Tag Archives: Indigenous history

Around the Table Podcast: Archaeology of Food with Crystal Dozier

By Sarah Peters Kernan

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In this episode, Sarah Kernan speaks with Crystal Dozier, Associate Professor and anthropological archaeologist at Wichita State University in Wichita, Kansas. She is Chair for the Department of Anthropology, Director of Wichita State’s Archaeology of Food Laboratory, and City Archaeologist for the city of Wichita. Crystal describes researching food and foodways using archaeological approaches, including experimental archaeology. Follow the Archaeology of Food Laboratory on Instagram and Facebook.

Music

Frédéric Chopin, Etude Op. 10, no. 5 in G flat major

Provided by Musopen.org through Creative Commons Public Domain Mark 1.0

Mentioned in the Show

Wichita State University’s Archaeology of Food Laboratory

Grape Wine Biomarkers on Pottery Sherds

Recreating Pumpkin Leather

Recreating 16th Century Wine

Making Mead

Riley Muncher (Alumnus, Wichita State University’s Archaeology of Food Laboratory)

Transcript

Sarah Kernan 00:08

This is Around the Table, a podcast from the Recipes Project. I’m your host, Sarah Kernan. Together, we will learn about exciting scholars, professionals, projects, resources, and collections focused on historical recipes.

Welcome to Season 2, dedicated to “making.” In each episode this season, we will feature interviews with guests who describe what making means to them. For some, it is recreating a historic recipe as closely as possible. For others, it is creating something new in a modern setting. However imperfect the process or the outcome, making historical recipes offers a powerful methodology for connecting with and understanding the past in a direct and tangible way.

Today I’m speaking to Dr. Crystal Dozier, Associate Professor and Anthropological Archaeologist at Wichita State University in Wichita, Kansas. She is the Chair of the Department of Anthropology, Director of Wichita State’s Archaeology of Food Laboratory, and City Archaeologist for the City of Wichita. I am excited to speak to her today about her expertise in researching food and foodways using archaeological approaches, including experimental archaeology. Crystal, thank you so much for joining me today.

Crystal Dozier 01:36

I’m delighted to be here.

Sarah Kernan 01:38

So, as I just mentioned, one of your areas of expertise is using archaeological approaches to studying food and foodways. Could you tell us a bit more about what those approaches are and what that can reveal about food and foodways centuries or even millennia ago?

Crystal Dozier 01:56

Of course. So, in your expertise of food history, you’re focused on the written word related to humans’ relationship with food. And archaeology is the companion science to history in this way, in that we’re telling a historical story, but we do not have always the written documentation to accompany it.

So, the archaeological record is a wealth of information that isn’t written down, but rather embodied in artifacts. So, our ability to tell the history of food in archaeology is going to the remnants of cooking practices themselves. To be explicit, this is looking at animal bones. This is the burned crust on the outside of bowls that are thousands of years old. This is looking at micro botanical remains that have been carbonized and preserved for thousands of years even. So, this is a companion to the written word in our understanding of food history by looking at what was actually practiced and what physically remains from those ancient techniques.

So, I like to think of the archaeology side of it as giving us this extra window into humans’ relationship in food that is actually far deeper and far wider than what the historical narrative can tell us. The historical narrative is, of course, relegated to those manuscripts that survive, written for people who could read them, which is a minority of humans across time and space.

So archaeology gives us these insights into all of these practices that we don’t have a written record for, or when we’re lucky enough to have a written record for, usually that’s biased or partial, and archaeology can widen this view of what was actually done in the past.

Sarah Kernan 04:04

I absolutely love the way that you phrase that, that archaeology and this history are companions in creating this narrative. And that’s an excellent segue into my next question. A lot of scholars who deal primarily with this written evidence have simply relied on the work of archaeologists to supplement or support their findings. But your research and publications really show that archaeology often reveals things that simply aren’t present in other evidence or even brings to light things when there isn’t any evidence at all in a written record. So could you talk about some more examples of your work that really highlight the value of archaeological methods in revealing previously hidden or unconsidered moments in a culture’s relationship with food?

