of ancient life or even superimpose our expectations of artifacts and their use onto the collected assemblages and ultimately onto our interpretations of Maya practices. The former is unsatisfactory and the latter counterproductive. Archaeology and Tobacco 19 5

Tobacco is among the few plants or foods elevated to godlike status for the Maya. The significance of maize was generally known from the beginning, and even so the pervasiveness is not yet clearly known. Cacao has been identified more recently as a regal or godly substance, present at the highest and most grand echelons of society. We still have a limited understanding of where, when, and how cacao was consumed and appreciated. For tobacco use by the ancient Maya, our investigations and understanding of the scope and contexts of its place in daily and ritual practice have really only begun. We know that it was an important substance, as evidenced by Maya imagery. In order to get a deeper understanding of that importance, however, we need to start untangling the relationships among substance, artifacts, uses, and imagery. It is not satisfactory just to know that tobacco was present both in daily life and in high ritual; exploration through residues has the potential to give us information regarding the where and how of such uses. We need to invest more toward the goal of exploring the working parameters for residue analyses in order to address these questions. Reasonable limitations and expectations have to be appreciated and considered while conducting the collection and analysis of samples. This means that our initial efforts will have to be well designed and encompassing of the broadest scope possible, while remaining effective and replicable—no small feat. If there is one constant with Maya archaeology, it is that once we pull on one string, we find a thousand more tangled together. The reward, however, is worth every last bit of effort. REFERENCES CITED Brady, James E., et al. 1997 Speleothem Breakage, Movement, Removal, and Caching: An Aspect of Ancient Maya Cave Modification. Geoarchaeology: An International Journal 12(6):725–50. Brady, James E., and Andrea Stone 1986 Naj Tunich: Entrance to the Maya Underworld. Archaeology 39(6):18-25. Cagnato, Clarissa, et al. 2015 Strolling through Madame Mandeville’s Garden: The Real and Imagined Landscape of Eighteenth Century New Orleans, Louisiana. Journal of Ethnobiology 35(2):235–62. Carlson, J. B. 2007a Tobacco in Enema? and Maya Flasks and Miniature Vessels. Aztlan listserv

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posting on FAMSI website, July 8. http://www.famsi.org/piper,ao; /aztlan/2007-July/003030.html. 2007b Entries 16–19, 118. In The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress: A Catalog of the Gift of the Jay I. Kislak Foundation to the Library of Congress, ed. Arthur Dunkelman, 11–13, 42. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Charters, S., et al. 1993 Quantification and Distribution of Lipid in Archaeological Ceramics: Implications for Sampling Potsherds for Organic Residue Analysis. Archaeometry 35:211–23. de Borhegyi, C. 2012 Ancient Maya “Poison Bottles.” Yucatan Times. http://www.theyucatan times.com/2012/11/ancient-maya-poison-bottles/. Dedrick, Maia 2014 The Distributed Household: Plant and Mollusk Remains from K’axob, Belize. MA thesis, Department of Anthropology, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. de Smet, P. A. G. M. 1985 Ritual Enemas and Snuffs in the Americas. Amsterdam: Center for Latin American Research and Documentation. Eerkens, Jelmer, et al. 2012 GC/MS Analysis of Residues Reveals Nicotine in Two Late Prehistoric Pipes from CA-ALA-554. Society for California Archaeology Proceedings 26:212–19. Evershed, R. P. 2008 Experimental Approaches to the Interpretation of Absorbed Organic Residues in Archaeological Ceramics. World Archaeology 40(1):26–47. Furst, P. T., and M. D. Coe 1977 Ritual Enemas. Natural History 86(3):88–91. Groark, K. 2010 The Angel in the Gourd: Ritual, Therapeutic, and Protective Uses of Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum) among the Tzeltal and Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. Journal of Ethnobiology 30(1):5–30. Haslam, Michael 2004 The Decomposition of Starch Grains in Soils: Implications for Archaeological Residue Samples. Journal of Archaeological Science 31:1715–34. Hellmuth, N. M. 1978 Teotihuacan Art in the Escuintla, Guatemala, Region. In Middle Classic Mesoamerica: A.D. 400–700, ed. Esther Pasztory, 71–85. New York: Columbia University Press. Archaeology and Tobacco 197

Holliday, V. T. 2004 Soils in Archeological Research. New York: Oxford University Press. Houston, S. D., D. Stuart, and K. A. Taube 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Hurst, W. J. 2006 The Determination of Cacao in Samples of Archaeological Interest. In Chocolate in Mesoamerica, ed. C. L. McNeil. Tallahassee: University Press of Florida. Hurst, W. J., et al. 1989 Authentication of Cocoa in Ancient Mayan Vessels Using HighPerformance Liquid Chromatographic Techniques. Journal of Chromatography 466:279–89. Hurst, W. J., et al. 2002 Archaeology: Cacao Usage by the Earliest Maya Civilization. Nature 28:289–90. James, M. A., et al. 2009 High Prestige Royal Purple Dyed Textiles from the Bronze Age Royal Tomb at Qatna, Syria. Antiquity 83(322):1109–18. Jones, John G. 1993 Analysis of Pollen and Phytoliths in Residue from a Colonial Period Ceramic Vessel. In Current Research in Phytolith Analysis: Applications in Archaeology and Paleocology, ed. Deborah M. Pearsall and Dolores R. Piperno, 31–73. Philadelphia: University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania. Kealhofer, Lisa 1999 Integrating Phytoliths within Use-Wear/Residue Studies of Stone Tools. Journal of Archaeological Science 26:527–46. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer 2018 Distinguishing the Uses, Functions, and Purposes of Classic Maya “Chocolate” Containers: Not All Cups Are for Drinking. Ancient Mesoamerica (June):1-18. doi:10.1017/S0956536117000359. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer, and Dmitri Zagorevski 2016 Maya Flasks: The “Home” of Tobacco and Godly Substances. Ancient Mesoamerica 27(1):1–11. Loughmiller-Newman, Jennifer 2012 The Analytic Reconciliation of Classic Mayan Elite Pottery: Squaring Pottery Function with Form, Adornment, and Residual Contents. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University at Albany, State University of New York. 19 8

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Loy, T., Matthew Spriggs, and Stephen Wickler 1992 Direct Evidence for Human Use of Plants 28,000 Years Ago: Starch Residues on Stone Artefacts from the Northern Solomon Islands. Antiquity 66:898–912. 1994 Methods in the Analysis of Starch Residues on Prehistoric Stone Tools. In Tropical Archaeobotany: Applications and New Developments, ed. Jon G. Hather, 86–111. New York: Routledge. Martin, S. 2006 Cacao in Ancient Maya Religion: First Fruit from the Maize Tree and Other Tales from the Underworld. In Chocolate in Mesoamerica: A Cultural History of Cacao, ed. C. L. McNeil, 154–83. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Matheson, Carney D., Jay Hall, and Rene Viel 2011 Drawing First Blood from Maya Ceramics at Copan, Honduras. In Archaeological Science under a Microscope: Studies in Residue and Ancient DNA Analysis in Honour of Thomas H. Loy, 190–97. Terra Australis. McCreery, Richard 2000 Raman Spectroscopy for Chemical Analysis, vol. 157 of Chemical Analysis. New York: Wiley-Interscience. McNeil, C. L. 2006 Traditional Cacao Use in Modern Meosamerica. In Chocolate in Mesoamerica: A Cultural History of Cacao, ed. C. L. McNeil, 341–66. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Millon, René 1988 The Last Years of Teotihuacan Dominance. In The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations, ed. G. Cowgill, 102–64. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Morell-Hart, Shanti 2011 Paradigms and Syntagms of Ethnobotanical Practice in Pre-Hispanic Northwestern Honduras. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley. Nicholson, H. B., and A. Chordy-Collins 1979 Pre-Columbian Art from the Land Collection. Los Angeles: California Academy of Sciences. Parnell, Jacob J., Richard E. Terry, and Zachary Nelson 2002 Soil Chemical Analysis Applied as an Interpretive Tool for Ancient Human Activities in Piedras Negras, Guatemala. Journal of Archaeological Science 29:379–404. Pearsall, Deborah M. 2000 Paleoethnobotany: A Handbook of Procedures. New York: Academic. Archaeology and Tobacco 19 9

Piperno, Dolores R. 1988 Phytolith Analysis: An Archaeological and Geological Perspective. New York: Academic. Planella, M. T., et al. 2018 Saberes compartidos y particularidades regionales en las prácticas fumatorias de sociedades del periodo alfarero temprano del norte semiárido, centro y sur de Chile, América del Sur. Revista Chilena de Antropología 37:20–57. Powis, Terry G., et al. 2007 Oldest Chocolate in the New World. Antiquity 81(314): 302–5. Powis, Terry G., et al. 2013 Prehispanic Use of Chili Peppers in Chiapas, Mexico. PLoS ONE 8(11):e79013. http://dx.doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0079013. Prufer, K., and W. J. Hurst 2007 Chocolate in the Underworld Space of Death: Cacao Seeds from an Early Classic Mortuary Cave. Ethnohistory 54:273–301. Rafferty, Sean M. 2002 Identification of Nicotine by Gas Chromatography/Mass Spectroscopy Analysis of Smoking Pipe Residue. Journal of Archaeological Science 29:897–907. 2006 Evidence of Early Tobacco in Northeastern North America? Journal of Archaeological Science 33:453–58. Rafferty, S. M., et al. 2012 Current Research on Smoking Pipe Residues. Journal of Archaeological Science 39:1951–59. Redfield, R., and A. Villa Rojas 1934 Chan Kom: A Maya Village. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Rice, P. M. 1987 Pottery Analysis: A Sourcebook. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Robicsek, F. 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Rothenberg, K. A. 2010 Multi-Elemental Chemical Analysis of Anthropogenic Soils as a Tool for Examining Spatial Use Patterns at Prehispanic Palmarejo, Northwest Honduras. MA thesis, Department of Anthropology, University of South Florida. Roys, R. L. 1976 The Ethno-Botany of the Mayas. Philadelphia, PA: Institute for the Study of Human Issues. 200

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Schiffer, M. B. 1987 Formation Processes of the Archaeological Record. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. 1988 The Effects of Surface Treatment on Permeability and Evaporative Cooling Effectiveness of Pottery. In Proceedings of the 26th International Archaeometry Symposium, ed. R. M. Farquhar, R. G. V. Hancock, and L. A. Pavlish, 15–19. Toronto: Conference Proceedings. Smith, R. E. 1955 Ceramic Sequence at Uaxactun, Guatemala. New Orleans, LA: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University Spenard, Jon 2006 The Gift in the Cave for the Gift of the World: An Economic Approach to Ancient Maya Cave Rituals in the San Francisco Hill-Caves, Cancuen Region, Guatemala. MA thesis, Department of Anthropology, Florida State University. Steggerda, M., and B. Korsch 1943 Remedies for Diseases as Prescribed by Maya Indian Herb-Doctors. Bulletin of the History of Medicine 13:54–82. Stern, B., et al. 2000 A Comparison of Methods for Establishing Fatty Acid Concentration Gradients across Potsherds: A Case Study Using Late Bronze Age Canaanite Amphorae. Archaeometry 42:399–414. Stone, Andrea J. 1995 Images from the Underworld: Naj Tunich and the Tradition of Maya Cave Painting. Austin: University of Texas Press. Taube, Karl A. 1992 The Major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Tedlock, Dennis 1996 Popol Vuh: The Definitive Edition of the Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life. New York: Simon and Schuster. Torres, Sylvia A. 2016 DART-Ms Analysis of Historic Tobacco Pipes to Investigate the Preservation of Nicotine Residues. McNair Scholars Research Journal 7(1):article 11. Tozzer, A. M. 1941 Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatán. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology. Tushingham, Shannon, et al. 2013 Hunter-Gatherer Tobacco Smoking: Earliest Evidence from the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America. Journal of Archaeological Science 40:1397–1407. Archaeology and Tobacco 2 01

Viel, R. 1993 Evolucion de la ceramica de Copán, Honduras. Tegucigalpa, Honduras: Instituto Hondureño de Antropologίa e Historia. Viel, R., and C. D. Cheek 1983 Sepulturas. In Introduccion a la arqeuologίa de Copán, ed. C. Baudez, 551–610. Tegucigalpa, Honduras: Instituto Hondureño de Antropologίa e Historia, and Secretaria de Cultura y Turismo. Vogt, E. Z. 1969 Zinacantan: A Maya Community in the Highlands of Chiapas. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1976 Tortillas for the Gods: A Symbolic Analysis of Zinacanteco Rituals. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Wells, E. C. 2004 Investigating Activity Patterns in Prehispanic Plazas: Weak AcidExtraction ICP-AES Analysis of Anthrosols at Classic Period El Coyote, Northwestern Honduras. Archaeometry 46:67–84. Wells, E .C., C. Novotny, and J. R. Hawken 2007 Quantitative Modeling of Soil Chemical Data from Inductively Coupled Plasma-Optical Emission Spectroscopy Reveals Evidence for Cooking and Eating in Ancient Mesoamerican Plazas. In Archaelogical Chemistry: Analytical Techniques and Archaeological Interpretation, ed. Michael D. Glascock, Robert J. Speakman, and Rachel S. Popelka-Filcoff, 210–30. New York: Oxford University Press. Wells, E. C., and R. E. Terry 2007 Introduction. Geoarchaeology 22:387–90. Wilbert, J. 1987 Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Young, Lisa C., and Tammy Stone 1990 The Thermal Properties of Textured Ceramics: An Experimental Study. Journal of Field Archaeology 35:195–203. Zagorevski, D., and J. Loughmiller-Newman 2012 The Detection of Nicotine in a Late Mayan Period Flask by Gas Chromatography and Liquid Chromatography Mass Spectrometry Methods. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry 26(4):403–11.

