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Set a star bar friends otherwise you will not receive the wonderful push of Wenjing
Not many people should know where Guayaqui is before the publication of the Chronicles of the Guayaqui Indians, nor will they know much about the author's estimates by Pierre Claist. Now, this group of people, this author, is no longer alive, and their stories are left in the book and read by us today.
In the 1972 French edition and the 1998 English edition, the world was once again discovered by guayaqui and Pierre Crest.
Chinese edition of The Chronicles of the Guayaqui Indians
In just a few months since its launch in September 2021, the Chinese edition has also unsurprisingly gained popularity in the Chinese world.
Affirmation from the industry ——
"China Reading News" 2021 top ten good books, Douban 2021 annual reading list (history and culture), "Publisher Magazine" December 2021 most anticipated new book, 2021 Beijing News annual reading recommendation (shortlisted), Phoenix Network Reading 2021 annual recommendation (shortlisted)...
Confessions from readers —
Douban netizen @ Wild Cima:
I thought about what impressed me the most about the whole book, except for the Guayaki language, which was extremely strange at first, but gradually became familiar with it unconsciously, except for the empty mirror with a long afterglow in each chapter, except for Claist's beautiful structuralist dismantling (Deleuze's so-called "confluence and shunt"), in addition to the tear-jerking story in the preface to Auster's translation, the most impressive thing is the unique tone of the Guayaki people when they speak. It's a tone that's hard to describe, full of naivety and self-belief (the former is again my biased view as a self-proclaimed civilized modern person), whether it's the incantation", "We know, that's the way it is...", or the hilarity that Claist makes them imagine themselves as Guayaqui: "Are you a Guayaki?" you? Or when Crest asked a Guayaqui if he recognized the South Bikvara people on the cover of Melancholy Tropics, the big smile and the confident "Go rö cho!" It's me! "...... I also felt a strange sense of comfort: thanks to Crest, this tribe that was willing to die had existed so vividly...
Douban netizens @B:
An anthropological journey into the jungle, apart from calling out the general wonders, many firm adjectives lose their efficacy: here, curses are the best blessings, killing contains tenderness, the line between life and death is sticky, the savagery of human flesh is sweet and the shame of denying cannibalism coexist. Faster-paced than Melancholy Tropics, the first three chapters (to be precise) write tribal myths like a beginner's guide to games, a history of violence like Quentin-style hunting and counter-killing, and social relationships like animal farm-like political thrills, but always properly stop before larvae, whistles, and rituals, like Levi Strauss sniffing daffodils and exploring "the learning hidden by their scents." The most worthwhile physical book of the year, with lost language engraved on the cover, is also a living stone stele that guides readers to read the ciphertext in the book. It is a chronicle of the Guayakians, and also of their souls, Ianve, and I hope you lift it up, upi, as if lifting a newborn, kromi. Finally, I want to say to the translators and editors that this book is very difficult, and you have done it.
Douban netizens @malingcat:
Sure enough, it is a masterpiece of anthropology that uses the plain language of pre-modern times, showing the "culture" of a "barbaric" tribe, confirming Montaigne's statement: "We are more barbaric than them in all respects". Anthropologists approach the endangered tribe with paper, pen, knife, and candy (as gifts), but not every anthropologist who is so equipped and behaved in this way can write such a work, which is not too prestigious to stand on the side of "Melancholy Tropics." Within the framework of modern man's conception, the Guayaki Indian tribes are ignorant, superstitious, indifferent and barbaric, they will kill babies, kill the elderly, kill enemies, especially ritual cannibalism, but they have a set of language, taboos, education, hunting and sharing logic, only from the anthropological perspective, they show the alternative model of "anti-state society". In the sixth chapter, "Killing", the man who killed the little girl for revenge is accepted as the "godson" by the little girl's mother, and the man", who "has such a heavy barrier in his heart that blocks the way of the words", can only use bagpipes to sing the pain in his heart - seeing this, he wants to cry.