Crystal Dozier 04:57

Yeah, I think there’s lots of different ways to attack this question. I usually, as an archaeologist, I usually actually start with the written word. So, we rely a lot on the historical narrative and ethnographies that are written. But sometimes you have to realize that those are partial or incomplete. And so I have a couple of examples I can think of, one from my work and one in archaeology more general.

To come from my work, I had done a study as part of my dissertation looking at a Native American community right before Spanish colonization in central Texas. And archaeologists called this the Toyah phase, somewhere around 1350 AD to just, you know, the colonial moment, 1600, 1650.

And what we know about this group of people is that they were non-agricultural, so they’re mobile hunters and gatherers. There’s lots of bison bones at the sites. There’s usually lots of stone tools, but one of the unique things that is found at these kind of sites is pottery.

And for non-agricultural groups that are mobile, it’s a huge question of why you would put in the time and the effort to make pottery you’re doing the same life ways that you’ve done for thousands of years, you’ve never needed pottery before. You’ve got to lug it around. It’s heavy. It’s fragile. So you have all these questions about why would you start developing a ceramic tradition? And this is a group that there is no direct written history for. We have archaeological evidence, but there was no observation by colonialists into this tradition by the time that we have a historical record in North America.

So my dissertation asked the question of why would you put so much effort into making pottery for this foraging group? And one of the things that I noticed about the kinds of sites that we see for this group of folks is that quite a number of them showed evidence of feasting, of throwing really large parties that were probably inter-ethnic.

Crystal Dozier 07:12

And the reason why I say this is that we find earth ovens, which are a form of cooking technology all over the world in which people put rocks into fire, and then use the heat in the rocks to cook other foods. Usually it’s, you dig a hole, you set a fire, you put the rocks in the hole, the rocks absorb the heat of the fire.

You let the fire burn down, but the rocks are still hot. Cover it with green material, put your food in there, cover it all tightly wrapped. You cover it back up with dirt, and it’s kind of like a crock pot. It maintains the heat and will cook it for a long time without direct fire, so it’s very safe. And looking at the earth ovens at these sites are ginormous.

They are, I have to use metric, it’s 10 meters by 10 meters. That’s 30 feet by 30 feet. This is, you know, you can lie down several people inside of this crock pot, which implies that you’re either cooking something very, very large, or you’re feeding a lot of people, or both. And so these sites that have pottery for this non-agricultural community also includes pottery from the surrounding regions.

So, they’re in central Texas, but they’re pulling ceramics from east Texas and from west Texas. And so, I looked at the residue inside the pottery at some of these sites as part of my dissertation, with the idea that they’re probably making something important in them. And I had a bunch of different hypotheses about what kind of things they could be cooking. And one of the things I chose to explore is whether or not they were making fermented alcoholic beverages, because that’s what people do.

Crystal Dozier 09:04

When you throw a big party, a common feature internationally throughout human history is that you provide a beverage to your guests. And so I decided to include the ability to look for some biomarkers associated with grape wine, tartaric and succinic acids.

And to my delight and surprise, we did find this evidence of tartaric and succinic acids in this pottery sherd that predates Spanish expedition into North America. None of the colonial powers in North America reported grape wine as an indigenous product. But North America has a huge variety of “wild grapes” that colonial narratives emphasized how bountiful and available they were, which is probably because they were in the leftover stands that were being cultivated by Indigenous people prior to colonization.

And so this research helps open up the door to say, hey, even though Europeans didn’t see this, and I do think part of this is because the European mythos around fermentation is so strong, particularly wine. So that the idea that you have Indigenous folks producing the same things and using the same technology was previously unconsidered. And I hope this research opens that door to say, hey, even though the Spanish, the French, didn’t see it, doesn’t mean that this wasn’t being practiced. Because human beings love a good drink.

Sarah Kernan 10:53

Absolutely.

