Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 July 1917 — THe San Blas Indians [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THe San Blas Indians

WHERE does it lie, this peculiar lure of the Indian? It grips, us when Big Chief comes to town, a pictured Indian brave quickens our pulses and especially has the Cuna Cuna or San Blas tribe aroused my interest, writes Alice S. Macqueen in the Los Angeles Times. For more than four centuries they have dwelt along the Atlantic coast of Panama, about 60 miles north of Colon toward Colombia. Historical records tell us that formerly their territory extended as far as the valleys of the eastern reaches of the Chagres river, covering both sides of the Continental divide between the present Canal zone and the bays of Atrato and San Miguel; but much of their belongings have gradually been taken from them, although they are ■constantly on the watch for the hated Invader, ready to fight for their possessions. The very withdrawal of the San Blas Indian women from contact with the outside world lends romance and mystery to a visit to their country. Until recently, I am told, white women had not visited their dusky sisters, who bear little resemblance to our Indians of the United States. These diminutive people, seldom reaching more than five feet, with their dark copper skins, could hardly be taken for Africans, but for their telltale crisp, black hair. Years of ocean bathing and basking In the rays of the sun has given them a deep bronze complexion. At the Island of Corti. Early on a bright July morning we sat on the deck of the S. S. San Blas. Our little steamer was low in the water. Twice an alligator grazed her bow, creating great excitement. The brilliant sun had converted the ever blue Caribbean Into a glistening jewel box; coconut palms clothed in verdant, sheeny green lifted proud heads from water edge to horizon.

An hour’s ride and the island of Corti, our destination, was in sight. “Cayucos,” large and small, danced about on the waves. Tiny Indian boys of five or six years valiantly paddled boats no larger than themselves; each ripple threatened disaster._ Big brother manned larger craft. Sometimes Seven or eight occupied one boat. “Nuede” they greeted, so “Nuede” we called back over the water. This meant “How do you do?” the captain told us, although I cannot vouch for the spelling, using sound for my guide. Soon a reception committee swarmed the deck of our ship, accompanied by “Charlie,” the interpreter, and after considerable consultation among themselves, he advised us to follow him. We had seen many of these Indian men on the streets of Panama, but a closer study was Interesting. Hats, far too small, chiefly black derbies, were perched aloft the stiff upstanding hali Shirts of different hues, worn outside blue jean or black trousers of uncertain length and an occasional necktie completed their costume. Gravely the elders surveyed us, while the younger generation eagerly waited our tossing of coins into the water, when their shining, naked bodies would poise for an instant 'on the boat’s side, then splash they went into the water, only reappearing when the victor had secured our offering. So clear was the water that their agile bodies were not lost to sight for an instant. Before US lay a brown patch. ■ A “wart,” we agreed, on Mother Nature’s face. This was Corti. The island seemed to be floating about on the water and looked as though it might sink mny moment Camera laden and filled ! with the spirit of adventure, we crowded into “Charlie’s” waiting “cayuco." As we neared the island black heads bobbed up here and there in the water. How they chattered, those curious boy Indians I The doorways, opening fairly on the water edge, were crowded with men, women with babes in arms and children. The women were garbed in “fiesta” attire, as a five-day celebration, the nature of which we were unable to ascertain, was being held. Gay turkey red, yellow and purple calico encased them, while behind, covering

every available spot of ground, were their homes. Narrow sticks, bound together by mountain vines, formed the sides, and they were surmounted by palm-thatched roofs. As we drew near the women and girls quickly concealed their faces in bright mantles, but piercing black eyes still spied at us inquisitively. Abashed or afraid they would not even permit us to caress their babies. “Come,” said our guide, and we entered the first of the long line of dwellings. Each one, we were told, housed from ten to twenty families. In the dim light, furnished by two low doorways, we distinguished a tremendous room, with floors of hard packed clay. There was little furniture, except a few hammocks strung about, while clothes lines seemed to form a division for the family quarters. An occasional wooden bench was occupied by groups of men recovering from too much celebration. Cleanliness seemed the rule. The ocean serves as bath house, toilet and medicine man to these primitive people. The Indians stood about in groups, ever watchful, apparently waiting for our departure.

Long Hair Only for Young Girls. The women and children soon became less timid, and followed us through the narrow passageways, endeavoring to loosen our brooches, trinkets and belt pins. They exclaimed over our clothing and asked many questions, which our guide answered to his own, and apparently their, satisfaction. There were four women and three men in our party. Sad to say, the latter received slight attention. One of our girls had very light hair. This interested them. They removed her hat and quickly loosened her hair, and 10, it was spread before them “pure gold!” “But why had this lovely maiden long hair?” they questioned “Charlie.” We found that only the young girls of their tribe wore long tresses. This discovery was made by: our being halted before a booth similar to that of h church bazaar. Two Indian maidens were squatted on the floor ready to be shorn of their stiff, jetty locks, the priestess of this haircutting ceremony being a withered old squaw. Twelve years old the maidens were today—mature women, ready for suitable husbands. So after all the children bearing children in arms were young mothers, though immature of feature and form. A picture of thrqe little girls, daughters of a member of our party, was shown to the old woman. “Humph!” she grunted; “too bad, all girls.” Then slyly she slipped the photograph inside her bodice, and we saw it no more. Perhaps it will be treasured by her grandchildren, certainly she considered it a prize. An unlooked-for bargaining spirit was displayed when we endeavored to purchase some of their handiwork. Three, four and five dollars was asked for the waists. Paper money would not be considered, only silver satisfying them.