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CHAPTER NINE

The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle The Functionality, Form, Context, and Distribution of Classic Maya Tobacco Flasks K E I T H E P P I C H A N D O L I V I A N AVA R R O - FA R R

Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle fits easily into one’s hand. It measures 4.7 cm wide and 8.1 cm tall (figure 9.1). It’s a rectangular ceramic flask of a type that scholars traditionally referred to as “poison bottles” (see Reents-Budet 1994:214–15). It’s not a poison bottle, of course. Twenty-first-century epigraphic and chemical residue analyses strongly argue that such vessels carried powdered tobacco, most likely tobacco snuff. Snuff must be treated differently from regular tobacco. Powdered tobacco, to be rolled and smoked, is fairly hardy. Literally, any water-resistant bag or pouch will do. Across the world of smokers, leather pouches are the most common (Gilman and Xun 2004). On the other hand, snuff demands a set of functional considerations. Snuff can’t get too wet or too dry and thus requires an airtight, waterproof container. Cultures with a tradition of snuff, from Enlightenment Europe to Qing Dynasty China, all developed elaborate, specialized containers for snuff. Among other qualities, it has to be the right size: too large and it will hold air and the snuff will get dry, too small and it won’t hold enough for regular consumption. According to modern hobbyists, the proper box should hold a day’s worth of snuff (Curtis 1935). One uses a small spoon or two fingers to pinch off a quantity. The tobacco is brought up to the nostril and inhaled with a strong sniff, which is usually followed by a sneeze. European snuff boxes and Chinese snuff bottles are remarkably similar in size, although Europeans favored a two-fingered pinch and the Chinese preferred a small ivory spoon. Both Chinese and European examples are slightly smaller

than Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle, but only slightly. They all fit quite nicely into the hand. Lady K’abel was buried with her snuff bottle in a tomb that came to be called El Perú-Waka’ Burial 61. A team led by Olivia Navarro-Farr discovered K’abel’s tomb in 2012 (Freidel 2012; Navarro-Farr et al. 2013; see also Navarro-Farr 2016). Navarro-Farr’s team documented thousands of jade artifacts, dozens of ceramic vessels, and a small alabaster bottle with “Lady Waterlily-Hand” written down one side. “Waterlily-Hand” is an alternate spelling for K’abel, underscoring the likely identity of the tomb’s occupant. The polychrome ceramics of the tomb also confirm an early eighth-century date. The queen was buried in a place of great honor, in Structure M13-1, the main urban temple for the city-state of El Perú-Waka’. She lived in the late seventh century and early eighth and publicly proclaimed her connection to the great city of Calakmul, being either the daughter or granddaughter of Yuhknoom Ch’een II, the Great. K’abel was no shrinking violet of a queen. She took the title ix kaloomte’ (overking), outranking her own royal husband. On Stela 34, she is portrayed larger than life, holding a shield and scepter, an attendant dwarf at her side (Guenter 2014; Wanyerka 1996). Lady K’abel ruled over El Perú-Waka’, a major city-state located in the northwestern Petén. El Perú-Waka’ stood above the junction of a major crossroads of the Classic Maya world (Freidel et al. 2007). To the east and west was the Río San Pedro Mártir, a navigable waterway leading into the center of the Petén. To the north and south was the Great Western Route, a series of trails and traces leading from the highlands of the south to the Yucatán peninsula in the north (Demarest and Fahsen 2002; Woodfill and Andrieu 2012). El Perú-Waka’ grew from a series of scattered farmsteads and villages in the Late Preclassic into a fairly sizable Classic urban center. It featured in all the major events of known Classic Maya history, from the Teotihuacanoid Entrada to the collapse of Classic civilization itself (Grube and Martin 2008; Eppich 2015; Martin and Grube 2008). El Perú-Waka’ was most likely a prominent junior partner in Kaanul, the Calakmul Hegemony, an alliance of city-states led by that massive northern center. Lady K’abel served as the living embodiment of the allegiance between El Perú-Waka’ and Calakmul. Her husband called the ruler of Calakmul “brother,” and her children called him “uncle.” She, apparently, liked her snuff. She would have tilted the bottle, tapped out a bit of the powder, pinched it perhaps between thumb and forefinger, and then lifted it either to her nose and sniffed or to her mouth, placing a wad 204

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rim lip

side glyphic elements, identical to the first column carved apron glossy, tan slip

carved glyphic elements

FIG U R E 9.1  Lady K’abel’s snuff

bottle.

Drawing by Keith Eppich.

inside, like chewing tobacco (see Groark, this volume). Then Lady K’abel, the ’ix kaloomte’, daughter of the snake kings of Calakmul, queen of El Perú-Waka’, would have sucked the powdered mahy, drank the juice, or let it run freely down her chin. She would have returned the stopper to the top of the bottle and set it to one side. Perhaps she glanced at it as she did so. Her snuff bottle is of unusual design and manufacture. It contains molded and deeply carved glyphs on the front and sides (figure 9.1). The slip covering it is smooth and well-fired with a glossy yellow-cream color. It is a very well-made piece of The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 2 0 5

Classic Maya ceramic art. The bottle is in remarkably good condition despite spending twelve centuries underneath the forest floor. K’abel’s bottle, however, is not unique. The form, the design, and the slip all identify the bottle as belonging to a ceramic type known as Don Gordon Modeled-Carved (Willey et al. 1994:219, 321). The Don Gordon vessels all have a smooth yellow-cream slip and modeled and deeply carved designs. Except for a few embellishments around the shoulder, Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle is identical to other Don Gordon flasks. Archaeologically, such flasks, both whole and fragmentary, are concentrated in the Copan pocket. The type has been chemically sourced to the Copan region (Bishop and Beaudry 1994), an area around the Classic city more than 400 km away from El Perú-Waka’. The curious aspect of Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle is that it came from the other side of the Classic Maya world. In this chapter we examine the Classic Maya vessels called tobacco flasks. We review their functionality, form, context, and distribution and the implications of all of the above. We use the recent finds from the archaeological investigations at the site of El Perú-Waka’ to do so. It remains unknown how representative El Perú-Waka’ might be in terms of the Classic Maya world, but that city serves as an important starting point for such research. The Classic Maya may have been the first major civilization to develop a tradition of snuff containers and may be the origin point for a global tradition of keeping tobacco snuff in beautiful and elegant vessels. L AT E C L A S S I C S N U F F B O T T L E S : FUNCTIONALIT Y AND FORM

David Stuart (2005) reads the glyphs on an unprovenienced “poison bottle” as y-otoot ’u-mahy ’ahk mo’ (it is the home of the tobacco powder of Turtle Macaw). These miniature vessels were often hypothesized to have held pigments and paints, possibly even cinnabar (Smith 1955:90). It is very likely that some did hold pigments (Reents-Budet 1994:213, 232). However, many of them held tobacco. Some even bear the glyphs for mahy (tobacco powder) or contain tobacco imagery on their exterior. Tobacco leaves possess a distinct look: long and broad with clear midribs and veins. Maya imagery of tobacco leaves is unmistakable. Stephen Houston and his colleagues (2006) explore this further, noting a number of small vessels with tobacco imagery and mahy glyphs. In their 2006 work, The Memory of Bones, Houston and his coauthors 206

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make the connection between tobacco powder and snuff, noting the strong similarity between the Classic Maya “poison bottles” and known snuff bottles from Native America and Qing Dynasty China. It is known that the Maya practice insufflation, the taking of snuff through the nostril. Modern Maya use small, narrow-necked gourds into which they drill small holes to allow a cord for carrying (Groark 2010 and this volume; Starr 1900–1902; Thompson 1990). Michael Deal (1998) notes that small ceramic heirloom jars are still used to carry tobacco powder. Rubber stoppers placed in the small opening would suffice to keep the container both airtight and waterproof. The bottles are loaded with crushed snuff: finely ground tobacco mixed with lime and additional aromatics. The mixture is packed into the bottle using the fingers and a long spatula. This very action may be depicted in Classic Maya art. On the Chiik Nahb murals of Calakmul, a male figure lifts a long spatula toward a second figure whose hands are occupied below him. The adjacent glyphs suggest that the man is an ’aj mahy, a “tobacco person” (Martin 2012:66). The figure in the mural may be a vendor providing tobacco snuff to a client, who may be packing his snuff bottle. The epigraphy and iconography of tobacco have been confirmed by chemical residue analysis (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012; LoughmillerCardinal and Zagorevski 2016; Loughmiller-Cardinal, this volume). Nicotine, a psychoactive chemical that is present in tobacco, can potently interact with the human nervous system (Goodman 1993; Iverson 2003; Loughmiller-Cardinal and Eppich, this volume). It occurs only in the plants of the nightshade family, generally in fairly small amounts. Only in the leaves of the tobacco plant, genus Nicotiana, does it appear in significant quantities. There is no evidence that humans have used other nightshades for their nicotine content. Tomatoes are nightshades, but nobody’s smoking tomatoes. On the other hand, humans have smoked a lot of tobacco. Therefore, to find chemical evidence of nicotine is to find the ancient presence of tobacco. From the interior of a Codex-style flask bearing the glyphs for y-otoot ’u-mahy (the home of tobacco), Dmitri Zagorevski and Jennifer Loughmiller-Newman (2012) recovered trace amounts of nicotine. Hence, the tobacco flask held exactly what the glyphs stated it did. Many ancient Maya vessels bear hieroglyphic texts that seemingly indicate their contents (Stuart 2005, 2006; Zender 2000). The tobacco flask is similar to the famous Río Azul chocolate pot, whose exterior text proclaims it as a container for cacao; subsequent chemical analysis confirmed the Maya hieroglyphs (Hall et al. 1990; Hurst et al. 1989; Stuart 1988). The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 2 07

Small vessels with tobacco glyphs and tobacco imagery were used for tobacco, almost certainly tobacco snuff (Carlson 2011; Houston et al. 2006). Again, the form of the vessels suggests their function. Snuff requires a certain set of dimensions. The Codex-style flask that tested positive for nicotine measures 5.8 cm by 6 cm with a volume of approximately 80 mL (Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012). Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle measures 4.7 cm by 8.1 cm with a volume of about 90 mL. European snuff boxes and Chinese snuff bottles are of similar dimensions: 4–7 cm on one side and 3–5 cm on the other (Le Corbeiller 1966; Low 2007; Comforth and Cheung 2007; Curtis 1935). They all fit very comfortably in the palm. A narrow neck and restricted orifice, one that could be fitted with a rubber stopper or leather cover, would be a necessity. In the flasks studied at El Perú-Waka’, all the openings measured 2–3 cm across. Similar to modern gourds used for snuff, small handles or drilled holes are not uncommon. Such holes could be threaded with leather cord so that the gourd could be easily carried on the person. The use of tobacco is a public act. This is especially true for snuff. The container must be revealed, an amount tapped or spooned out, the snuff sniffed or chewed and sucked. It is therefore an act of conspicuous consumption. Perhaps this is the reason that Enlightenment Europeans, Qing Chinese, and the Classic Maya all produced snuff boxes and bottles of surpassing artistry. Indeed, a modern collecting community seeks out rare and precious specimens of these containers, paying tremendous sums for legal, non-looted examples and thus underscoring their transcendent allure across time. In 2011, Antique Trader magazine reported a Fabergé snuff box fetching $1.4 million at auction. Such containers were meant to be beautiful, they were meant to be displayed, and they were intentionally designed to show off the wealth and sophistication of their owner. In the Popul Vuh, the sons of the progenitors of the Quiché received their emblems of lordship. Among the macaw feathers and nosepieces is a k’us b’us, a tobacco gourd (Tedlock 1996:204; Christenson 2003:258–59). A Classic Maya tobacco flask, then, is a small ceramic vessel, 5–8 cm tall and 4–6 cm wide. To hold the snuff, it should possess a narrow neck and a restricted orifice about 2–3 cm across. The plug was likely rubber, as only a handful of Maya ceramic covers have been found so far. Drilled holes and small handles are present on some examples. The vessel’s exterior sometimes serves as the canvas for considerable artistic expression and elaboration. Decoration can be carved or, less often, painted in polychrome slip (Loughmiller-Newman 2011). However, many examples possess no known decoration at all. 208

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A word of caution is warranted. Not all such miniature vessels functioned as tobacco flasks. Some clearly did not. The small alabaster vessel that bears the name Lady Waterlily-Hand was clearly for something else. It’s too small and the opening is the wrong shape for tobacco. Erik Boot (2005) and Nikolai Grube (1993) report a number of small vessels bearing glyphs for ’uch’ajil, which is some manner of liquid, possibly a pigment or an unguent. Often, small vessels are found containing cinnabar. Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle contained cinnabar and was liberally coated with the stuff, as was the entirety of her tomb. Also, these vessels could have been repurposed for any number of uses, much like modern cigar boxes are reused. Still, the form, iconography, epigraphy, and chemistry of such bottles do argue for a primary function as containers of tobacco snuff.

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T H E T O B A C C O F L A S K S O F E L P E R Ú - W A K A’

Since investigations began at El Perú-Waka’ in 2003, archaeologists have recovered 14 of these vessels from the ruined city (figure 9.2). There exists a distinct pattern to their archaeological context. Most resemble Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle in their deposition, while others differ in interesting ways. First, Maya snuff bottles often occur in funerary contexts. Of the 14, excavators recovered 11 from burials. Seven of these were from elite contexts, burials with elaborate funerary architecture located inside specialized ritual structures and accompanied by high-quality polychrome serving vessels. For example, the Tolok Flask (figure 9.2c) was discovered in Burial 21, a collapsed cist burial in the Tolok Group. The flask was directly associated with 4 elaborate polychrome vessels, including an Ik’-style full-figural polychrome vase from the neighboring city-state of Motul de San José (Eppich 2007; see also Just 2012; Reents-Budet et al. 2012). The flask’s vessel form and surface treatment do not resemble other ceramics from El Perú-Waka’. It does appear to match vessels known from Motul de San José (Antonia Foias, pers. comm., 2014). Like Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle, the Tolok Flask seems to be nonlocal in origin. Both vessels come from the burials of individuals at the apex of Classic Maya society, Lady K’abel being the city’s queen and the Burial 21 individual being the head of a noble lineage with close connections to the ruling elite. Second, the degree of elaboration present on the snuff bottles closely matches other indicators of status in Maya society. Snuff bottles with carved glyphic elements or glossy, well-fired exterior slips appear in burials of the The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 2 0 9

A

reattached sherd edges

B

matte back slip

hollow handles

glossy black slip C

glossy cream slip

modeled ridges

modeled ridges top-oblique angle eroded area

D

E

modeled carved panel

remains of a cream slip

reattached sherd edges

carved panel from opposite side

black slip

bright red slip

bright orange baseslip

F I G UR E 9. 2  Ceramic miniatures of El Perú-Waka’: (a) Achotes Black jar from Structure M13-1; (b) Achotes Black jar from Chakah; (c) cream-slipped jar from Burial 21, Structure M14-15; (d) modeled-carved vessel from Chakah; (e) polychrome bottle from Burial 39, Structure O14-04. Drawings by Keith Eppich.