Crystal Dozier 10:56

And there’s tons of it. So that’s one example from my research of things that hadn’t been considered before, that was a hidden foodways. And the reason why it’s hidden, I think, you know, may be really multilayered. But archaeology in general, I think, provides these alternative narratives to challenge both the historical understanding and really empower the way we think about humans’ relationship with food.

And this is by clarifying the origin of various foodstuffs. You know, where do these products come from? And also giving, I think, a lot of respect to the people actually doing the cooking, the chefs, and the women, and domestic labor that’s actually providing these meals for their families and their communities.

Sarah Kernan 11:45

I love that description. That’s such a great example that you have there. On a kind of related note, you’ve mentioned some elements of this as we’ve been talking so far. But could you talk more about how using a methodology like experimental archaeology might differ depending on the cultural context that you’re working in? For example, you’ve researched some very different topics and cultures. You have researched pumpkin mats made by Indigenous groups in the North American Great Plains. And you’ve worked on recreating 16th century French wine following a recipe in Charles Estienne’s L’agriculture et maison rustique. And these are really different places and times and types of supporting evidence, other evidence to draw upon to supplement your work and research and narrative. How do you think about tackling such different projects and what type of evidence you can draw on that might be available to support an experimental approach?

Crystal Dozier 12:50

Sure. So my work in experimental archaeology is mostly to understand how do we know from the archaeological record what people were cooking and eating. So in order to do that we need to actually make things we think people were eating and then see how it decomposes, see how it is formulated, and what components of it may persist in the archaeological record, you know, for thousands of years.

And for these kind of studies we have to start with what we know about these food products. So that can either come from the historical record, which is either through recipes, written down, which are fairly constrained, or it has to come from ethnographies, which are third-party observations of this foodstuff. If you’re very, very lucky, another resource that we can use is oral traditions of people who have continued those foodway practices. All of these sources come with the same kind of recognition that they are a product of a time and a place and therefore are not a full understanding of a particular practice.

For example, I don’t think everyone in the sixteenth century was making wine in this one particular recipe that we found. Or for the pumpkin leather mats, which is a form of fruit leather made with pumpkin, we were able to find two different records of ethnographies, of observations, of watching it being made, and they follow different techniques.

Because the goal of these studies is to figure out what is left in the archaeological record when the food is complete, that means we also need to take account what are the scientific processes that we know are happening in order to record it. These experiments do look and feel very scientific. We are measuring everything, everything from how much time it takes to how much water we put in, you know, to the actual looking at these things underneath the microscope, which is my main focus. Is, from this food, what is left on the crumbs of the piece of pottery that we’re looking for, the microbotanical crumbs, so to say.

Crystal Dozier 15:17

So, we have to be very exacting with our methodologies. But the process of it is remarkably similar, even though we are looking from very different traditions and time periods, in that you start with what do we know about this practice? What do we don’t know? What is likely to survive in the archaeological record? How can we trace that through this experiment? And very often we find also through the practice of making these past foodways, all sorts of tactical knowledge you would never know without physically trying to do it yourself.

You know, how would you know that this particular food gets very sticky at this stage, or that it makes a particular sound? And that sound is probably rather than, you know, what we’re doing, the temperature checks and the pH levels, maybe it was it was probably that sound or that texture that led ancient cooks to know, oh, this is done. So in that way, it is very scientific.

But I also really appreciate the very humanistic nature that recreation of these foods gives you is that, oh, this is messy and cooking is messy, and why did no one ever tell me that you can dry pumpkin and then rehydrate it to use all year round?

Sarah Kernan 16:38

You’ve worked on such a variety of really interesting projects. Do you have any favorites or is there anything you’re really excited to research soon?

Crystal Dozier 16:48

Yeah. I’ll tell you maybe the highlights of the experimental archaeology is when the food turns out really good. There’s also when the food does not turn out really good. So, my most “successful” experiment, in that it turned out delicious, is probably, I made mead, honey wine. And the goal of that experiment was to figure out if the pollen in the honey survived the fermentation process. Because pollen survives for a long period of time, we know that people often add honey to all sorts of fermented beverages. And so it was a very straightforward experiment of, does that pollen, does that remain through the fermentation? And that was probably my most delicious experiment to date.