Douban netizen @ gin wine:
Reading is like walking through a strange and dense jungle, through the guidance of the author, learning the language of the Acetic people and the way of understanding the world. What was supposed to be an easy trip witnessed the killing, enslavement, and disease exported by the so-called civilized world. In contrast, the Achaeans, who were hated by the civilized world for cannibalism, asked their companions with fraternity to eat themselves and inherit each other's souls. What a wonderful irony of Crest's suppressed and pen-to-pen. When I read it, I often think of "Mythology". But what makes Crest great is that the explanations of actual phenomena that read in Strauss, sometimes almost ridiculous, of myths/incest taboos are so convincing in his presence that the so-called "structure" is no longer just a rigid combination, but a living rule that can be recreated with changing conditions. This section on homosexuality in the tribe is the best illustration of the degree of "science" that I have never seen in Strauss, of the "scientific" extent to which an already outdated structural anthropology can be achieved.
Why do people think that a group of strangers in a distant place is related to us? Why do the works of an author who died young keep being mentioned and discovered?
On the evening of January 8th, we invited Chen Jin, Ma Ling and Wang Zhanhei to share this anthropological classic with readers and try to answer these questions.
The event will be broadcast live on Station B (@Century HorizonBooks) simultaneously
The following is an excerpt from the Chronicles of the Guayaqui Indians
For a Guayaqui, the tribe gave him only one role: a man is equal to a hunter, whether by definition, principle, or vocation. At stake the pillars of the tribe and the individual honor of each man, hunting and its opposites define the boundaries of the community. Thus, a hunter's long-standing concern—or rather, his obsession—is to avoid any situation that could lead to a pane.
Chachuki is in this situation, because a woman's childbirth directly implicates her husband. First of all, he could not be present, and if he accidentally witnessed his wife giving birth, the punishment of this visual "contact" would soon befall him: he would be out hunting. But he did prevention.
I noticed that of all the hunters present, he was the only one who had set out for the woods. But it wasn't an auspicious day, it was cold, and the animals hid in nests, tree holes, or under layers of fallen leaves.
Every Indian would confidently say, "I'm a good hunter." But he would never say, "I'm the best of all hunters." Nor will he say, "I'm better than so-and-so." "Although every Guayakia considers himself to be skilled, no one compares himself to others; everyone will graciously admit that all people have the same quality of perfection.
Rite of Passage: Scar tattoo
So Chachuki's self-confidence is not out of arrogance—a concept unfamiliar to him—but from the conviction that "we just know." ”
Where does Chachuki's knowledge come from? It stems from the fact that for the Indians, the world around them was not a completely neutral space, but a living extension of the human world, in which everything that happened would have an impact on the former. A woman's childbirth can profoundly change the situation of an entire group, and at the same time, this imbalance will also affect the natural world, and life in the forest will suffer a new wave of fluctuations.
From the birth of the baby the night before, Chachuki became bayja (the focus of all living things), and the inhabitants of the forest would gather in his center. He walked silently through the forest, his body emitting something that followed his steps, but it was difficult to describe in words: it was a force that enveloped him, but it was not controlled by him, and with every step he took, this force spread signs of his existence.
If a person is a bayja, animals will flock to it. Chachuki knows this very well, and this is the secret behind his confidence. If a hunter can have a chance to do whatever he wants, now is the time for Chachuki. He went hunting because he knew he was bound to run into prey; because his wife had just given birth, he became bayja (bayja only happens to men, and can only happen to women). That's why he kept his distance from his wife all night, not even looking at her. At the moment, his chances of getting his prey have doubled greatly, and only a madman would risk a pane on a day like this.
Chronicles of the Guayaqui Indians
"Potato paper inner seal adds portable monumentality"
He faces enormous risks. Becoming bayja causes him to face the threat of death, and in order to escape this situation, he must kill the ring. Where does the threat come from? Stemming from the kind of animal-attracting power he now possesses, the Guayaqui people see it in a sense as an invisible doppelganger of a person. This force was driving a large number of wild beasts in his direction, and he had to bend his bow and shoot arrows to kill them. On the surface, everything is signed. The hunter will easily complete the task, because the animal will run to him on its own – the root of the problem and the solution come hand in hand.