Maya elite. Fairly simple monochrome vessels (figure 9.2b) occur in burials of the middling sorts. These burials possessed one or two polychrome serving vessels, but such vessels lacked glyphic texts or full-figural scenes. The burials were large cists, but they were not tombs nor were they located in specialized ritual architecture. This middling category included 3 of the 14 flasks. Four vessels were small and unslipped or possessed thin matte slips (figure 9.2a). They occurred singly, alone in simple interments or as part of other ritual deposits. The two exceptions to this are bottles found in a mixed construction fill and from a badly disturbed context. Their original deposition cannot be determined. One of these, the God L Flask, deserves some additional attention (figure 9.2d). Archaeologists recovered it from the badly disturbed remains of a collapsed residential structure (Quiroa and Guillot Vassaux 2005). The carved designs on both sides portray God L, identifiable by his walking stick and the Muan bird atop his hat. God L is one of the smoking gods identified by Francis Robicsek (1978). He frequently appears in Maya art smoking a cigar, is associated with tobacco, and is considered the patron deity of wealth and commerce (Taube 1992; see also Carlson 2011). The God L Flask recovered from El Perú-Waka’ seems an imitation of other high-quality snuff bottles. Those circular snuff bottles bear much higher-quality modeled-carved designs of God L and God K (Loughmiller-Newman 2011; see below). Third, 12 of the 14 snuff bottles from El Perú-Waka’ come from Late Classic burial and deposit contexts (AD 600–800). One exception is a tobacco flask from Burial 23, which dates to the early 900s and is therefore not far removed from its fellows. This cannot be a result of a bias in excavation, as investigations of Terminal Classic contexts far exceed that of any other time period (Eppich 2011). The Early Classic occupation of the site remains underrepresented since much of that material lies deeply buried under later deposition. However, for burials, the Early Classic material is well studied. It is odd that no Early Classic snuff bottles have yet been recovered from El Perú-Waka’. In the royal funerary vessels of the Early Classic city, there appears to be no equivalent to Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle. For this one ancient city, the ownership and possession of a ceramic snuff bottle currently appears to be a Late Classic phenomenon, although this may change with further investigation. Finally, the distribution of snuff bottles in the city itself is highly localized. Of the 14 bottles, 2 are from one residence compound, the elite Tolok Group. Three are from neighboring patio groups in the Chakah District. Two are from deposits in a single building, the main urban temple of Structure M13-1 The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 211

(Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle is included in this category). Four are from a single tomb, Burial 39. The remaining 3 are scattered across the site. This is even more remarkable considering that extensive excavations into three major residence compounds yielded no tobacco flasks whatsoever. This may suggest that tobacco usage among the Classic Maya varied from group to group. It is generally thought that the social units that inhabited these residence compounds consisted of large, extended families (Eppich 2011). Some families may have had a custom of snuff taking, while others preferred the more traditional Maya cigar or perhaps declined to indulge at all. Access to the ruling family seems to have played a significant role since 7 of the 14 vessels occur in funerary contexts containing individuals at or near the apex of Classic society. The taking of snuff from a beautifully decorated bottle may have been part of courtly etiquette. These vessels remain rare. A decade of archaeological investigation at El Perú-Waka’ has yielded only these 14 examples. The connections and commonalities of the snuff bottles at this one site only hint at the patterns present in the distant past. Still, the correlations we have described seem strong. To further explore them, a wider perspective must be employed, including an examination of snuff bottles from other portions of the Classic Maya world. W I D E R P AT T E R N S I N T H E C L A S S I C M AYA W O R L D

Three factors complicate the study of Maya tobacco flasks. One, the published corpus of Maya ceramics does little to track the number, style, and context of specific vessel forms. Two, the published record itself contains numerous gaps and omissions. There is simply too much unpublished information to allow a quantitative analysis of any single ceramic form in the Classic Maya pottery tradition. Third, a large number of these vessels are unprovenienced. Because many derive from looted contexts, their original provenience can really only be guessed at. So, while the effort continues to track these little vessels across the whole of Maya archaeology, it will always remain something of a work in progress. What can be discerned seems, at this stage, to support the patterns of the vessels recovered from the archaeology of El Perú-Waka’. Most, but not all, of the tobacco flasks date to the Late Classic. Some, but not all, of the tobacco flasks come from funerary contexts. For instance, the best data come from Robert Smith’s classic 1955 publication, Ceramic Sequence of Uaxactun. Smith 21 2

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gives details on 20 miniature vessels that fit the description for snuff bottles given above. Of the 20, 12 date to the Late Classic. Excavators recovered 5 of the 20 from burials, but Smith gives few details for the remaining vessels. Patrick Culbert (1993) depicted 12 miniature vessels from Tikal that could be considered snuff bottles. Of the 12, 5 date to the Late Classic with only 3 originating from funerary contexts. From the Tikal-Uaxactun data, it is interesting to note that neither site possesses the high-quality snuff bottles described above; the vessels have neither the elaborate polychromes nor the modeled-carved designs known for El Perú-Waka’. Even in the most elaborate burials, nothing at either site comes close to Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle. Indeed, in all the elaborate royal tombs of Tikal, snuff bottles are conspicuously absent. If the taking of snuff served as courtly etiquette in some places, it does not seem to have been part of the etiquette practiced at the royal court of Tikal. Other Classic sites lack the detailed ceramic reports of Tikal and Uaxactun. There, snuff bottles, miniature jars, or ceramic flasks are mentioned sporadically but only as part of other research designs. At Aguateca, a rapidly abandoned site, excavators report 4 “miniature bottles” from above-floor deposits (Inomata and Stiver 1998). Richard Adams (1971) describes 2 fragmentary flasks from ninth-century contexts at Altar de Sacrificios. A single miniature polychrome jar is described at Late Classic Seibal (Sabloff 1975:149). From the seminal Barton Ramie ceramic report, James Gifford (1976) reports 5 miniature globular vessels. Four are from funerary contexts, and all 5 are from the site’s Late Classic occupation. From Minanha, Sonja Schwake (2008) describes 2 flasks, including a good example of a circular tobacco flask, from a Late Classic crypt with multiple individuals. Additional examples of such ceramics have been reported from Calakmul (Domínguez Carrasco and Folan 1999), Piedras Negras (Butler 1935; see also Muñoz 2006), and Caracol (Chase and Chase 2002, 2010). From Caracol, in fact, the Chases have recovered about 20 such vessels with very distinct drip spouts. They include a superlative example with a molded image of God K on one side, found in a tomb, of course, with a Late Classic date (Chase and Chase 2010:fig. 92). Clearly, more data need to be collected concerning the depositions and dates of these small ceramic vessels. Yet the information thus far suggests that a majority of Classic Maya snuff bottles appear in funerary deposits of the Late Classic. Earlier and later examples do occur and in a variety of contexts, but it does seem as if this ceramic shape gained a certain degree of popularity during the seventh and eighth centuries. It was, however, an uneven popularity. Snuff The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 213

bottles appear in uneven clusters, being frequent at some sites while rare or absent at others. El Perú-Waka’ has only been under archaeological investigation since 2003, yet the site possesses more snuff bottles than the whole of Tikal. The examples from El Perú-Waka’ include high-quality types absent from the ceramic corpus of Tikal, including polychromes and modeled-carved designs. Similarly, Caracol has more miniature bottles than Uaxactun and, again, higher quality ones. This could be simply a result of differential reporting and publication. Another explanation could be the connection between tobacco snuff, snuff bottles, and courtly etiquette (see Houston et al. 2006:127; Inomata 2001). The taking of tobacco snuff as part of courtly etiquette likely varied from palace to palace across the various city-states of the Classic world. This would, of course, be reflected in the distribution of snuff bottles, their number, and their quality. In courts with a tradition of insufflation, snuff bottles would be used, highly prized, highly decorated, and exchanged between elites. In cities that lacked such a tradition, there would be no need for such specialized ceramics. In terms of snuff bottles, one site features more prominently than any other: Copan. William Doonan (1996) reports 10 vessels from one compound, Group 10L-2, that fit the definition given above for snuff bottles. From the Copan residential zone, Gordon Willey and colleagues (1994) recovered 32 miniature vessels, describing 25 as being “fine quality.” One is a modeled-carved rectangular flask from an elite interment, Burial 24 in CV-43 (Coggins 1988; Willey et al. 1994). It is virtually identical to Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle. Both vessels have the same hard yellow-cream slip with distinct modeled-carved designs. Such designs are created using a mold, which is pressed into the vessel wall while the clay is still soft. The impressed clay is then carved, the potter adding details and embellishments to the design prior to firing. This method makes the vessels almost identical, sharing the same design but differing in the fine details. For instance, compared to Copan’s Burial 24 flask, Lady K’abel’s bottle possesses a carved apron that flares out and glyphic elements carved with details that are deeper and wider. But both must have used the same mold, and this strongly argues for a common point of origin. The ceramic type was designated Don Gordon Modeled-Carved, part of the Tipon ceramic group (Willey et al. 1994:127). Chemical composition analysis has confirmed that such ceramics originated from the Copan Valley (Bishop and Beaudry 1994).

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T H E T O B A C C O K I N G S O F T H E C L A S S I C M AYA ?

The Don Gordon vessels were likely part of a regional tradition of modeledcarved flasks centered on the Copan Valley and associated with Copador ceramics (Card and Alfaro Moisa, this volume; Houston et al. 2006:115). There are dozens of examples from across the region of small ceramic flasks with modeled-carved designs on the sides. The most common of these vessels is a small circular flask with a modeled-carved design of God K and God L (figure 9.3). Even at a casual glance, the vessels bear very strong similarities. Numerous examples of these God L and God K circular flasks from the Maya world are scattered in various museum collections (see Dunkelman 2007). In her 2011 analysis of ceramic vessels from the Library of Congress’s Kislak Collection, Jennifer Loughmiller-Cardinal identifies 27 of these God K–God L flasks. In her analysis, she concludes that at least four distinct molds/stamps were used with six distinct artistic styles being present. These vessels were made in substantial quantities, and their large-scale production may have been located in or around the Copan pocket (Coggins 1988). The Classic Copanec Maya made these vessels and distributed them across the southeastern Maya region, likely creating a regional pattern and, like with Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle, extending such distribution beyond this region. These vessels likely held tobacco snuff. God K and God L are the chief smoking gods identified by Robicsek in 1978. Both deities are closely associated with tobacco (Taube 1992; see also Kerr and Kerr 2005). The Copan Valley is quite famous for producing high-quality tobacco, and Honduran cigars are said to rival and even surpass their Cuban counterparts (Billings 1875; Loker 2005). Copan tobacco tastes quite distinct, being very potent with a sweet flavor. Tobacco plants are quite sensitive to local conditions of soil, water, and sunlight and even if the plant is double-cropped with other vegetation (Benedict 2011). The flavor and aroma of the final product vary greatly with localized environmental conditions. Hence, specific regions become known for their distinct tobacco product. Connoisseurs quickly learn to distinguish the types, from Virginia brightleaf to the white burley of Ohio to the Pucheng tobacco of Fujian Province. This is true whether the tobacco is smoked or snuffed. Qing China greatly preferred snuff, and while eighteenth-century China grew a lot of tobacco, the country prized the flavor of Brazilian twist tobacco and imported it by the ton (Benedict 2011). It is likely that the Classic Maya grew tobacco in the Copan pocket, and such tobacco would have possessed an unmistakable The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 215

A

B

C

D

F I G U R E 9. 3  God K and God L circular flasks: (a) from the Middle American Research Institute collection; (b) from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art collection (K5810); (c) from the Kislak Collection; (d) from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art collection (K7121). Drawings by Keith Eppich.

and valued flavor. It is only logical that such distinct, high-quality tobacco would be packaged in distinct, high-quality containers. Such containers would display the wealth and sophistication of their owners and announce it as they engaged in the public act of snuff consumption. Tobacco farming tends to be quite hard on local soils. Heavy cultivation of N. rustica and N. tabacum is almost always associated with high levels of soil degradation and erosion (Benedict 2011:48–49; Goodman 1993; Wood and Worsham 1986). Thus, the large-scale soil erosion documented at Copan may have nothing to do with population levels or demographic pressures and everything to do with tobacco cultivation (Webster 2005). This hypothesis holds that the Classic city of Copan was valued not just 216

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for its access to jade or for its proximity to obsidian sources, but for its highquality tobacco. During the Late Classic, it mass-produced tobacco snuff bottles probably because it was mass-producing tobacco. If that was the case, the next question is, what were the ancient Copanecs doing with this tobacco? It has been generally established that Classic Maya civilization possessed a fairly complex set of commercial connections reaching across the whole region (Hirth and Pillsbury 2013; King 2015). It is conceivable that such vessels and their contents were sold through these connections. The cigar-smoking, tobacco-affiliated God L, it should be remembered, is the god of wealth and commerce (Kerr and Kerr 2005; Taube 1992). It is equally likely that snuff bottles were distributed through a well-documented prestige-gift economy (McAnany 2010; Reents-Budet 1998). In all likelihood, it was probably a bit of both. Modeled-carved bottles with high-quality tobacco snuff were given to visiting and distant dignitaries, and such gifts built and maintained social connections. The vessels were likely also sold as commodities, and wealth flowed toward the city-state of Copan. However, much more work needs to be done before the ancient rulers of Copan can be crowned as the tobacco kings of the Classic Maya. B E Y O N D C O M M O D I F I C AT I O N

It is not our intent here to reduce either tobacco snuff or snuff bottles to an oversimplified role as merely a commodity circulating in commercial market or prestige-gift economies. In Native American societies, tobacco was more than a recreational drug, and by extension the snuff bottles were more than just gaudy displays of wealth or sophistication. Tobacco, as a potent psychoactive chemical, straddles a nexus of the recreational, the medicinal, the divinatory, the ritual, and even the magical. It still possesses this broad functionality for Native Americans. Tobacco is an effective insecticide and a proven vermifuge. It acts as both an internal and topical analgesic and as a fairly powerful antiseptic (Goodman 1993; Wilbert 1987). In small doses, it acts as a stimulant, in large doses as a depressant, and in massive doses as a hallucinogen. In curing ceremonies, the nicotine employed by the shaman plays an active, chemical role in treating the patient. Even if the tobacco has no impact on the specific illness, its application can calm and relax the patient, easing their passing, if nothing else. Tobacco features prominently in Maya rituals. It is given as an offering. The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 217

Exhaled clouds of tobacco smoke ward off evil spirits (Thompson 1990). Tobacco smoke is offered to the gods in milpa ceremonies and is used in casting spells, including both curses and blessings (Robicsek 1978). It features heavily in divination ceremonies, placing shamans in an altered state of consciousness and allowing them direct access to the spirit world and the entities and deities inhabiting it. It is the last of these that Johannes Wilbert (1987) has focused on. The altered state of consciousness caused by large doses of nicotine includes tobacco amblyopia, dramatically changing the shaman’s perception and vision. Sight is profoundly affected: the nicotine washes out colors, creating blind spots and blurred areas. Tobacco amblyopia actually enhances night vision, granting shamans the ability to literally see the unseen. Nicotine creates an intense outof-body experience; practitioners describe their bodies as being dismembered, transformed, and reconstructed during periods of vivid visual and auditory hallucinations. With a large intake of nicotine, individuals see themselves as becoming animals moving through a darkened spirit world. “Tobacco,” Wilbert (1987:165) writes, “is thus clearly experienced as a sight- and visionaltering drug that permits the tobacco shaman to behold the numinous world.” Wilbert builds a very convincing argument that much of Native American shamanism has been constructed from and with the pharmacological effects produced by tobacco consumption. Over time, the shaman’s voice itself changes, becoming guttural and harsh. Speaking produces a low, animal growl. Tobacco serves as a crucial tool for shamanic divination and transformation. Tobacco snuff is particularly effective for these transformations. Outside of direct intravenous injection, no other method of tobacco consumption delivers nicotine to the brain quicker and in such quantities. Absorbed directly through the vascular nasal passages, nicotine largely bypasses the general metabolism of the body and travels directly to the brain (Wilbert 1987:140). Modern research has noted that multiple doses of snuff produce nicotine concentrations in the brain far in excess of those observed for smokers (Russell et al. 1981). Tobacco snuff, then, carried in beautifully decorated bottles, functioned as more than a marker of wealth and status, although it did that as well. The vessels marked their carrier as a curer, a diviner, a practitioner of shamanic ritual, and an individual capable of shamanic transformation. It thus should be no surprise that some Maya are known to carry polished tobacco gourds as charms against demons and evil spirits (Robicsek 1978:33). Such bottles hold 218

