Глава коренных народов Тринидада и Тобаго опроверг вековую трактовку названия Аримы как «места воды»

[email protected] For generations, Trinidad and Tobago has been told that Arima means “water”, a meaning repeated in historical references and popular accounts, which describe Arima as an Amerindian name meaning “water” or “place of much water”. But Chief of the First Peoples of Trinidad and Tobago Ricardo Bharath is challenging that long-held interpretation. Bharath says research within the Indigenous community has failed to establish that “Arima” or “Hyarima” means water in the Indigenous languages historically spoken by the First Peoples. “For a long time, we heard that Hyarima meant water,” Bharath said. “But after doing a lot of research and talking with different people, elders and so on, we have not yet come across in any of the Indigenous languages that would have been spoken among our peoples… anything close to Hyarima that will imply that the meaning is water.” He said the languages considered include Carinya, which he identifies as the Carib language; Lokono, associated with the Arawak; as well as Warao and Nipoyo. “We have not seen anything close to Hyarima that will imply that the meaning is water,” he said. “I don’t know where that came from.” Instead, Bharath said the interpretation more strongly supported within the First Peoples community is that Hyarima or Hyarimati referred to a gathering place. “What we have more in our community is that Hyarima, Hyarimati, meant the gathering place or the place where we met to converse and to plan and so on,” he said. And, he argues, the historical role of the area supports that interpretation. “Because we know that the different chiefs from around the country would have met with Hyarima from time to time in this place,” Bharath said. “As a meeting point, as a place for deliberation, for planning their strategies and so on.” “So that makes more sense in terms of Hyarima taking its name from the term Hyarimati, where we gather, where we come together.” Beyond the meaning of a name The interpretation is significant because it changes the way the town’s name, and its history, can be understood. Rather than simply being associated with the river that runs through the town, Bharath’s account places community, deliberation and Indigenous resistance at the centre of Arima’s identity. The debate is not new. Guardian Media previously reported a First Peoples explanation that also challenged the “water” interpretation, with former Partners of First Peoples chairman Roger Belix saying Arima was instead associated with an Indigenous plant whose roots were used for fishing. Bharath’s interpretation adds another Indigenous account to the historical debate. Whatever the eventual conclusion about the name, Bharath insists the history of Arima must begin long before the modern borough and its colonial institutions. “As far as I can recall, we have oral history, and then we have documented history,” he said. “Both the oral and documented history speak to the Indigenous peoples occupying the Arima area in what we would consider to be not a uniform setting, as you would lay out a town, you know, in modern-day terms.” “But the First Peoples inhabited areas here in Arima, mostly on the hills and so on.” That Indigenous presence was transformed with Spanish colonisation. Bharath said there were three principal Spanish-controlled encomiendas in Trinidad: Tacarigua, Arauca, now Arouca, and Cora. “These were Spanish-controlled areas, and they had the Indigenous peoples as their work people, their workforce and so on,” he said. After the encomienda system began to fail, the Spanish shifted towards the establishment of Catholic missions. “After that system failed to a certain degree, they went about to set up missions, mission towns throughout Trinidad,” Bharath said. “You find a lot of these missions were established in south Trinidad, in north Trinidad and so on.” Arima eventually became the last Catholic mission established for the Indigenous population. “Arima really was the last mission, Catholic mission, to be set up in the 1700s,” he said. The mission was established by Capuchin missionaries from Spain, some of whom came from Venezuela, for Indigenous people associated with the three encomiendas. “And so all the Amerindians or First Peoples, as we refer to them today from these encomiendas, were brought to Arima,” Bharath said. He said the development of the settlement involved both the Catholic Church and the Indigenous leadership of the time. “Of course, in those days, you had the chief of the village who had quite a lot of powers in those very early days,” he said. “And together with the church, of course, they started to outline the village, lay out the village,” he said, “and that is how the beginning of Arima started, you know, to what it is today.” The cost of colonisation But the creation of the mission also represented a fundamental transformation of Indigenous life. “Well, as you know, with the colonisation by the Spaniards and the dominance of the Catholic church, it changed the lives of the First Peoples and their culture,” Bharath said. “In the first instance, they were christened, they were baptised into Catholicism.” “And so they had to take Spanish names.” Bharath said that before colonisation, Indigenous people had their own names. “Before that, they just had one name, which was an Indigenous name,” he said. “They had to conform to the teachings of the church, the Catholic church.” The impact extended beyond religion. “So that by itself, you know, suppressed the culture of the Indigenous peoples in that their religion changed from the original beliefs to the more Christian Catholic beliefs,” Bharath said. “Their language changed because they were now exposed to Spanish as the official language.” “So they learned to speak Spanish and so on.” “That contributed quite a lot to the demise of the culture of the First Peoples.” Despite that suppression, Bharath said Indigenous culture was not completely erased. One of the mechanisms through which it survived was the Santa Rosa Festival. “But in all of that, they were able to maintain a level of that culture through the Santa Rosa festival, which was established as their main activity now in the town,” he said. “Through that festival, which was held in the month of August, they were able to display their goods in terms of their craft, their food, their culinary skills and so on, their sports, their archery and that continued for a number of years in Arima,” he