The pumpkin mat also is a very delicious experiment. So, in that, which I kind of referenced, is dried pumpkin leather, like fruit leather, that is woven into a mat, like a, think like a table mat, but not that you would put stuff on, just for storage. And that is an incredible piece of technology. That we did the experiment three years ago and it’s still hanging in my lab. It is completely still edible. And every six months, we like take out a pair of scissors and cut off a piece and dunk it in hot water and be like, is it done? Do we need to take it down? Nope, this is still pumpkin-y.

Sarah Kernan 18:32

Wow.

Crystal Dozier 18:33

So that’s the really exciting, when you’re like, wow, this really works, and it’s delicious, and it continues. Every once in a while though, you realize how much we don’t know from ancient cooks and that they knew ways to make things delicious that were not written down and we do not have access to.

So recently, one of my graduate students completed an experiment looking at mesquite bean pods. So you probably know mesquite, the little bushy tree people use its wood a lot for smoking, but the beans themselves you can grind into flour. You can make all sorts of things with that. You can make bread, you can make cakes. We were particularly interested in making beer. In South America it’s very common, it’s called algarroba. And we wanted to recreate this knowing that in North America people were probably doing it as well. And I must say, missing a written record certainly missed something for us, because the experiment was successful in that we got really great data and being able to understand if or when people might have been making this in the past, based on starch residue. But it kind of tasted like dirt.

Sarah Kernan 19:50

Oh. I’m sorry that one didn’t work out.

Crystal Dozier 19:53

That one, I mean, it fermented, it was two and a half, almost 3 percent alcohol by volume. So, a light sessionable beer, but it was pretty acidic to modern tastes. So it’s one of those things of like, okay, we’ll be able to tell this, but we need more research into what ancient people were doing because they probably knew better than we do how to make this actually delicious.

Sarah Kernan 20:19

Wow. Well, I guess you might have to have another graduate student down the line work on that one again.

Crystal Dozier 20:23

Exactly.

Sarah Kernan 20:26

If we could turn a little bit toward teaching and public engagement. Food is such an incredible way to draw in people, get them interested in all kinds of topics and fields of study that maybe they normally wouldn’t be all that engaged with. And your institution, Wichita State University, has a really incredible resource, the Archaeology of Food Laboratory. Could you talk a bit about how the lab functions and how it works with and engages students of all levels and ages, and how the lab interacts with the public and non-academics?

Crystal Dozier 21:07

Sure. So the Archaeology of Food Lab is something that I established shortly after arriving at Wichita State as a way to not only formalize a lot of these research questions that I’ve had in the basis of my research, but also explicitly to be the avenue to support not only students, but the public at large. And so the way that the lab functions is really in two different components.

The first of which is that the lab actually serves as a contract archaeology research lab. In that I take research contracts from mostly private archaeological firms with very particular questions about the foodways that they’re researching. Most of these firms work in what’s called cultural resource management, which is a compliance-based field that ensures that when development is happening, that roads, airports, anything with federal funding isn’t destroying the archaeological record as part of that development. And as those firms ensure the safety of our historical record, they encounter things that they don’t know what to do with and that very few people have expertise in.

And so my lab actually accepts samples from all over North America. And we perform the residue analysis for different areas, looking for those residues of what was being cooked in the past. We’re one of the very few labs that is able to take these as contract samples. Otherwise, you have to usually have like a personal relationship with an academic, which is complicated with university systems.

Crystal Dozier 22:56

The benefit of doing this is not only that we get to know more about the archaeological record, but I employ students to work with me on these projects. So, students, we have undergraduates and Master’s students who work, are employed in the lab, who are paid to do this research. And this is a companion to the kind of work that they’re doing as part of their educational journey. Right. So they’re learning it in the classroom and do a lot of independent studies.