The day's hunt was extraordinary. Usually, for Chachuki, the jaguar is primarily a competitor, as the two tend to compete for the same prey. But now, the man is both a hunter and a subject of hunting, because on this day, the animal that the jaguar wants to tear to pieces is himself. In order to regain and preserve his status as a human being, and to avoid becoming an animal because he was devoured by a jaguar, he must prove his identity as a hunter and as an animal hunter. In order to maintain his "personality", he must become a hunter.
Chachuki had only two paths: either to die like a beast, or to kill like a hunter. This is the consequence of bayja: by giving the person affected by it the power to attract animals, it gives the person the means to maintain his "personality", but at the same time, it also exposes him to greater danger, because the jaguar will come with him. Therefore, being bayja means living in ambiguity, meaning being a hunter and a prey at the same time, in other words, being in the middle of nature and civilization. This is perhaps the deeper meaning of the Guayaqui people's explicit interpretation of bayja: the danger to Chachuki is nothing more than a living metaphor for his crumbling living conditions; it can only be lived after death.
This gives us a better understanding of why Chachuki was so careful not to let his gaze drift to where his wife was. Because on this day, his ritualistic expedition to the cosmic level, even with some sacred color, if he succumbs to his curiosity, the doom that is about to befall him is naturally much more serious than the so-called "literal" hunting disadvantage. He will find that, in this moment when he needs good luck the most, he will be powerless to fight back against the jaguar, and in an irreparable way. This time, the disadvantage of hunting does not mean only returning to the camp empty-handed, but it means that he will become an undead under the claws of the beast. So if he doesn't come back in a few hours, we know exactly what the funeral eulogy should say: "The jaguar has devoured him." "Of course, I don't know what Chachuki thinks. (If I fantasize that I can see through the inner world of a barbarian, then I am too stupid and naïve.) But I know very well that he walked swiftly into that dangerous, dynamic world, as brave as ever, and careful not to be misled by the call of the jungle.
In fact, he was ahead of himself, he was searching for himself, his own essence. That doesn't mean he's lost himself, but as we've just seen, that's the risk he's facing. Avoiding death was not a top priority (the Indians were not afraid of death), the most important thing was to try to make the land beneath his feet, the animals in it, its inhabitants, and the forces that controlled it know who he was. The possibility of dying in the jungle is a poetic expression, behind which is a deeper question of his existence, a "death sentence" (even if only on a symbolic level), because it shakes the essence of his existence. Everything that is happening now seems to be saying that the world has shut Chachuki out of the door and no longer recognizes the position he has always occupied. Therefore, he must re-impose his existence on the world, and win back the right to live in the world temporarily by the actions of a hunter.
But what exactly caused this cruel and unforgiving change to turn Chachuki's life upside down? What kind of sudden but deadly force led him to the path it paved and made him face death in order to eliminate his existence? (Now, it doesn't matter exactly how the real world is.) Chachuki was convinced that jaguars would swarm, so they were real in the forest. Throwing up such a question means that we are not satisfied with the Indians' explicit answers, but want to sink into a deeper sense, into their subconscious level. The Theory of the Guayaqui is straightforward in linking Chachuki's situation with the fact that he became bayja, and this is because his wife has just given birth. It follows that when a woman gives birth, her husband (or husbands) will be in danger of life. But is childbirth the only situation that can lead men to bayja threats? Not really. Threats also exist in situations where a daughter has a menarche or someone has miscarried (whether intentional or accidental). In this way, it seems that the dangerous power of bayja will only be released when a woman's femininity explodes and simultaneously disrupts her personal body and the social life of the entire group. From a sociological point of view, abortion or female menarche has as much an impact on tribal life as a childbirth, and people tend to deal with these events through rituals: rituals as a means of socializing a primitive, just-occurring event, which is thus absorbed into an intermediary symbolic system; in other words, it is in the ceremonial space and through the ritual space that the natural order has a cultural meaning.