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magic and are themselves a kind of magic. Francis Robicsek (1978:35) writes that these tools are held in such high regard that when an individual dies, their tobacco and their tobacco container “are placed in the grave.” It is our contention that this is how Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle came to rest beside her in the tomb of Burial 61. The presence of the vessel doesn’t just indicate that she liked the occasional pinch of tobacco. It indicates that she possessed one of the key tools of shamanic practice. Her snuff bottle held a potent psychoactive that allowed for the perception of the numinous and for shamanic transformation through altered states of consciousness. It was a magic bottle. It shows that she was all of the things described above—a curer, a diviner, a shaman—with all the esoteric knowledge that such things required. This seems to fit with what is known of Lady K’abel, the princess of Calakmul, a queen who outranked her royal husband, who depicted herself holding a shield and scepter, who took the title of ix kaloomte’ (overking). She had an attendant dwarf named Pat Tuun Ahk, who stands beside her on Stela 34 (Guenter 2014:156; Wanyerka 1996). Among the Maya, dwarfs are seen as magical beings, inhabitants of the lands beneath the earth, attendants and helpers in divination and transformation (Bacon 2007; Miller 1985; Storniolo 2009). Lady K’abel had a magic bottle that held her tobacco powder, her mahy. This bottle, the house of mahy, came from the far end of the Maya world, displaying that the queen possessed access to the potent, high-quality mahy of Copan. Lady K’abel had strong medicine. Such magic accompanied her into the tomb for her final journey into the realm of the spirits. Now, the bottle cannot be safely held with the naked hand. Having been liberally covered in cinnabar, the surface is impregnated with toxic levels of mercury sulfide. Even today, Lady K’abel’s snuff bottle possesses the ability to affect chemically the health and mental condition of modern researchers. It still has power. REFERENCES CITED Adams, Richard E. W. 1971 The Ceramics of Altar de Sacrificios. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Antique Trader 2011 Faberge Presentation Snuff Box Brings $1.4 Million. Antique Trader. https://www.antiquetrader.com/events/auctions/faberge_snuff_box_tops _russian_auction. The Curious Case of Lady K’abel’s Snuff Bottle 219

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Martin, Simon 2012 Hieroglyphs from the Painted Pyramid: The Epigraphy of Chiik Nahb Structure Sub 1-4, Calakmul, Mexico. In Maya Archaeology, vol. 2, ed. Charles Golden, Stephen Houston, and Joel Skidmore, 60–81. San Francisco, CA: Precolumbia Mesoweb Press. Martin, Simon, and Nikolai Grube 2008 Chronicle of the Maya Kings and Queens. 2nd ed. London: Thames and Hudson. McAnany, Patricia Ann 2010 Ancestral Maya Economies in Archaeological Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Miller, Virgina E. 1985 The Dwarf Motif in Classic Maya Art. In The Fourth Palenque Round Table, ed. Elizabeth P. Benson, 141–54. San Francisco, CA: Precolumbian Art Research Institute. Muñoz, Arturo René 2006 Power, Production and Prestige: Technological Change in the Late Classic Ceramics of Piedras Negras, Guatemala. PhD dissertation, School of Anthropology, University of Arizona, Tucson. Navarro-Farr, Olivia C. 2016 Dynamic Transitions at El Perú-Waka’: Late Terminal Classic Ritual Repurposing of a Monumental Shrine. In Ritual, Violence, and the Fall of the Classic Maya Kings, ed. Gyles Iannone, Brett A. Houk, and Sonja A. Schwake, 243–69. Gainesville: University Press of Florida Navarro-Farr, Olivia C., Griselda Pérez, and Damaris Menéndez 2013 Operación WK-1: Excavaciones en la estructura M13-1. In Proyecto regional arqueológico El Perú-Waka’: Informe no. 10, temporada 2012, ed. Juan Carlos Pérez, 3–91. Guatemala City: Dirección General del Patrimonio Cultural y Natural de Guatemala. Quiroa Flores, Fabiola, and Alejandro Guillot Vassaux 2005 Investigaciones en Chakah: Sondeo e intervenciones en las estructuras J4-11, J4-12 y 03-35. In Proyecto arqueológico El Perú-Waka’: Informe no. 3, temporada 2005, ed. Hector Escobedo and David Freidel, 329–90. Guatemala City: Dirección General del Patrimonio Cultural y Natural de Guatemala. Reents-Budet, Dorie 1994 Painting the Maya Universe: Royal Ceramics of the Classic Period. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. 1998 Elite Maya Pottery and Artisans as Social Indicators. Archeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association 8(1):71–89.

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Reents-Budet, Dorie, et al. 2012 Identity and Interaction: Ceramic Styles and Social History of the Ik’ Polity, Guatemala. In Motul de San José: Politics, History and Economy in a Classic Maya Polity, ed. Antonia E. Foias and Kitty F. Emery, 67–93. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Robicsek, Francis 1978 The Smoking Gods: Tobacco in Maya Art, History, and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Russell, M. A., et al. 1981 Nicotine Intake by Snuff Users. British Medical Journal 283(6295):814–17. Sabloff, Jeremy A. 1975 Excavations at Seibal: Ceramics. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Schwake, Sonja A. 2008 The Social Implications of Ritual Behavior in the Maya Lowlands: A Perspective from Minanha, Belize. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, San Diego. Smith, Robert E. 1955 Ceramic Sequence at Uaxactun, Guatemala. New Orleans, LA: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Starr, Frederick 1900–1902 Notes upon the Ethnography of Southern Mexico. Proceedings of the Davenport Academy of Natural Sciences 8:102–98, 9:63–172. Storniolo, Judith A. 2009 Out of the Past and into the Night: Ancient Mythical Dwarfs in Modern Yucatan. Expedition 51(1):17–24. Stuart, David 1988 The Río Azul Cacao Pot: Epigraphic Observations on the Function of a Maya Ceramic Vessel. Antiquity 62(234):153–57. 2005 Glyphs on Pots: Decoding Classic Maya Ceramics. In Sourcebook for the 29th Maya Hieroglyph Forum, March 11–16, 108–65. Austin: Department of Art and Art History, University of Texas. 2006 The Language of Chocolate: References to Cacao on Classic Maya Drinking Vessels. In Chocolate in Mesoamerica: A Cultural History of Cacao, ed. Cameron L. McNeil, 185–201. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Taube, Karl Andreas 1992 The Major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection.

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Tedlock, Dennis 1996 Popol Vuh: The Definitive Edition of the Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life and the Glories of Gods and Kings. New York: Simon and Schuster. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1990 [1970] Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Wanyerka, Phil 1996 A Fresh Look at a Maya Masterpiece. Cleveland Studies in the History of Art 1:72–97. Webster, David 2005 Political Ecology, Political Economy, and the Culture History of Resource Management at Copán. In Copán: The History of an Ancient Maya Kingdom, ed. E. Wyllys Andrews and William L. Fash, 33–72. Santa Fe, NM: SAR Press. Wilbert, Johannes 1987 Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Willey, Gordon R., et al. 1994 Ceramics and Artifacts from Excavations in the Copan Residential Zone. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Wood, Sandra D., and Arch D. Worsham 1986 Reducing Soil Erosion in Tobacco Fields with No-Tillage Transplanting. Journal of Soil and Water Conservation 41(3):193–96. Woodfill, Brent, and Chloé Andrieu 2012 Tikal’s Early Classic Domination of the Great Western Trade Route: Ceramic, Lithic, and Iconographic Evidence. Ancient Mesoamerica 23(2):189–209. Zagorevski, Dmitri V., and Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Newman 2012 The Detection of Nicotine in a Late Mayan Period Flask by Gas Chromatography and Liquid Chromatography Mass Spectrometry Methods. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry 26:403–11. Zender, Marc 2000 A Study of Two Uaxactún-Style Tamale-Serving Vessels. In The Maya Vase Book, vol. 6, ed. Barbara and Justin Kerr, 1038–50. New York: Kerr Associates.

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CHAPTER TEN

Modeled Miniature Flasks in the Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán JEB J. CARD AND A N A C L AU D I A M A R Í A A L FA R O M O I S A

A wide variety of miniature vessels can be identified from Classic Maya sites of all sorts, from the “pigment” vessels of Joya de Ceren in western El Salvador to the cinnabar-filled pots under Copan Stela M (Strömsvik 1942:73, fig. 18d).1 In this chapter, we discuss examples from the Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán (MUNA) of the Late Classic “poison bottle” form or flask from the southeastern Maya region. D E S C R I P T I O N A N D C L A S S I F I C AT I O N

These modeled vessels have been classified as Madrugada Modeled-Carved, a type in the Surlo group (Bill 1997:265), which are also known as the Don Gordon Modeled-Carved of the Tipon group at Copan (Willey et al. 1994:59– 61, 219–20, 321, 404). The distribution of these bottles in and around Copan, their iconography, and the existence of one vessel dedicated to a Copan ajaw have led to the suggestion that Copan was their focus and production source (Bishop and Beaudry 1994; Eppich and Loughmiller-Cardinal 2014; Eppich and Navarro-Farr, this volume). Several modeled flasks at Copan have been found in burials and a cache in the 9N-8 complex, in the refuse of other elite residential compounds in the city core (Hendon 1987:373; Starratt 2001:121– 23), and in architectural compounds outside the main site, including Burial 24 in CV-43 (Coggins 1988:115–16, fig. 13) and CV-20 (Willey et al. 1994:219–20, 321, 404). The latter vessel has been chemically sourced to Copan (Bishop and Beaudry 1994). A fragmentary flask was also found at El Cafetal Structure 8 in

the El Paraíso Valley between Copan and Quirigua (Canuto and Bell 2008:14, fig. 10). Despite the clear focus on Copan, the modeled flasks are part of a broader southeastern Maya highland tradition of polished black-brown ceramics, such as the Chiquihuat group at Chalchuapa (Bill 1997:225–26; Sharer 1978:42–49; Willey et al. 1994:60–61). Some of the flasks have a whitish paste, but others tend more toward brown, including several in MUNA. The darker paste examples are generally more likely to have substantial burnishing and polishing, and the paste is less porous with fewer inclusions. The intended contents of such flasks have been debated, with tobacco snuff and cinnabar being the most likely. The small size and constricted shape of the flasks are ideal for storing tobacco snuff mixed with lime (Dunkelman 2007:12; Houston et al. 2006). This hypothesis has been confirmed by a non-modeled miniature vessel with the inscription y-otoot’ umahy (the home of his/her/ its tobacco) and chemical residue for nicotine (Eppich and LoughmillerCardinal 2014; Loughmiller-Cardinal, this volume; Zagorevski and LoughmillerNewman 2012). Other flasks contained cinnabar upon discovery. The type specimen for the classification of Don Gordon Modeled-Carved was found at a tomb at Copan and contained red pigment described as “probably cinnabar” (Willey et al. 1994:60, 219–20). A Madrugada Modeled-Carved white flask examined by Card in the collection of the British Museum (Am1978,03.3) has the provenience of “Guatemala” and is filled with cinnabar.2 Likewise, the Madrugada Modeled-Carved white clay flask in the collection of Tulane University’s Middle American Research Institute was filled with cinnabar (E. Wyllys Andrews, pers. comm., August 2014). Given the typical occurrence of such bottles in elite tombs, it is not difficult to imagine that they may have contained tobacco during the life of their owner, but might have come to contain cinnabar when placed in a mortuary context (Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016). Several modeled disc- or canteen-shaped and architectural flasks have been found in western El Salvador with various levels of recorded provenience (Demarest 1988:369–71, fig. 19; Longyear 1944:9, plate XIII, no. 10). Two of the flasks presented in this chapter were archaeologically excavated from Structure B1-1 at the major site of Tazumal in western El Salvador. Tazumal is the Late Classic monumental component of Chalchuapa, a major site with substantial occupation stretching from the Preclassic into the Spanish colonial period. El Salvadoran ceramics have been primarily defined in relation 228

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to Robert Sharer’s ceramic sequence from Chalchuapa. The Late Classic falls into Sharer’s (1978:115, 128) Payu phase, which shows continuity from the Xocco ceramic complex with ceramic groups such as Guazapa, Tapalhuapa, and Gualpopa and is dominated by the Copador, Arambala, Tepeto, and Jutjutla ceramic groups. This pattern holds over most of western and central El Salvador, though across the Lempa River in eastern El Salvador there is a divergence with suggestions of ties to the Gulf Coast (Andrews 1976). Structure B1-1 was the largest monumental structure in pre-Columbian El Salvador. Stanley Boggs (1943, 1944:56–72) directed the excavations from 1942 to 1952. The objects described here are located in MUNA while most of Boggs’s notes are archived at the Middle American Research Institute at Tulane University. The pyramid and palace structure of B1-1 was modified repeatedly during the Late Classic and contains numerous tombs from this period, including the wealthy Tomb 14, excavated in 1950 (Bello-Suazo 2009:137; Fowler 1995:117–24). Many of these burials and tombs contained significant high-value items, such as jade, carved stone, and ceramics. Other flasks in the MUNA collection were donated to the museum by the Dutriz family and by Walter Soundy, both in the 1970s, or came from the 2008 donation by Roberto Freund. Additional flasks were decommissioned by customs officials in El Salvador. The records for most of these flasks are in the Museo Nacional de Antropología and the Departamento de Registro de Bienes Culturales de la Secretaría de Cultura de la Presidencia. A total of about 40 miniature vessels are held by the national museum, but most of them do not fall into the narrower category of Late Classic poison bottles. F L A S K A 1 - 27 9 8

In their distribution, modeled flasks center around Copan, but A1-2798 is the only example with a legible inscription referring to a known historical figure (Card and Zender 2016). The vessel has a light brown paste, is polished on various surfaces, and contains two stamped or mold-impressed texts on the narrow rectangular ends in addition to two figural images on the wider rectangular faces. This vessel has one of the few legible Maya inscriptions found in El Salvador. Unlike the Early Classic inscribed jade plaque found in Lake Guija on the Guatemala–El Salvador border, this flask was found in a burial of Structure B1-1 at Tazumal. This context, the iconographic content of the carved scenes, and the epigraphic text suggest that A1-2798 is evidence of an Modeled Miniature Flasks 229

unequal political relationship between unnamed elites at Tazumal and the Maya dynasty at Copan. Flask A1-2798 is in the Madrugada Modeled-Carved type and is part of a subset of poison bottles: the architectural flasks. The overall shape of the vessel is rectangular, measuring 12.5 cm tall, 6 cm across, and 4.9 cm deep. The top of the flask is vaguely angular and caps the rectangular panels with a plain trapezoidal element topped by a short round neck with an orifice 3.5 cm in diameter. Red pigment fills the recessed spaces in the identical glyphic texts on the narrow sides of the vessel and in the wider iconographic panels. The base is slightly recessed but does not have any red pigment. At the time of its 1952 discovery, A1-2798 had significant stucco coating. Sections of the flask were covered with dark blue stucco while the upper crenelated edge above the panels was covered with yellow stucco. Architectural flasks contain elements used in Classic Maya two-dimensional painted and three-dimensional modeled representations signifying architecture and furniture. This is a technique seen on other kinds of Maya vessels, including a modeled bowl from Tabasco. That vessel, like a number of the tobacco flasks, depicts God L (Finamore and Houston 2010:168–69, plate 54). On A1-2798, a segmented or crenelated line separates the rectangular body of the vessel from the trapezoidal cap. A similar segmented line is used as part of a bench or throne in the vessel iconography and elsewhere indicates curtains. Other Madrugada flasks have these edge markings, including the one from Burial 24 in CV-43 in Copan (Coggins 1988:115–16, fig. 13). Flask A1-3363 in MUNA, an architectural flask discussed below, also has this element. Overall, A1-2798 presents scenes inside a house or palace chamber with figures sitting on benches (Card and Zender 2016). It may be enticing to compare these architectural allusions to the Codex-style inscribed tobacco flask with the literal invocation of a house in the inscription: y-otoot ‘u-mahy (LoughmillerCardinal and Zagorevski 2016; Loughmiller-Cardinal, this volume; Zagorevski and Loughmiller-Newman 2012). However, this term is broadly used as a metaphor for “container,” and that vessel has no architectural imagery. Further, A1-2798 does not use this glyphic construction and instead has a Primary Standard Sequence dedicatory formula comparable to those on painted cylinder vessels and other elite Maya personal goods. Stanley Boggs recovered Flask A1-2798 from excavations in Tazumal Structure B1-1, and it was deposited in MUNA in April 1952. Like other flasks found in situ, it was in a Late Classic mortuary context, Burial 20 in Structure 1E-sub, 230