All of my Master’s students have an independent thesis or research project that may or may not, you know, intersect here. But this allows us to support their work better and aid our understanding of the history. In turn, this allows the lab to be stocked for those student projects. And so almost all of these experiments that I’ve spoken about have included students. So, the pumpkin man experiment was the work of an entire class, that we took it on as a class project. I mentioned Riley Muncher is the Master’s student who worked on the Mesquite bean pod beer. So, this affords the lab the ability to do these experiments on the academic side as well. And this in turn is something that we want to ensure is available to the public.

We do a fair amount of events with our more public facing parts of the university. This is everything from public lectures. I was invited down last year, down to the Wichita and Affiliated Tribes, who is the ancestral population to a lot of the archaeological work I’m doing here in Kansas now. And they asked me to speak about what are the foodways of the Wichita and the archaeological record before the modern moment. And so I think those are really important conversations to have about what are traditional food ways, what are the forgotten food products that have really complex interactions with health and well-being.

And so, this is something I do in the classroom, but also to the public, whether it’s school groups coming to visit, or working with our art museum on campus about how do artists interact with food and what do we know about the history of it. I like to support as much of this public facing as possible and do it through avenues like this podcast and open access publishing. We talk about how hard it is in the ivory tower to get our research out there. And so whenever it’s possible, I try to make sure that our research is available freely to the public, like the pumpkin leather mat article is open online for anyone to read anywhere all over the world.

Sarah Kernan 25:54

I love how all of this feeds into itself. And you’re really supporting, through this lab, all these different really important groups and constituencies, and it’s all serving this greater purpose of both researching and garnering interest from students and the public, as well as other academics. I think that’s just so important and really great that there’s this locus on your campus for that sort of activity.

I have a final question. Let’s say someone is listening to this podcast right now and they’re thinking, oh my goodness, I would absolutely love to use all these different archaeological methods to learn more about foods in the past, but I have no idea where to start. What do you recommend, whether they’re an undergraduate student who’s maybe looking for a major, or they’re an interpreter at a historic site, or a scholar at an institution who is looking to incorporate archaeology into their bag of research tricks? What would you recommend?

Crystal Dozier 27:04

Right. So, I’ll start this with a piece of advice I love to start when talking with the general public. And it’s that our relationship with food as human beings has so dramatically changed in the last 20 years, the last 50 years, the last 100 years, the last 1,000 years. So, one technique or avenue or trick that I really enjoy is when you are sitting down to a meal or if you’re in the grocery store, try to identify or look up, just real quickly, you can just Google it, where does that food come from? Where is its origins? And I think a lot of folks don’t realize the complex histories of so many of these food products.

You know, we think of tomatoes as an essential part of pasta sauce in Italian cuisine. But tomatoes come from Mesoamerica and were considered very questionable to European tastes in the early colonial period. And not only looking at where is it, where is the origin of this food, but also what did it look like prior to domestication? Over 90% of the food we eat today has been fully domesticated and managed under human horticultural and agricultural practices.

Again, a quick Google will show you what is the archaeological record of what did this food start as? And it’s absolutely mind boggling. Look up bananas. Wild. Humans did things to these foods that has absolutely changed the landscape of our globe. And I think if you start there, of what did this food actually look like and how have humans transformed it? And you know, you can then apply that if you’re working in a particular context.

What does this narrative actually look like? What would have meant to do the dishes in this society? How would you have cleaned them? Something as simple as that. It’s not going in the dishwasher. Are you using a brush? What is the brush made out of? This kind of exploration and imagination, I think, is really crucial to the archaeological process. You really have to push yourself into what are the boundaries of what we know about the food. And there’s always more to know.

Sarah Kernan 29:34

Crystal, thank you so much for joining me today and for talking a bit about the archaeology of food.

Crystal Dozier 29:41

Of course, anytime.

Sarah Kernan 29:44

Thanks to everyone for listening today. Please remember to subscribe to this podcast so you never miss an episode. I’ll see you again next time on Around the Table.