So, should we associate bayja with the traits that make women feminine? Femininity here refers to the unclean parts of the female body—at least that's what the Indians think; and as for men, they have to do everything in their power to avoid contamination with these unclean things, scenes like this I have observed countless times. Differences in ritual procedures are enough to answer this question. Although all three of the above-mentioned situations would lead to the same set of purification rituals (which were currently being prepared by the people who helped in The Birth of Pichuki last night), the husband would only go out hunting if the wife gave birth. Of course, menarche, miscarriage, and fertility have in common, they cause the same problems for the men of the tribe (they all lead to bayja and all the dangers that come with it), and they all require men to go through the same set of rituals. They constitute a unified whole, a system that can no doubt be explained by a common principle. But it is clear that childbirth is too special to be confused with other situations. The whole group gives birth a greater significance; in short, it brings a "surplus" of meaning that must be responded with a ritual "excess" or "excess" step, i.e., the hunt of Chachuki. The danger he wants to overcome by hunting does not come from bayja in the usual sense, which can be removed simply by purifying it with vines.
Obviously, bayja brings different problems to men in degrees, and this difference leads to a difference in rituals as a counterpart: what causes a woman's husband to have to go hunting when it comes to childbirth, while not in the other two cases? Quite simply, because there is an extra newborn. If the ritual of purification after menarche and abortion is determined entirely by the relationship between the woman and the man, in the case of childbirth this constitutes only part of the reason for determining the steps of the ritual: for now a new bond has been added which connects the man and the newborn and turns the woman's husband into the father of the child. The halo emitted by the child's presence led to greater danger, which made the father's soul restless, so he accepted the challenge and went into the dense forest. Women are seen as a threat to men, so her symbolic importance often overrides the presence of the newborn: we forget about him because his presence is too prominent. As a result, the rituals required for childbirth are more complex than those caused by a woman's other physiological activities. In fact, for a man, it can be further divided into two steps: if a purifying bath can liberate him from the bayja caused by his wife, then the explanation of ritual hunting must begin with the role of the baby.
Pichuki and her baby
Let's put the mother's question aside and ask why the birth of a baby puts the father in such a dire situation. Fathers have to go out and compete with a large number of jaguars for prey to avoid their attacks. So, while everyone is committed to making the world a friendlier, peaceful, and livable place when a baby is born, for a father, from that moment on, the world becomes dangerous. It's a place of danger, and countless jaguars are thrown onto his path in an attempt to wipe out his presence. The mysterious and mischievous principle behind this antagonism can be reduced to a dry law: the union of the child with the world means the separation of the father from the world.
kybuchu (meaning "child")
The behavior of the Indians tells us that their minds seem to say that children and fathers cannot coexist in the world. As the spokesperson of death and the messenger of the baby, the jaguar is appointed to re-establish world order in order to fulfill the Indian subconscious destiny of killing the father: the birth of the child is the death of the father. The questioned father can only survive by killing his prey and fights to the death as a victor against the jaguar, the embodiment of infant power.
In other words, the father and the child are on the same page. In essence, this power is not only a challenge to the social order, it even shakes the order of the universe: a new life can be born only by removing another life; and the order destroyed by the birth of one life can be rebuilt only through the death with which it is counteracted. Even if the father succeeds in killing the prey and thus escaping from the claws of the jaguar, on a symbolic level, the birth of the child has declared the death of the father.
Ultimately, what the ritual acts of the Indians tell us time and time again is precisely this one that is constantly being discovered that man is not eternal, that we must succumb to a finite life, and that it is impossible for one to straddle life and death at the same time. Here, the subconscious thoughts of the barbarians, which can only be expressed by deeds, magically fit together with the highly conscious logos behind Western thought. In the end, whether indians or philosophers, the common dilemma of their efforts is that they do not know death, but they can know life.
In Indian thought, the fear of the jaguar occupies a central place. People don't see jaguars as beasts in the jungle, but as messengers of some invisible force. And the information I got a few weeks ago confirmed that in hindsight.
The next day, her husband went out hunting, but that night he returned empty-handed. “Pane.” He said succinctly. Perhaps he failed to strictly adhere to the taboo of non-peeping. In short, the situation became dangerous, and he could only hope that the ritual would keep the danger out. "What are you going to do?" "Burn some beeswax so the jaguar doesn't come." In addition, the ritual of burning beeswax occurs in only one situation: erosion. When the blue jaguar—the jaguar of the sky—tries to swallow the moon or the sun, the smoke from the burning beeswax will force it back; the threatened stars are saved, and the end of the world is once again postponed.
By Pierre Klast
Translated by Lu Guiye
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