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FIG U R E 10 .1  Flask A1-2798, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Jeb J. Card.

on the western side of B1-1 (Boggs 1962:491).3 A flexed burial of an adult was recorded with the head to the east, and it may be depicted in a photograph in MUNA dated January 25, 1952. The burial contained three perforated jade beads, three carved jade plaques, two quatrefoils (one in the shape of a fish), and pyrite reflectors, possibly a mirror (Card and Zender 2016). The iconography of the figural panels of A1-2798 refers to themes of tribute. One panel depicts an old god, possibly the creator God D, receiving tribute in the form of a quetzal bird from a dwarf (figure 10.1). Similar scenes appear on painted polychrome vessels with hieroglyphic captions that make the receipt of tribute more explicit (Card and Zender 2016). The panel on the opposite side depicts a lord giving an object to a short-eared rodent. The pose of the figures is similar to that of a rabbit and a ballplayer on an unprovenienced architectural flask in the collection of the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden and on two flasks in the Kislak Collection.4 There is a possible connection to a scene from the Popol Vuh in which a rabbit pretends to be a ball (Schele and Miller 1986:258, plate 103; Zender 2004). Scenes in which gods exchange iconic attributes with animals in return for food suggest a theme of tribute (Card and Zender 2016; Stone and Zender 2011:209, 229). Both narrow sides of the flask have the same two-column text impressed into them. The physical details of the two texts are nearly identical with some Modeled Miniature Flasks 2 31

minor differences due to variation in the use of the stamp. These texts dedicate the vessel using the Primary Standard Sequence more commonly found on painted vessels. The “step verb” from the PSS is present. The type of vessel as named here is unfortunately not translatable, though it is noteworthy that the morpheme SAK is part of this construction and may refer to either the white color of the flask or that it is “handmade, artificial” (Card and Zender 2016). Its stated owner was K’ahk’ Uti’ Witz’ K’awiil, the twelfth king in the Copan royal dynasty (Martin and Grube 2008:200–203; Stuart 2007). The k’uhul ajaw Copan emblem glyph is present on the flask as is another title associated with this ruler (Zender 2009). His reign, 628–95 CE, coincided with the consolidation of royal authority in the Copan Valley. This included the construction of a network of causeways in the Main Group and the erection of boundary stelae on hilltops on the edges of the valley (Newsome 2001:46, 58). Archaeologically, his reign marks the height of Copador ceramics, a polychrome ceramic type characterized by pseudoglyphic designs. This included the deposition of Copador vessels in royal ritual contexts (Bill 1997:12–13, 412; Fash et al. 2001:154; Fash and Stuart 1991:159–60; Newsome 2001:46). Epigraphic and sculptural evidence demonstrates that K’ahk’ Uti’ Witz’ K’awiil significantly reinforced and expanded the kingdom’s influence outside the Copan Valley into southeastern Guatemala, southern Belize, and, based on this flask, western El Salvador (Grube et al. 1999; Newsome 2001:47, 229n13; Prager 2013; Schele and Grube 1994:118). This vessel is one of only a few modeled miniature flasks to contain any portion of the PSS. It appears to be one of two known miniature flasks with an individual’s inscribed name, the other being an unprovenienced miniature vessel with a painted dedication for an individual named Ahk Mo’ (Turtle Macaw) (Houston et al. 2006:114, fig. 3.9a; Loughmiller-Cardinal and Zagorevski 2016, fig. 11). The inscription for Turtle Macaw contains no title, and the vessel’s owner has not been tied to any specific archaeological site or any other known text. By contrast, A1-2798 is dedicated to a well-known ajaw of Copan and contains two of his titles. The text on the Tazumal flask also appears to have been stamped, but its unique and personalized content suggests that it may have served as a specially commissioned vessel. As discussed below, one model for the flask may be the production of a handful of painted vessels given by high Maya lords—to whom the vessels were dedicated—to subordinate elites. The presence of this vessel, named for a lord known to be buried

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F IGURE 10 .2  Flask A1-2900, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Jeb J. Card.

at Copan, suggests a potentially unequal political relationship between Copan and Tazumal, probably in the later seventh century. FLASK A1-2900

Another flask found in a Late Classic mortuary context in Structure B1-1 is more typical of modeled flasks (figure 10.2). Boggs excavated MUNA Flask A1-2900 in 1944; as with A1-2798, its photograph has been published without analysis or provenience details (Bello-Suazo 2009:86; Fowler 1995:105).5 Flask A1-2900 was recovered from Tomb 2, Burial G, of Structure B1-1. Tomb 2 contained 10 graves placed in a cut made through several floors and into a white volcanic ash that was recorded by Boggs as 0.4–0.65 ft (approximately 12–20 cm) thick. This is presumably the Tierra Blanca Joven of the Early Classic, possibly dating to 536 CE. Boggs notes that the bottom of the ash deposit was marked by coarser gravels, suggesting that the tuff may be from the original context rather than having been transported for construction fill. The tomb is marked by architecture made of a mix of adobe and lajas, thin slate-like stones. It was partially plugged by Burial A, which was an individual interred in a large jar capped by a smaller jar and then covered by multiple layers of lajas. Tomb 2 was cut into the penultimate floor Boggs found in the structure. The tomb is located to the west of Structure 1E, under which Burial 20 and Flask A1-2798 were located. Boggs groups the burials of Tomb 2 into three basic units. Burial A, the jar Modeled Miniature Flasks 233

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

burial, sits above the others and is associated with Late Classic ceramics, including Copador vessels. Based on their spatial positions and contents, Boggs also groups the remaining burials, except for Burials I and J, as Late Classic. Many of these burials, including Burial G with Flask A1-2900, contained Copador vessels. Most of the burials and their contents lay on top of gray fibrous layers. In one case a checkerboard matting pattern survives in the fiber, suggesting that these thin layers were once textiles. A number of the burials were liberally covered with heavy powdered red pigment, probably cinnabar, and this substance also filled several of the vessels in the burials. There is some stratigraphy, with Burial C lying on top of Burial E, which is at the same level as Burial F. Burial G was located on the eastern exterior edge of the adobe-and-laja stacked architecture that surrounded the jar of Burial A. It sits near Burial E and nearly reaches the level below the ash that Boggs labels as Floor 5. Like some of the other burials, G was sprinkled with red pigment and was atop that layer of gray fiber. The fragmentary remains in Burial G were of a tightly flexed or folded adult with the head placed to the east (figure 10.3).6 The femoral heads lay just north of the skull, while the individual’s ribs were below the humeri. The individual was likely wearing some kind of jade collar or other jewelry since jadeite beads were found under the skeleton, especially under the skull. A copper tube was found near a round pyrite mirror. The mirror was propped at the back of the individual’s knees while the tube lay in front of the shins. Unfortunately, Boggs did not record the specific size or nature of the mirror, making it impossible to distinguish from a group of five mirror backs he photographed. Three ceramic vessels were associated with Burial G. Near the femoral heads of the individual lay a broken Copador bowl (labeled Pot 61 by Boggs and 44412-1-61 by the museum) constructed in the shape of a frog (figure 10.4). The composite silhouette vessel has a rim diameter of 7.6 cm, separated from the 8.7 cm diameter shoulder by a tall neck bearing pseudoglyphs.7 Fragments of another Copador vessel were found under Flask A1-2900. These sherds were part of a vessel labeled Pot 58 and could be refitted with another fragment of the vessel under Pot 71 in the lower Burial J.8 A full discussion of the richer Burial J is outside the scope of this chapter, but the burial does not contain other clear examples of Copador beyond the single sherd of Pot 58. Boggs’s notes at Tulane do not extrapolate further on this conundrum, though the simplest explanation would be that Pot 58, a composite silhouette Copador bowl with a rim diameter of 9.4 cm, had been part of Burial G, was shattered, and one of the fragments found its way farther down to Burial J.

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humerus

Pot #60

humerus

Pot #61

femur teeth

tibia

teeth

N copper tube

ribs pyrite mirror

skull Pot #62

50cm

F I G UR E 10 . 3  Tomb 2, Burial G, Structure B1-1, Tazumal, from notes of

Stanley Boggs. Courtesy of Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University.

The second vessel in Burial G is a globular miniature vessel or flask (Pot 62, 44-412-1-62) that was placed on the individual’s skull. The vessel is modeled and polished with an unslipped buff clay and a rim diameter of 2.6 cm and an approximate height of 4 cm.9 The paste, fluted modeling, and treatment are reminiscent of other Madrugada flasks despite the small globular body and the lack of any iconography or text. It was filled with a bright scarlet pigment. The Modeled Miniature Flasks 235

F I G UR E 10.4  Pots 61 (left) and 62 (right), from notes of

Stanley Boggs. Courtesy of Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University.

F I G UR E 10 .5  Texts of

Flask A1-2900, from notes of Stanley Boggs. Courtesy of Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University.

small globular Pot 62 of Burial G is reminiscent of a set of five similar vessels buried during the volcanic destruction of the Late Classic site of Joya de Ceren in the Zapotitan Valley in western El Salvador. Each of those small vessels has distinct modeled decoration and contains a distinct hue of red pigment. These were found in a domestic context, so their contents cannot be explained by a mortuary use, suggesting they were paint pots. Sheets (2006:73) suggests that rather than containing powdery pigment, these miniature vessels would have contained liquid paint, complicating any attempt to explain the presence of cinnabar in some larger modeled flasks in mortuary contexts. Flask A1-2900 (Pot 60, referred to as object 44-412-1-60 in Boggs’s notes) is a discoidal flask 7.2 cm in height, including a neck with a 2.9 cm rim diameter. The maximum width of the disc is 6.5 cm, while the minimum depth of the flat disc is 3.1 cm. The flask was located near the Copador Pot 61 and lay on top of fragments of the Copador Pot 58, as noted above, attesting to the Late Classic date for the burial and the flask. As already mentioned, it was full of scarlet pigment. The most striking element of this flask is that it bears a repetitive glyphic text (figure 10.5). Two glyph blocks repeat four times around a circle located in the center of each of the larger disc-shaped faces of the vessel. The textual ring is similar to those found on vessels in the Jay I. Kislak Collection, some of which irregularly add a third glyph block (Atkinson 2016a:fig. 2, 2016b). There is variation between the iterations of the glyphs on each side, but the overall design and its variations are identical on both sides and were produced with a stamp containing the entire face. Unlike A1-2798, the text on A1-2900 is commonly found on stamped or molded flasks, part of a pattern of stamped texts that has been recognized throughout the southeastern Maya region for more than a century (Gordon 1898:19–21, figs. 11–13). The short two-block construction cannot be clearly read as a whole, but the second half is recognizable as a phonetic spelling of ch’ok (youth), leading Zender and others to suggest that the phrase may read “Chehak, the Youth” (Card and Zender 2016). No other iconography appears on the vessel, and the narrow sides bear only modeled diagonal “barbershop” ridges inside a panel frame. FLASK A1-3363

The remaining flasks in the MUNA collection do not have firm archaeological proveniences, though in some cases they are attributed to localities. Modeled Miniature Flasks 2 37

F I G U R E 10.6  Flask A1-3363, Museo Nacional de Antropología.

Photo by Ana Claudia María Alfaro Moisa.

The architectural Flask A1-3363 was originally found during construction of a Texas Instruments plant in the Colonia Santa Lucia, Ilopango, San Salvador.10 The vessel was donated to MUNA along with Late Classic and Early Postclassic ceramics after the factory closed in the early 1980s (Jorge Rubio, pers. comm., 2016.). Flask A1-3363 is a rectangular tetrapod topped by a modeled splayed feline, presumably a jaguar, holding what may be a knotted cord. The entire vessel measures 7.1 cm in height, 7.3 cm in length, and 4.5 cm in width (figure 10.6). It fits into the modeled-carved brownware tradition that includes Madrugada Modeled-Carved, although the paste is somewhat darker brown than many of the other vessels of this type. One side of the vessel is fire-clouded. Like A1-2798, this architectural flask appears to have once been partially covered with stucco; there remain some fragments in red and yellow. The border between the top of the vessel and the paneled sides is marked by a segmented line like those on A1-2798 and A1-661. As mentioned above, the segmented line often indicates a curtained doorway or similar architecture. The markings of the line vary on the two larger sides of this tetrapodal vessel, suggesting that they were individually hand-carved. As in other examples of this form (Dunkelman 2007:13), the side panels present a figure holding vegetative material in an outstretched hand. However, instead of a tobacco leaf, the figure in A1-3363 may be holding a stalk of corn (Bello-Suazo 2009:87, 137; Fowler 1995:43). This figure is identical on both panels, suggesting that while

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the framing panel was hand-modeled, the flat panels were stamped with the same implement. F L A S K A 1 - 910

This miniature disc flask (5.6 cm tall, 4.3 cm wide) has a brown paste covered with a whitish wash. The modeled or stamped low-relief flat panels are difficult to discern but include what appears to be a grotesque-faced anthropomorphic or possibly zoomorphic (monkey) bipedal figure holding what may be a staff (figure 10.7). This same motif has been found on a flask excavated in Zacapa in southeastern Guatemala.11 The cylindrical neck and the rounded narrow sides of the vessel body are plain with the exception of a band of rectangular decoration in the slip at the vessel lip. There are traces of red paint inside the flask. The vessel was found near the Guatemalan border at Frontera Hachadura, not far from the site of Cara Sucia, and is listed with a date of 1984 in the MUNA records. The heavy looting of this site in the 1970s and 1980s spurred the first international agreement between the republic of El Salvador and the United States to stop the trafficking in El Salvadoran antiquities (Atwood 2004:90–91; Yates 2015). F L A S K A 1 - 6 61

Flask A1-661 is a rectangular architectural flask, typical of the Madrugada Modeled-Carved type. The neck and top of the vessel are broken off, meaning that the original height would have been taller than its current 8.6 cm (figure 10.8). FIGURE 10 .7  The grotesque figure on Flask A1-910, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Ana Claudia María Alfaro Moisa.

Modeled Miniature Flasks 239

F I G UR E 10 .8  Flask A1-661, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Jeb J. Card.

FIG U R E 10 .9  Flask A1-3216, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Ana Claudia María Alfaro Moisa.