Sickness Personified: Clandestine Remedies from Colonial Yucatán

By R.A. Kashanipour


I curse you, little seizures! Whose erupting pox are you? Eruptions on the head and body, open eruptions, internal eruptions, fiery eruptions…” [1] So begins a highly ritualized remedy for fever, eruptions, and seizures from late colonial Yucatán. As I noted in my last post, sickness and disease were endemic throughout colonial Latin America and brought together distinct traditions of healing. As this remedy and the dozens of others from the manuscript known as Ritual of the Bacabs show, eighteenth-century Mayas of the Yucatán were not silent victims of disease. Instead, they understood sickness and infirmity as extensions of the natural and human world. They incorporated ancient traditions and firmly rooted healing in colonial context. And, as I would like to note in this post, healers personified and naturalized diseases to bolster their own therapeutic powers.

Before returning to this remedy, I want to touch on the manuscript source and then briefly make note of ancient traditions of Maya healing. Ritual of the Bacabs is a collection of healing incantations, prayers, and remedies written in Yucatec Maya sometime in the eighteenth century. This unique work, which today is held at Princeton University, addresses afflictions common to the colonial world, including pox (kak), difficulty breathing (coc), and difficulty walking (chibal oc). The devastating affects of disease are often noted as seizures (tancas). Several cures associate these outbursts with their origins, such as walking seizures (ah oc tancas), while others ascribe direct ties to the natural world as their sources, including macaw-jaguar seizures (mo balam tancas) and tarantula seizures (chiuoh tancas). The culturally bound ailment often described as madness (coil) regularly appears associated with extreme cases of the pox and seizures.

On the whole, the remedies of the text illustrate the ongoing revision of long-standing Maya traditions in the face of colonial institutions. In particular, in the pre-Hispanic period, infirmity and remediation were associated with the supernatural world and directly tied to the deities Ix Chel and Itzamná. In 1571, Diego de Landa, the second Bishop of Yucatán and infamous crusader against pagan practices, noted Ix Chel’s centrality to healing.

“The physicians and the sorcerers assembled in one of their houses with their wives… they opened bundles of their medicine, in which they kept many little things… little idols of the goddess of medicine, whom they called Ix Chel .”

Diego de Landa, ca. 1570

The two deities, the goddess of the moon and lord of the sun, were bound as husband and wife and mirroring elements of health and sickness.

Ix Chel and Itzamna This rollout image from a classic period pot depicts the goddess Ix Chel (center) caring for an ailing Itzamná (right) and a female healer (left) performing a healing ritual.  The leaves surround the infirmed and bedridden Itzamná most likely represent the purgatives used to induce the deer to vomit. A vulture appears underneath the old god’s bed, just to make clear that his condition is dire.  © Justin Kerr, K2794, www.mayavase.com
Ix Chel and Itzamna
This rollout image from a classic period pot depicts the goddess Ix Chel (center) caring for an ailing Itzamná (right) and a female healer (left) performing a healing ritual. The leaves surround the infirmed and bedridden Itzamná most likely represent the purgatives used to induce the deer to vomit. A vulture appears underneath the old god’s bed, just to make clear that his condition is dire. © Justin Kerr, K2794, www.mayavase.com

During the colonial period, local Church authorities attempted to root out any expressed association with ancient religions. In healing, however, it is clear they were unsuccessful. These deities, who were central to the creation mythology of the Classical Maya, were represented as powerful animistic forces in the healing text. In a remedy for a breathing affliction in Ritual of the Bacabs, both Itzamna and Ix Chel are invoked to harness the use of the powerful cardinal directions. The enchanter is to “for four days, shake the face of the red Ix Chel, the white Ix Chel, the yellow Ix Chel; four days he shakes the face of the red Itzamna.” [3] These supernatural forces figure prominently in the background of numerous remedies. They serve to root the cures in line with ancient traditions, which endured well into the colonial period.

File:Goddess O Ixchel.jpg
Ix Chel with her Rabbit
In this image from a Classic period earthenware polychome vase, a seated Ix Chel appears with her rabbit, which is often identified as one of her animal spirit companions. She appears as a young woman, dressed in the regalia of a noble, complete with headdress. The original object is housed at Museum of Fine Arts Boston and available digitally here.