said. Bharath acknowledged that much more of the culture has been lost over time. “Continuing on to today, which again, a lot of years have passed and more of the culture would have been lost,” he said. But he stressed that Indigenous identity remains present in Arima. “Still, there are quite a significant portion of Arima that identify with the Indigenous roots, the Amerindian roots and are proud of that even up to today.” The struggle now, he said, is recognition. “Even though we don’t have the recognition that we have been striving for over the years, but we continue to celebrate, to do what we know and to continue to advocate and to call on the authorities for that recognition. “And we believe that by doing so at some point in time, we will see, you know, the benefit of that.” Development brings progress and loss Bharath, who was born and raised in Arima, said the town has undoubtedly improved in some respects. “The borough, through development over the years, has seen an improvement in the standard of living, I would say, of the burgesses,” he said, “They would have moved from a certain level to a higher level, if we would call it so.” For Indigenous people, however, development could not replace everything that was lost. “While for the Indigenous peoples, there are certain elements of the culture that could never be replaced,” Bharath said. At the same time, he acknowledged the benefits of modern development. “Development would have contributed to better living standards, a more healthy environment with sanitation and all that, which did not really exist in the very early days that contributed to more disease and so on.” “So on the one hand, I would say there has been a significant level of improvement.” “Development”, then came the qualification, “But on the other hand, there is a lot of decay.” Bharath said the growth of Christianity has not necessarily translated into a stronger society. “You are seeing now that, you know, there are more churches, let us say, in the borough under the umbrella of Christianity,” he said, “And yet, still, you’re seeing the demise in certain areas of life, which should not be so. “You should have an improved standard across the board, but we are not seeing that so something drastically is wrong. Something is missing”, he added. Bharath believes that what is missing can partly be found in the principles that governed Indigenous communities. “And there is where the First Peoples come in, because they had certain principles,” he said. “If those principles were upheld and allowed to flourish, on one hand, we would have seen a more level, a greater level of respect for each other and a better society in terms of the social aspect of society and so on.” “So on one hand, you have development. On the other hand, you have a decline.” For Bharath, this contradiction is central to the modern story of Arima. The town has physically developed, but the values of community and collective responsibility that once defined Indigenous society have not necessarily kept pace. Hyarima: A symbol of resistance Standing alongside the modern development of Arima is another reminder of its Indigenous past: the monument to Hyarima. Bharath said many people may pass the monument without fully understanding who Hyarima was. “Hyarima was one of the Nippoyo leaders, the cacique of the Nippoyo,” he said, “He led the warrior movement for the Nippoyo.” “The Nippoyos are a nation of the Indigenous peoples.” According to Bharath, the Nippoyos occupied parts of the Northern Range and its foothills. “He lived in, he got away from one of the encomiendas and he came back to the mountains and so on.” But Hyarima would become known for his resistance to Spanish rule. “He made the boldest move against the Spaniards in 1637,” Bharath said, “On the 14th of October, 1637, he attacked the town of St Joseph.” At the time, St Joseph was the capital of Trinidad. “St Joseph was then the capital of Trinidad. And he burned it flat to the ground in retaliation of the oppression that the Spaniards, the colonisers, were imposing upon the people”, he stated. Bharath said Hyarima formed alliances, including with the Dutch from Tobago. “And he formed other alliances; he was able to defeat the Spanish.” But the victory did not last. “That was short-lived because he was captured shortly after.” Bharath did not dwell on the manner of Hyarima’s eventual fate. Instead, he focused on what the warrior represented. “But he stood up for his people, he fought for his people.” That history has given October 14 a special meaning for the First Peoples. “So we choose the 14th of October every year as a day of resistance against the oppression, the colonisation of our First Peoples,” Bharath said. “That is the symbol you see there of Hyarima and because of his brevity and his relentless effort in trying to keep the Spaniards out, we recognise that day in his honour, he added. For Bharath, Hyarima is therefore not simply a historical figure. He is a symbol of Indigenous resistance and the refusal to allow the story of the First Peoples to disappear. A different story of Arima That brings the story back to the name itself. But Bharath says the First Peoples’ own research has not confirmed that. “For a long time, we heard that Arima meant water,” he repeated. “But after doing a lot of research and talking with different people, elders and so on, we have not yet come across in any of the Indigenous languages… anything close to Hyarima that will imply that the meaning is water.” Instead, he returns to the idea of Hyarimati, the place where people gathered. “A place for deliberation, for planning their strategies and so on,” he said. “So that makes more sense in terms of Hyarima taking its name from the term Hyarimati, where we gather, where we come together.” “And Hyarima would have taken his name also from that setting.” But Bharath is asking Trinidad and Tobago to listen to another version, one preserved through Indigenous oral history, community research and the memory of elders. A version in which Arima was not simply a place beside a river. It was a place where people came together. A place where chiefs met. A place where plans were made. A place from which resistance was organised. And, centuries later, a place where descendants of those First Peoples continue to fight for recognition of the culture that survived colonisation. “Where we gather, where we come together,” Bharath said. That, he believes, may be closer to the story of Arima than the one Trinidad and Tobago has repeated for generations.