The panels (5.4 cm wide) portray a cross-legged seated person wearing a feathered headdress, a beaded collar, and a loincloth and holding a paintbrush. The details of the repeated image on the two wide sides of the vessel suggest that, as with A1-3363, the same stamp was used to create the seated images. However, the architectural curtain motif of the segmented line was not stamped, suggesting that the vessel was not made in a full mold but through stamping or open molding combined with hand-modeling. The narrower side panels are plain. There are traces of red pigment on the interior and exterior of the flask. The vessel has been previously published (Fowler 1995:104), and without archaeological context there is little more information to provide. The records of the Colección Nacional de Arqueología note that it was acquired through excavation in the western department of Santa Ana, but it is also labeled as decommissioned and came to the museum in 1973 with no additional details. F L A S K A 1 - 3 216

Flask A1-3216 (D86-8A-1A-11) is a modeled discoidal miniature flask 7.1 cm tall by 6.5 cm wide (figure 10.9), created with far less effective detail than what is 24 0

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found on the other modeled flasks in MUNA. The narrow edges present a light brown paste and are modeled into two polished parallel channels or grooves, a motif found on other modeled discoidal flasks. These grooves join to create an irregular oval annular base. The clay attaching these grooves to the larger flat sides of the disc is irregularly hand-modeled. The flat wider sides are darker in color and, rather than being modeled in some relief, are nearly flat. They retain significant amounts of red pigment, as well as traces of white, in the very low relief in the design. The design on both wide sides of the disc consists of a cross-legged individual interacting with a large fish that swims or leaps in front of the figure. The anthropomorphic figure may initially appear to be kneeling since the bare foot with sole facing the viewer is difficult to discern due to the crude quality of the image. The surface on which the figure sits appears to be a chair or other type of nonlinear surface rather than a simple bench. The back of the “chair” rises behind the figure with undulating curves vaguely suggesting anthropomorphic profiles, reminiscent of the profiles chipped into eccentric flints (figure 10.10). The individual is holding something, but the nature of the object is difficult to discern. The fish is large but does not present any visible teeth, suggesting it is not a shark (Stone and Zender 2011:86–87).The main design on A1-3216, like a number of the other MUNA flasks, repeats on both sides. However, numerous details, including the placement of the fish fin, the number of lobes in the fin, a second fin only present on one of the two sides, the shape and placement of the vertebral spines of the fish, differences in the curve of the “chair” back, and other elements make it clear that this motif

F I G U R E 10.10  Comparison of

motifs on Flask A1-3216, Museo Nacional de Antropología. Photo by Jeb J. Card.

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was likely not stamped with the same device on both sides. The incredibly flat nature of the images also suggests that the technique used here was different than the one in the higher-relief Madrugada examples. Like A1-910, this vessel was decommissioned in the coastal area of Ahuachapan near the site of Cara Sucia, this time associated with Hacienda Nueva York, before entering MUNA. The date of this event appears to be January 14, 1986.12 FLASK A1-86

Unfortunately, no information survives in regard to the provenience or other history of Flask A1-86, a well-executed modeled flask in the Dirección de Arqueología in MUNA. This vessel is a good example of Madrugada Modeled-Carved, boasting a clearly defined portrait on the wide disc faces and a glyphic text on the narrow ends (figure 10.11). The same portrait design, likely from the same stamp or mold, is found on a vessel in the Kislak Collection and is probably similar to the design on a vessel illustrated by Gordon (1898). John B. Carlson (2007) describes the Kislak image as the supernatural “Patron of [the month] Pax,” tying this figure to God L and his personification of tobacco. The narrow sides of A1-86 present two columns of currently undeciphered glyph blocks beginning with ch’ok and using some of the same

FIG U R E 10.11  Flask A1-86, Museo Nacional de

Antropología. Photo by Jeb J. Card.

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glyphs commonly found on inscribed miniature flasks. The sequence repeats twice on each side, separated by a row of two glyph blocks in the midline of the panel. The sequence of glyphs is the same, and the repeated elements on a given side are identical between texts (though not within texts), suggesting that both sides were pressed with the same stamp or mold. DISCUSSION

The majority of modeled flasks in museums and publications lack provenience, making the two inscribed flasks from Tazumal particularly valuable scientifically. These two, found with elite burials, follow the pattern noted by Eppich and Loughmiller-Cardinal (2014 and this volume) that Madrugada Modeled-Carved flasks are primarily found in the southeastern Maya region in elite burial contexts. The presence of complicated iconography, the occasional use of texts, and the vessels’ presence primarily in Late Classic elite funerary contexts distinguish them from widespread trade goods or containers for trade goods. Copador polychromes are also found in elite burial contexts in this region during the Late Classic, though whether all or only some were made in the Copan Valley (Bishop and Beaudry 1994:425–26) is not certain. This type is named for its presence in Late Classic El Salvador and Copan, though it is also found in southeastern Guatemala (Alfaro Moisa 2013:24– 26). Unlike Madrugada Modeled-Carved flasks, Copador pottery was used in everyday contexts, including at the small, non-elite settlement of Joya de Ceren (Beaudry-Corbett 2002; Bill 1997:400; Hirth 1988:fig. 10; Alfaro Moisa 2013; Sheets 2006). Compared to Copador or other Copan-centric “Maya”-style ceramic vessels in the southeastern Maya zone, the flasks are more reminiscent of the distribution and nature of painted cylinder vessels elsewhere in the Maya region. Differing styles can be traced to specific workshops, such as the Naranjo vessels found in Buenavista del Cayo, Holmul, Tikal, and Uaxactun or the Codex-style vessels of the Mirador Basin found at a number of sites (Callaghan 2014:114–17, 120; Reents-Budet 1994:129–30; Stuart 1989:158). These vessels were likely exchanged between members of the nobility and, in at least some cases, mark the ties between dominant and subordinate political entities (Foias 2013:190–91, 200–201; Houston et al. 1992; Reents-Budet 1994:300–305; Taschek and Ball 1992). The placement of Tomb 2, Burial G, and Burial 20 in the main structure at Tazumal suggests that these may be elite burials. Yet the contents of these Modeled Miniature Flasks 24 3

burials are by no means the richest artifacts among the burials uncovered by Boggs’s excavations. Burial G had a pyrite mirror, a copper tube, and a few other vessels. Burial 20 had a handful of carved jade plaques and no additional ceramic vessels. Other burials even in Tomb 2 had substantial jade jewelry, carved groundstone sculptures, numerous vessels, and other goods. The broader context of the southeastern Maya borderlands may explain why the flasks and other “Maya” physical or stylistic imports display a Copan-centric influence and affiliation (Beaudry-Corbett 2002:124–26; Bruhns 1996:290–91). However, the personal and royal nature of A1-2798 suggests a potential political relationship between Tazumal and Copan. One possibility may be that, as in the Naranjo case, this relationship may have followed a military confrontation and could have been decidedly unequal in Copan’s favor (Card and Zender 2016). Eppich and Loughmiller-Cardinal (2014) suggest that tobacco may have been gifted socially. This may well be the case. The flasks and their contents are one of several kinds of prestige goods presumably traded between Copan and points to the south. A single eccentric flint similar to those found at Copan was found in Structure 7 of Campana San Andrés in 1977 by Jorge Mejía Rivas (Bello-Suazo 2009:84, 136; Cobos 1994:35–36) along with stingray spines, Spondylus shells, and Copador and Petén-style pottery (Alfaro Moisa 2013:62–63). The text and iconography of Tazumal Flask A1-2798 are unique in actually naming the dominant political figure but may simply be a more explicit and elaborated example of the broader use of these flasks. The less well-made flasks or those with more formulaic texts or pseudoglyphs may mirror the less well-made polychromes of the Petén, which can contain repetitive or pseudoglyphic texts and were likely destined for the lesser nobility or commoners (Reents-Budet 1994:96–99, 140, 179–84). The stamped creation of the flasks and their mostly repetitive texts, both suggestive of mass production, have generally led to their being considered not an exotic prestige good of the same order as painted cylinder vessels. As noted above, some cylinders had pseudoglyphic texts, and not all were equally finely made. Further, the stamped flasks should not be inherently taken as mass-produced. The texts on many of the vessels are similar, often simple constructions with repeating elements, including the chehak ch’ok construction. Yet these texts are not identical in form or content. There is some evidence for the reuse of stamps in nonsensical ways, such as the text on an architectural flask in the Kislak Collection that includes partially cutoff glyphs (Atkinson 2016a, b; Loughmiller-Cardinal 2011). On the other hand, there is a precedent

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for formulaic phrases on other inscribed Maya objects: the Primary Standard Sequence. The formulaic nature of the PSS was obvious long before its basic function was understood or its phonetic meaning known (Coe 1992:224–25). The initial sequence on Classic Maya stelae, not just the Long Count and Calendar Round, but the subsequent lunar cycle, Lords of the Night, and other elements, is obviously far more complex than the PSS, but it is also extremely formulaic, as are the distance numbers that structure many monumental texts. Some flasks certainly seem to have been made with the same stamps. In particular, the seated pair of the deities K’awiil and God L is found on numerous discoidal flasks in the Kislak Collection (Atkinson 2016b; Dunkelman 2007:11; Loughmiller-Cardinal 2011) and elsewhere, including an example from Ahuachapan in El Salvador (Demarest 1988:fig. 19), though there are differing versions of this motif.13 Other flasks suggest that while most of the decorated flasks were stamped or partially molded, mass production may not have been the only reason for this construction method. Flask A1-2798 has iconography seen on some other architectural flasks and on some painted vessels, but it is distinct in the details. The text is completely unique and shares no elements with other known stamped flasks. Yet the text was made with a stamp since the texts on the two sides of A1-2798 are identical. Of course, it is possible that a handful of other flasks were made with this personalized text for K’ahk’ Uti’ Witz’ K’awiil and have not been recovered. The lack of other known examples suggests that either A1-2798 is unique or it had at most a few twins; perhaps a stamp was carved to replicate a text one time or, at most, a handful of times. That is not mass production. Regarding mass production, there are indeed hundreds of known flasks, and the Kislak Collection boasts 172. By comparison, at the time of this writing, the Kerr database of rolled-out cylinder vases and painted plates has 1,935 entries (http://www.mayavase.com). Of these, 1,540 are polychrome, blackand-white painted/inscribed, or Codex-style vessels. Few would claim that painted polychrome vessels were mass-produced, but they may have actually been less costly in time and labor to produce than some modeled ceramics (Werness 2003:3–4). We do not argue that the iconography or texts on the stamped flasks approaches the rich complexity of many of the painted vessels. But pseudoglyphic texts and simple iconography can be found on some of the more commonly produced painted wares, especially in the southeastern region’s Copador and other creamware ceramics. Researchers should take care not to analytically privilege painted objects, mirroring the greater social value Modeled Miniature Flasks 24 5

of painting over sculpture in later “textual” societies and into the modern period (Pasztory 2005:75–82). Although not shared between the vessels, the identical panels on A1-3363 and on A1-661 also point to stamping, but the segmented lines delineating these panels differ within each architectural vessel. The most likely explanation is that the vessels were produced as slabs, stamped with either a flat stamp or an open mold, and then joined together. Motifs at unusual angles and even upside-down in the Kislak Collection suggest a flat stamp rather than an open mold (Atkinson 2016b; Loughmiller-Cardinal 2011). The same apparent design appears on an architectural flask in the Kislak Collection (Dunkelman 2007:12) and on a tetrapodal jaguar flask similar to A1-3363 but from a finca on the northern slope of the Santa Ana volcano in El Salvador.14 The identical panel with different bodies suggests the use of a stamp rather than a half- or whole-vessel mold. Furthermore, similar motifs to those of A1-3363 are found on other architectural flasks, but unlike some of the K’awiil and God L discs, they are not identical (compare A1-3363 with Dunkelman 2007:12). The same holds for A12900 and the aforementioned “ring text” discoidal flask in the Kislak Collection, and for A1-2798 and the rabbit and ballplayer examples discussed above. A somewhat limited set of motifs appears frequently on molded and stamped flasks, but with the exception of the K’awiil and God L scene, this does not appear to be indicative of mass production. The crudely made A1-3216 presents an even more unusual problem: there are distinct differences on the two sides of the flask presenting the same iconography. The design of the fish, its spine, its fins, and the ill-defined shapes behind the seated figure suggest that the two versions of this flat, pressed scene were not made with the same stamp. The unusual and crude nature of the vessel perhaps calls into question whether it was stamped at all, though the flattened finish of the scenes suggests it was. If stamps were not employed for only mass production, how should we interpret their use? Clemency Coggins (1988:113) notes that while pseudoglyphs appear on painted polychromes, such as Copador and Ulua, and on various modeled brown and black ceramic types, full inscriptions are only found at Copan on monochrome incised, carved, or modeled ceramics. Modeled ceramics are found throughout the Maya region, but modeled ceramics and similar complexly sculpted unpainted objects, such as Ulua marbles, seem to have had particular cultural currency in the southeastern Maya region and

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northern Central America. This may be due to an ideologically driven aesthetic preference for white stone, or effigies of white stone, in Honduras (Hendon et. al 2014:108–11; Luke 2012). Perhaps even closer to the situation of the stamped flasks, Hendon and colleagues (2014:90–92) point out that specific images recur in western Honduran molded figurines, but minute differences suggest that molds were not used for mass production. These authors instead suggest that molds may have been produced by skilled artisans and then used by nonskilled carvers to make only one or a handful of vessels. Limited reuse of molds may have been generally the case among Classic Maya potters (Werness 2003:3–4). Molds may have been in many cases destroyed during figurine firing, and some figurines and other molded ceramics were constructed from molded slabs (Hendon et al. 2014:15–16). These authors suggest that the creation of figurines, particularly marriage figurines, had more to do with community ritual than with economic value as a trade or prestige good. The stamps and molds used to fabricate figurines were for quality control rather than quantity expansion. The distribution of stamped flasks in elite tombs suggests that the community ritual model is not a close fit, but Hendon and colleagues’ analysis of molding as something other than evidence for mass production helps point the way to understanding some of the decisions taken in creating miniature modeled flasks. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We would like to thank Will Andrews not only for supporting this research, but for working, along with Kathryn Sampeck, to preserve the original Tazumal excavation notes made by Stanley Boggs. Marcello Canuto and the Middle American Research Institute provided access and support in our work with the Boggs archive. We would also like to thank the Departamentos of Arqueología and Registro de Bienes Culturales, the Museo Nacional, and the Secretaría de Cultura de la Presidencia de la Republica de El Salvador for their aid and support. REFERENCES CITED Alfaro Moisa, Ana Claudia María 2013 Análisis de la cerámica copador procedente de cuatro sitios arqueológicos de la fase Payu del occidente y centro de El Salvador: Tazumal, Joya

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de Ceren, San Andrés y Madreselva. Master’s thesis, Department of Archaeology, Universidad Tecnológica de El Salvador. Andrews, E. Wyllys, V. 1976 The Archaeology of Quelepa, El Salvador. New Orleans, LA: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Atkinson, Graham 2016a Name Your Poison: Glyphic Designs on Maya Miniature Flasks in the Jay I. Kislak Collection. Worlds Revealed: Geography and Maps at the Library of Congress, January 27. https://blogs.loc.gov/maps/2016/01/name-your -poison-glyphic-designs-on-maya-miniature-flasks-in-the-jay-i-kislak -collection. 2016b Maya Miniature Medallion Flasks: A Comparison of Some of the Glyphic Designs. Unpublished paper. https://www.academia.edu/20268132/Maya _Miniature_Medallion_Flasks_a_comparison_of_some_of_the_glyphic _designs. Atwood, Roger 2004 Stealing History: Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World. New York: St. Martin’s. Beaudry-Corbett, Marilyn, with Ronald L. Bishop 2002 Ceramics and Their Use at Cerén. In Before the Volcano Erupted: The Ancient Cerén Village in Central America, ed. Payson Sheets, 117–38. Austin: University of Texas Press. Bello-Suazo, Gregorio 2009 Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán, El Salvador. San Salvador: FUNDEMAS. Bill, Cassandra R. 1997 Patterns of Variation and Change in Dynastic Period Ceramics and Ceramic Production at Copán, Honduras. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Tulane University. Bishop, Ronald L., and Marilyn P. Beaudry 1994 Chemical Compositional Analysis of Southeastern Maya Ceramics. In Ceramics and Artifacts from Excavations in the Copan Residential Zone by Gordon R. Willey et al., 407–33. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Boggs, Stanley H. 1943 Observaciones respecto a la importancia de Tazumal en la prehistoria salvadoreña. Tzunpame 3(1):127–33. 1944 Excavations in Central and Western El Salvador. In Archaeological Investigations in El Salvador, ed. John M. Longyear III, 51–72. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. 24 8

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1962 Excavations of Tazumal, El Salvador. Year Book of the American Philosophical Society 1962:488–91. Bruhns, Karen Olsen 1996 El Salvador and the Southeastern Frontier of Mesoamerica. In Paths to Central American Prehistory, ed. Frederick W. Lange, 285–96. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Callaghan, Michael G. 2014 Maya Polychrome Vessels as Inalienable Possessions. In The Inalienable in the Archaeology of Mesoamerica, ed. Brigitte Kovacevich and Michael G. Callaghan, 112–27. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Canuto, Marcello, and Ellen E. Bell 2008 The Ties That Bind: Administrative Strategies in the El Paraíso Valley, Department of Copan, Honduras. Mexicon 30(1):10–20. Card, Jeb J., and Marc Zender 2016 A Seventh-Century Inscribed Miniature Flask from Copan found at Tazumal, El Salvador. Ancient Mesoamerica 27(2):279–92. Carlson, John B. 2007 Four Medallion Canteen Miniature Flasks. In The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress: A Catalog of the Gift of the Jay I. Kislak Foundation to the Library of Congress, ed. Arthur Dunkelman, 11. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Cobos, Rafael 1994 Síntesis de la arqueología de El Salvador (1850–1991). San Salvador: CONCULTURA. Coe, Michael D. 1992 Breaking the Maya Code. London: Thames and Hudson. Coggins, Clemency Chase 1988 On the Historical Significance of Decorated Ceramics at Copan and Quirigua and Related Classic Maya Sites. In The Southeast Classic Maya Zone: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks, 6th and 7th October 1984, ed. Elizabeth Hill Boone and Gordon R. Willey, 95–123. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Demarest, Arthur A. 1988 Political Evolution in the Maya Borderlands: The Salvadoran Frontier. In The Southeast Classic Maya Zone: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks, 6th and 7th October 1984, ed. Elizabeth Hill Boone and Gordon R. Willey, 335–94. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Dunkelman, Arthur, ed. 2007 The Jay I. Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress: A Catalog of the Gift Modeled Miniature Flasks 24 9

of the Jay I. Kislak Foundation to the Library of Congress. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Eppich, Keith, and Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Cardinal 2014 Breath and Smoke: Tobacco among the Maya. Paper presented at the Society for American Archaeology Annual Meeting, Austin, TX, April 25. https://www.academia.edu/7116682/Breath_and_Smoke_Tobacco_among _the_Maya. Fash, William L., et al. 2001 The Trappings of Kingship among the Classic Maya: Ritual and Identity in a Royal Tomb from Copán. In Fleeting Identities: Perishable Material Culture in Archaeological Research, ed. Penelope Ballard Drooker, 152–69. Carbondale: Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University. Fash, William L., and David S. Stuart 1991 Dynastic History and Cultural Evolution at Copan, Honduras. In Classic Maya Political History: Hieroglyphic and Archaeological Evidence, ed. T. Patrick Culbert, 147–79. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Finamore, Daniel, and Stephen D. Houston, eds. 2010 Fiery Pool: The Maya and the Mythic Sea. New Haven, CT: Peabody Essex Museum, in association with Yale University Press. Foias, Antonia E. 2013 Ancient Maya Political Dynamics. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Fowler, William R., Jr. 1995 El Salvador: Antiguas civilizaciones. San Salvador: Banco Agrícola Comercial de El Salvador. Gordon, George Byron 1898 Researches in the Uloa Valley: Report on Explorations by the Museum 1896–97. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Grube, Nikolai, Barbara MacLeod, and Phil Wanyerka 1999 A Commentary on the Hieroglyphic Inscriptions of Nim Li Punit, Belize. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Hendon, Julia 1987 The Uses of Maya Structures: A Study of Architecture and Artifact Distribution at Sepulturas, Copan, Honduras. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Harvard University. Hendon, Julia A., Rosemary A. Joyce, and Jeanne Lopiparo 2014 Material Relations: The Marriage Figurines of Prehispanic Honduras. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Hirth, Kenneth G. 1988 Beyond the Maya Frontier: Cultural Interaction and Syncretism along 250

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the Central Honduran Corridor. In The Southeast Classic Maya Zone: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks, 6th and 7th October 1984, ed. Elizabeth Hill Boone and Gordon R. Willey, 297–334. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Houston, Stephen D., David Stuart, and Karl Taube 1992 Image and Text on the “Jauncy Vase.” In The Maya Vase Book, vol. 3, ed. Barbara and Justin Kerr, 504–23. New York: Kerr Associates. 2006 The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya. Austin: University of Texas Press. Longyear, John M., III, with an appendix by Stanley H. Boggs 1944 Archaeological Investigations in El Salvador. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer A. 2011 Construction, Production, and Function of Classic Maya Flasks. Paper presented at the 76th Annual Meeting of the Society for American Archaeology, March 30–April 3, Sacramento, CA. Loughmiller-Cardinal, Jennifer A., and Dimitri Zagorevski 2016 Mayan Flasks: The “Home” of Tobacco and Godly Substances. Ancient Mesoamerica 27(1):1–11. Luke, Christina 2012 Materiality and Sacred Landscapes: Ulúa Style Marble Vases in Honduras. In Beyond Belief: The Archaeology of Ritual and Religion, ed. Yorke M. Rowan, 114–29. Arlington, VA: American Anthropological Association. Martin, Simon, and Nikolai Grube 2008 Chronicle of the Maya Kings and Queens: Deciphering the Dynasties of the Ancient Maya. 2nd ed. London: Thames and Hudson. Newsome, Elizabeth A. 2001 Trees of Paradise and Pillars of the World: The Serial Stela Cycle of “18-Rabbit-God K,” King of Copan. Austin: University of Texas Press. Pasztory, Esther 2005 Thinking with Things: Toward a New Vision of Art. Austin: University of Texas Press. Prager, Christian M. 2013 A Study of the Classic Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions of Pusilha, Toledo District, Belize. Indiana 30:247–82. Reents-Budet, Dorie 1994 Painting the Maya Universe: Royal Ceramics of the Classic Period. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Schele, Linda, and Nikolai Grube 1994 Tlaloc-Venus Warfare: The Peten Wars, 8.17.0.0.0–9.15.13.0.0. In Notebook Modeled Miniature Flasks 2 51

for the 18th Maya Hieroglyphic Workshop, March 12–13. Austin: Department of Art and Art History, University of Texas. Schele, Linda, and Mary Ellen Miller 1986 The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art. Fort Worth, TX: Kimbell Art Museum. Sharer, Robert J. 1978 Pottery and Conclusions, vol. 3 of The Prehistory of Chalchuapa, El Salvador, ed. Robert J. Sharer. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Sheets, Payson 2006 The Ceren Site: An Ancient Village Buried by Volcanic Ash in Central America. 2nd ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Starrat, Harold E. 2001 Excavations in El Cementerio, Group 10L-2, Copán, Honduras. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Tulane University. Stone, Andrea, and Marc Zender 2011 Reading Maya Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Maya Painting and Sculpture. London: Thames and Hudson. Strömsvik, Gustav 1942 Substela Caches and Stela Foundations at Copan and Quirigua. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Stuart, David 1989 Hieroglyphs on Maya Vessels. In The Maya Vase Book, vol. 1, ed. Justin Kerr, 149–60. New York: Kerr Associates. 2007 Reading the Water Serpent as WITZ’. Maya Decipherment, April 13. https:// decipherment.wordpress.com/2007/04/13/reading-the-water-serpent. Taschek, Jennifer T., and Joseph W. Ball 1992 Lord Smoke-Squirrel’s Cacao Cup: The Archaeological Context and Sociohistorical Significance of the Buenavista “Jauncy Vase.” In The Maya Vase Book, vol. 3, ed. Barbara Kerr and Justin Kerr, 490–503. New York: Kerr Associates. Werness, Maline Diane 2003 Pabellon Molded-Carved Ceramics: A Consideration in Light of the Terminal Classic Collapse of Classic Maya Civilization. Master’s thesis, University of Texas, Austin. Willey, Gordon R., et al. 1994 Ceramics and Artifacts from Excavations in the Copan Residential Zone. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University.

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Yates, Donna 2015 Cara Sucia. Trafficking Culture, April 8, http://traffickingculture.org/ encyclopedia/case-studies/cara-sucia. Zagorevski, Dmitri V., and Jennifer A. Loughmiller-Newman 2012 The Detection of Nicotine in a Late Mayan Period Flask by Gas Chromatography and Liquid Chromatography Mass Spectrometry Methods. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry 26:403–11. Zender, Marc 2004 Glyphs for “Handspan” and “Strike” in Classic Maya Ballgame Texts. PARI Journal 4(4):1–9. 2009 Report on the New Peccary Skull Glyphs. FYI Friday, February 13. Newsletter of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.

NOTES 1. See the Peabody Museum online collection, object 95-42-20/C635, http://pmem .unix.fas.harvard.edu:8080/peabody. 2. This flask can be viewed in the British Museum’s online catalog, http:// www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details. aspx?objectId=477093&partId=1&searchText=guatemala+ceramic&page=1. 3. Boggs 1962 does not discuss this flask, but evidence for its provenience includes catalog no. 52-412T-1-12, a drawing made of A1-2798 and entered into the museum in 1983, and Boggs’s notes at the Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. 4. The same scene can be observed on flasks in the Kislak Collection at the Library of Congress (K6272) and in a private collection in the United States (K6961). Images of all three vessels can be found at http://research.mayavase.com/kerrportfolio.html. 5. Harvard University provides several online images of this flask: http://id.lib .harvard.edu/via/pea557738/catalog and http://id.lib.harvard.edu/via/pea521178 /catalog. 6. This image is also available online in the Peabody archives, http://id.lib.harvard .edu/via/pea521145/catalog. 7. This vessel is on display at MUNA, and an image is available online in the Peabody archives, http://id.lib.harvard.edu/via/pea521157/catalog. 8. An image of this vessel is available online in the Peabody archives, http://id.lib .harvard.edu/via/pea521669/catalog. 9. An image is available online in the Peabody archives, http://id.lib.harvard.edu /via/pea521169/catalog.

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10. Information derived from notes of Jorge Rubio (pers. comm., 1986) of Colección Nacional de Arqueología, Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán. 11. Available in the Peabody archive as object 583420/61453, http://id.lib.harvard .edu/via/pea544734/catalog. 12. Information derived from notes of Jorge Rubio (pers. comm., 1986) of Colección Nacional de Arqueología, Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán. 13. While there are a number of flasks with this motif that appear to be made with the same stamp, the image differs on others. Compare the K’awiil and God L motif flasks in Atkinson 2016b or Dunkelman 2007 with a different version of the motif on a British Museum flask. http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online /collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=477093&partId=1&searchText=guatemala +ceramic&page=1. 14. An image of this vessel is available online in the Peabody archives, object 5834-20/39799.3, http://id.lib.harvard.edu/via/pea557900/catalog.

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CONTRIBUTORS

A N A C L AU D I A MAR Í A AL FARO M O I S A completed her graduate degree in ar-

chaeology at the Technological University of El Salvador. She currently works in the Department of Registration of Cultural Property in the Collections Control Unit associated with El Salvador’s Presidential Secretary of Culture and the National Museum of Anthropology. She is in charge of creating and assembling the museum’s Ceramoteca (a comparative archaeological ceramics collection) and publishes on the topic of illicit trafficking in cultural property. ERI K BOOT is an anthropologist with a PhD from the University of Leiden,

Netherlands. His main interests are Maya epigraphy, iconography, and cultural history. He is the author of The Updated Preliminary Classic Maya-English, English-Classic Maya Vocabulary of Hieroglyphic Readings, Continuity and Change in Text and Image at Chichén Itzá, Yucatán, Mexico: A Study of the Inscriptions, Iconography, and Architecture at a Late Classic to Early Postclassic Maya Site, and numerous book chapters and articles in scholarly journals. Most recently, he compiled and updated the online Classic Maya Hieroglyphic Vocabulary Database. JEB J. CARD completed his dissertation research at Tulane University in 2007

on the analysis of ceramics from Ciudad Vieja, El Salvador. He organized a conference in 2009 at Southern Illinois University’s Center for Archaeological Investigations around the topic of hybrid material culture and edited the follow-up volume, which was released in 2013. Since 2011 Card has been a visiting assistant professor at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. He has coedited a volume on archaeological responses to pseudoscience, Lost City, Found Pyramid: Understanding Alternative Archaeologies and Pseudoscience Practices, and is the author of a volume on the “spooky” side of public engagement with archaeology. KEITH EPPICH joined his first archaeological project at the age of eight in Bedico Creek, Louisiana. Since then, he has excavated Tchefuncte shell mounds, Pleistocene bone beds, antebellum plantations, California missions, Chumash campsites, and ancient Maya cities. He holds degrees from Louisiana State University and San Diego State University; his PhD is from Southern Methodist

University. He studies Classic Maya ceramic arts, Native American urbanism, and the Mesoamerican economy. He is the author of Lineage and State at El Perú-Waka’: Ceramics and the Social History of the Classic Maya City-State. K E V I N P. GROAR K , PhD, is a medical and psychological anthropologist with an extensive background in medical ethnobiology. He has worked with Tzotziland Tzeltal-speaking Maya in Highland Chiapas since 1991, focusing on household-level medical practices, illness diagnosis, ethnopsychology, and associated shamanic therapies. He is currently a lecturer in anthropology at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia. K E R RY HU L L was born and reared in Honolulu, Hawai’i. He holds degrees

from Utah State University and Georgetown University; his PhD is from the University of Texas, Austin. Hull’s academic interests include Maya linguistics and anthropology, Polynesian linguistics, historical linguistics, sociolinguistics, and Maya epigraphic studies. He has conducted fieldwork in Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras. He is currently a professor in the Department of Religion at Brigham Young University. JE N N I FE R A . LO U G HM I L L E R- CAR D I NAL earned a PhD from the University

at Albany, New York, in 2012 and an MS in chemistry in 2018. She is currently working on a PhD in analytical chemistry at the same university. Her research focuses on ritual foods, food residues, pottery, language, iconography, and art. She is currently a member of the Raman Forensics laboratory, where she is continuing her work with residue analyses for a number of projects in Mesoamerica. MI C HA E L MC B R I D E is a pharmacist and pharmacologist whose professional

focus has been providing specialty pharmacy services to people living with HIV/AIDS and hepatitis C and after organ transplant. Since 1995, he has been an independent researcher of the pharmacology and ethnopharmacology of psychoactive agents found in ancient Mesoamerican cultures. His pharmacy degree is from the University of Texas, Austin, and he received his doctor of pharmacy certification from the Louisiana Board of Pharmacy. OLIVIA NAVARRO-FARR is an assistant professor of anthropology and archae-

ology at the College of Wooster in Wooster, Ohio. She completed her doctorate

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at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. Her publications include chapters in Rituals of the Past: The Use and Perception of Abandoned Structures in the Lowland Maya Area and Archaeology at El Perú-Waka’: Ancient Maya Performances of Ritual, Memory, and Power. Her research interests include the Late Terminal transition in the southern Maya lowlands, the archaeology of ritual, and the nexus of ancient state formation, collapse, and transformation. MA RT I N PI C K A N D S is a retired principal investigator with the Cultural Re-

sources Survey Program at the New York State Museum in Albany. He has worked on numerous archaeological projects throughout the state of New York. Pickands began his research in the Mayan regions in the mid-1970s with a concentration on modern ritual practices in comparison with ethnohistorical documentation and Classic period artwork. His current research involves correlating modern folklore with ethnohistoric documents with the goal of evaluating Classic Maya myths.

Contributors 2 57

INDEX

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-01 19:27 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

animals related to tobacco: deer, 26, 30–31, 35, 162–68, 180, 191–93; hummingbird, 33–49, 52, 80–82, 92; jaguar, 43, 50, 81, 164–65; rabbit, 25, 33, 46, 170, 231, 246, 251 balche, 33, 36–38; ancient Mayan god of balche, Bor or Bol (Lacandon god of balche), 38 beverage preparation, 33–36, 39, 46–48, 188, 193, 195 biochemical: acetylcholine (ACh), 106–11; psychoactive substances, 12, 38, 94–97, 101, 103–11, 113–17, 186, 207, 219, 256; central nervous system (CNS), 106–111; hallucinogen(ic) list, 109; serotonin neuroreceptor system, 104, 106–7, 109–10; receptors, 11, 94, 106–11; exogenous agents, 93, 106–7, 116; endogenous neurotransmitters, 94, 106–7, 110, 116; nicotinic cholinergic receptors, 84, 88, 107–11, 119; ventral tegmental area (VTA), 107–8; prefrontal cortex (PFC), 107–8; serotonin, 104, 106–11; lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), 106–11 body parts: head, 4, 9, 23–24, 37, 41–46, 59, 687, 70, 71–72, 80–81, 91, 113, 117, 131, 156, 178–80, 131, 134; deer head, 166–68, 178–80; monkey head, 178–79; god head, 167–68; heart, 28, 90, 108, 113, 164; foot, 24, 27, 99, 131, 155, 164–65, 169–70, 173, 241; arm, 41, 143–45; hand, 25–28, 37, 75, 142, 144, 150, 166, 170, 173; skull, 36, 53, 167, 235; bone, 41, 62–63, 67, 137, 139, 140–41,

155, 167, 179, 192, 255; skin, 6, 35, 49, 117, 155 Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel, 40, 52, 167, 174 bone, Mayan glyph, BAK, 163, 167–168, 179; baak, 137, 163, 167–168 calabash, 9, 22–25, 30–31 ceremony (ceremonial) bone use, 16, 74–76, 101, 140, 195; Copan, hieroglyphic text, 137; smoking bones, 137–39; China, 140; Navajo, 140; Yanoama, 140; Gabrieliño and Luiseño (California), 140; Tarairius (Brazil), 140 cigarette and tobacco products: cigarettes, 2, 5–6, 14, 69, 83, 85, 134, 154– 55; cigar, 2–7, 10–16, 83, 85, 128–39, 154–55, 193–94, 215, 217; chew, 1–13, 26, 55–58, 60–72, 79, 83, 90, 128–32, 153–55, 160–61, 205; snuff, 1, 6, 10–11, 15–16, 26, 39, 46, 54–69, 74–17, 80–84, 90, 92, 120, 162, 186, 197, 203–19 Codex-style writing and vessel, 63, 76, 11, 150, 158–60, 165, 170, 207–8, 230, 243–45 codices: Madrid, 127, 166–68; Dresden, 127, 166–68, 171–74; Florentine, 143–45 containers ancient Mayan tobacco: flask, 8, 14–16, 21, 63, 157–59, 177–78, 181–91, 202, 207–15, 226–53; gourd, 5–6, 36, 39, 44, 46, 61–64, 72, 77–81, 91–92, 160–62, 191, 208; ’otoot, 13, 63, 157–59, 169–70, 179, 189, 206–7, 230; Poison bottle, 63, 178, 206, 227; snuff bottle, 15, 203–11, 219

corn, 6, 9, 23–30, 74, 86, 128, 130, 135, 151–56, 164, 194, 238; maize, 8, 17, 24–35, 126, 144, 188, 192–96 cooking, 38, 46–48, 74, 187, 202 dwarf, 15, 50, 147, 204, 219–20, 224–25, 231 enema, 63–64, 85, 108, 113, 120, 122, 188, 192, 196–97 gods, Mayan: Chaac, 35, 48–49, 76–79; Chaak, 114; god of the “Earth” (general), 10–11, 34, 42, 49–50, 69, 72–73, 78, 91, 192; God K, 6, 43, 46, 49, 77–78, 189, 211, 213–16, 251; God L, 6, 10, 18, 43–44, 48, 52, 77–78, 82, 87, 189, 192–93, 211, 215–20, 223, 230, 242, 245–46, 254; Hun Hunahpu, 10, 36, 42; Itzamnah, 168–169; Maize God, 10, 45, 170, 192; Sun god (general), 32 honey, 10, 33, 36–38, 41, 61 hunter, 99–101, 165, 168 lightning, 35–38, 43–53, 69–71, 77–79, 89; and thunder (thunderbolt), 46, 77–79 man, related to tobacco mythology: father, 25, 33–36, 41–46, 50, 56–59, 63, 69, 79, 81–82, 128, 155; husband, 9, 23–25, 27–30, 48, 204, 219; son, 41–42; T’actani, 33–36 Mayan languages and groups: Cakchiquel, 33–34, 160; Ch’ol 33, 171– 73; Ch’olti’, 171–73; Ch’orti’ 12, 126–56; K’ekchi’, 10, 14, 32–34, 39, 82; Itza (j), 34, 164, 179; Lacandones, 6, 10, 34, 38–42, 46, 51–53, 94, 134, 152–53, 164;

260

Mopan, 10, 32–34, 81, 134, 153, 155, 171; Pipil, 8–9, 22–31;Quiché, 7, 34–36, 42, 50, 88, 177, 208; Tzeltal, 5–6, 10–11, 19, 54–58, 63–66, 75–84, 89–91, 160–62, 179; Tzotzil, 6, 10–11, 19, 42, 45, 51, 54–69, 77–84, 89–90, 155, 160–62 medicinal treatment of: boils, 68; blood, 36, 41, 68, 108–14; bone breaks and sprains, 67; catarrhal infections, 131; flea bite, 131; gangrene, 68; mange, 68; snake bite, 71, 131; stomach (abdominal pain), 67, 90–91; swelling, 56, 65–67, 129; tuberculosis, 68 medicine, 4–11, 18–20, 31, 33, 49–51, 64–69, 77, 82–86, 91, 147–51, 153, 161, 189, 201, 217, 219; poison, 2, 12, 15, 20, 33, 39, 49–50, 108, 140–41, 155–56; sickness, 11, 20, 49–50, 59, 65–68, 71–73, 77, 90, 98, 131 medicine, tobacco as medicinal use: curing (cure), 2, 6–7, 9, 11–12, 16, 19–20, 23, 33, 50, 56, 59–61, 65–77, 83, 92–93, 128–33, 141, 144–45, 147, 153–56, 218–19; ethnomedicine, 64, 66–71, 130–32 menstruation, 33 Mesoamerica ancient locations, cities, communities: Calakmul, 3, 6, 157–60, 165, 170, 181, 194, 204–7, 213, 219; Chichen Itza, 3, 113, 168, 179–80, 192; Copan, 15–17, 126, 137–38, 143, 155, 165–66, 188–91, 199, 206, 214–20, 227–33, 243–52; El Perú-Waka, 15, 169, 170, 194, 204–14; Motul de San José, 209, 225; Oxkintok, 13, 159, 173, 180; Palenque, 3, 43, 45, 77, 82, 163–68, 177–78, 180; Puuc region, 159; Quirigua, 221, 228, 249, 252; Teotihuacan, 95, 113, 192, 197, 199, 204;

Index

Tikal, 3, 16, 168–70, 194, 213–14, 221, 226, 243; Tortuguero, 163, 169–70; Uxmal, 171–72; Xochicalco, 192 Mesoamerica modern locations, cities, and communities: Chamula, 45, 51, 56–60, 62, 68–84, 91–92, 155, 162; Chiapas, 5, 10, 19, 36, 51–55, 65, 82–84, 89, 94, 155, 161–64; El Salvador, 8, 15, 22, 25, 227–29, 232, 239, 243, 245; Olopa and La Union municipios, 126; Oxchuc, 68, 75–76, 91; Tenejapa, 55– 56, 63, 66, 76, 80–81, 89, 91, 160–62; Zinacantán highlights, 66, 80 migration, 94–100, 111, 115, 118 Moon, 10, 25, 28–38, 42–50, 57, 81–82; goddess, 9–10, 25, 32–50, 53

203, 208, 223; Eurasia, 11, 30, 94–105, 115–21, 125 Paleolithic, 99–102, 115 Penobscot, 9, 26, 30 pipe, 4, 24, 91, 129–30, 134, 136–37, 153, 200; tobaco (tavaco), 4, 154, 160–61 Popol Vuh, 7, 18, 21, 36, 42, 53, 81, 82, 201, 220, 226, 231 residues: alkaloid, 2–7, 18, 20, 63–64, 109, 157, 185; ancient, 6, 8, 14, 182–87, 191–96, 203, 207, 228

New World, 1, 5, 11, 51, 93–95, 98–101, 109, 121–22, 142–43, 187. See also North America Nicotiana, 2, 4, 19–20, 45–51, 60–67, 117, 126–27, 134, 148, 181, 197, 207, 222 nicotine, 1–9, 11–21, 59, 63–64, 84–86, 92, 103–10, 119, 125, 177, 185, 189, 195, 197, 225–28, 253; N. rustica, specific species, 4–7, 49, 127, 216; N. tabacum, specific species 1, 4, 6–7, 19, 54–57, 94, 126–127, 181, 216 nightshade, 1–3, 19, 31, 161, 179, 207 North America, 5, 11, 21, 43, 50, 100–103, 118, 133, 153, 200–201. See also New World Neolithic, 101, 111

skinwalkers (Navajo), 139–42, 156 smoke, 5–7, 10, 17–21, 68, 90, 107, 128–42, 145, 155, 161–62, 193, 203, 207, 215, 218–23, 250–52 Solanaceae, 1–2, 19, 31, 161 sorcerer, 13, 34–35, 49, 111, 135–36, 139– 45, 154–56 shamanism, 8, 11, 16, 21, 71, 77, 93–117, 140, 202, 217–19, 226, 256; and altered consciousness, 6, 9–13, 50, 64, 93, 97, 103, 115–19, 218–19; entheogen, 104; dream(s), 50, 71–72, 86, 97, 111, 223; out-of-body, 97; soplada or soplillo, 132; vision quest, 64 Snake Lady, 43–49 spirits, 6, 9–13, 17, 25, 32, 49, 83, 96–102, 111–16, 128–38, 140–46, 154, 174, 218–19 sun, 9, 10, 27–35, 39, 42, 46, 49–51, 57, 59, 79–82, 91, 134, 142, 154, 187, 192, 215

Old World, 2, 4, 11, 13, 17, 95–96, 100–101, 122, 143; Africa, 95–101, 118, 122; Asia, 95–98, 100–102, 119; Australia, 1, 97–98, 256; Europe, 4, 95, 100–101, 11, 115, 133, 140–43, 174,

tobacco as protector (nonhuman): animals (general), 73; ceremonial objects, 74; cooking pots, 74; corn, 74; horses, 73; crops, 73; sheep, 74; supernatural animals, potzlom, 67, 74

Index 2 61

tobacco as repellent (human): evil, 11, 68–72, 131–33, 136–39, 143–45, 154, 218; excessive dreaming, 71–72; potential illness, 9, 65–66, 69–73, 81, 84, 91, 131– 33, 141, 217, 256; pregnancy, attacks on fetus, 73; sickness, 11, 20, 49, 65–73, 77, 90, 98, 131; soul loss, or soul captivity, 72; soul, afterlife, 74–75; snakes, 6, 71, 131, 143, 154; witches, 23, 70–75 tobacco, gender: female tobacco, 56; male tobacco, 56; related concepts of gendered tobacco hotness (heat), spicy, powerful, 60; spirit of (soul of), ch’ulel 65 tobacco, hieroglyphic: k’uhtz, 5, 13–14, 158, 171–72; maay, 63; ma’y, 5–6; MAY, 13, 158–60, 163–65, 179; mahy, 5–6, 13–14, 39, 77, 157–64, 169–71, 178, 189, 205–7, 219, 228, 230; moy, 4–5, 8, 10, 20, 54–61, 73, 80–81, 83, 91, 100, 162 tobacco, references to: angel, 2, 10–11, 13, 19, 51, 54, 56, 71–72, 78–79, 83, 130, 148, 197, 216, 222; anjel 10, 56, 59, 71–72, 77–78, 83, 91, 132; elder brother (bankilal), 10–11, 46, 54–57, 77–79, 91, 153, 220; helper, 54, 69–70, 79, 81, 139, 155; holy man, 56; protector, 54, 69–70, 79, 81, 84, 155 tobacco substitutes, 133–35

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tobacco substitutes, Central America: variants used in Belize, 134; variants used by Ch’orti’, 135 tobacco substitutes, North America: lobelia (Lobelia inflata) or Indian tobacco, 133; sand cherry tree, 133; heartleaf four o’clock (Allionia nyctaginea Michx.), 133; kinnikinnick, 133; sunflower (Helianthus spp.), 134 tobacco substitutes, South America: tupiro (Solanum hirtumVahl), 134; holehole be (ersatz tobacco) (Piper cryptodon DC.), 134; tala, 134 tobacco, with lime (snuff), 5–6, 10–13, 3, 39, 54–58, 60–61, 65, 70, 74–76, 83, 90, 118, 160–62, 194–95, 207, 228 Venus, 32 way (spirit companion), 32, 42, 44, 49, 52, 68, 87, 111–117; co-essence, 32, 40, 42, 45–50 weaving, 35, 46, 194 witch, 9, 11, 22–25, 69–75, 112, 140–43 woman, related to tobacco mythology: daughter, 9–11, 34–35, 41–46, 49–50, 53, 57, 204–5; mother, 25–36, 45, 48, 50, 57, 81; wife, 9–11, 22–25, 27–30, 32, 38; X’T’actani, 32–40, 45, 47, 53

Index