The remedies of Ritual of the Bacabs represent a clandestine system of ritualized healing that directly built on past Maya practices, such as the invocation of Ix Chel. As a text designed for alienating and eliminating sickness, the curanderos that penned the work most likely identified themselves as a special Maya class of healers known as mak ik or benevolent shamans that controlled healing winds. In this way, they stood in line with ancient traditions, but were fully immersed in colonial experience.

[1] Ritual of the Bacabs, Princeton University Library, Garrett-Gates Collection, Mesoamerican Manuscript No. 1, folio 100.

[2] Diego de Landa and Alfred M. Tozzer, Landa’s Relación De Las Cosas De Yucatan: A Translation. (New York: Kraus, 1966), 154.

[3] Ritual of the Bacabs, folio 65.

“Very good are the words of the wise”: Plagues and Remedies of the Colonial Maya

By R.A. Kashanipour

Early Spanish settlers, administrators, and chroniclers frequently lamented how Old World diseases ravaged native communities in the New World. The famed Dominican Bartolomé de Las Casas described the ferocity of the first epidemics: “Then came a terrible plague, and almost everyone died, and very few remained.”[1] We know much about the devastation, but less about the everyday responses of the victims of disease, especially in the Americas where death and destruction accompanied conquest and colonialism.

In colonial Mexico, native scribes and healers recorded local remedies and cures as they treated populations ravaged by endemic and epidemic sicknesses. During the eighteenth century, a series of anonymous Maya curanderos (folk healers) recorded local ideas of science and medicine in a manuscript titled Tratado de las siete planetas y otro de medicinarium (Treatise on the Seven Planets and another on Medicine). Commonly known as the Chilam Balam de Kaua, this work circulated beliefs and practices about the natural world as it passed among healers. The work synthesized European accounts of astrology with Maya understandings of the ritual calendar.

Title Page of the manuscript known as the Chilam Balam de Kaua. The work derives its name from a sixteenth century Maya shaman known as the Chilam Balam (Jaguar Priest) and the community in which the manuscript was written, Kaua. This image is of a Photostat from 1920 housed at the Library of Congress. The original manuscript is lost.]
Title Page of the manuscript known as the Chilam Balam de Kaua. The work derives its name from a sixteenth century Maya shaman known as the Chilam Balam (Jaguar Priest) and the community in which the manuscript was written, Kaua. This image is of a Photostat from 1920 housed at the Library of Congress. The original manuscript is lost.]

Healers recorded remedies for common afflictions and ailments that reflected the intertwined relationships of the colonizers and colonized. An early passage of the work admonished readers to hold the knowledge with respect and care. “Very good are the words of the wise. [These are] recipes in the Maya language for those Indians that want to understand this medicine. Arte, it is called for those who are sick, also for those that are strong and well. Very good are the words of the wise.” [2]

The healers of the Chilam Balam de Kaua recorded remedies in indigenous terms that often reflected European categories of disease. Cures addressed common illnesses, such as cough (en), cold (sis), fever (chakuil), and periodic epidemic diseases like smallpox (nohoch kak), yellow fever (vómito de sangre), or measles (sarampión). There were remedies for everyday afflictions: headache (chibal pol) and earache (chibal xicin). Others were punctuated with magical intervention, including sorcery (pulbil yaah) and evil flowers (mal floral). Treatments attempted to reduce the aches that welcomed life–childbearing (alancil) and painful swollen breast (ya umil chup)–and the pains that greeted death–bleeding (kik) and cancer (caanzeel). There were remedies to treat the difficulties of manual labor: wounds (cinpahal), swellings (chuchup), and broken bones (sayal bac). In total, the Chilam Balam de Kaua contains over three hundred and thirty remedies.

One of the numerous cures for fevers captures the interaction between Mayan and Spanish knowledge systems.

A remedy for fever (tzacal chacuil) by the ancient people, here is the consumption tree (nech bac che), its other name is fever tree. This is boiled in water to wash people who have a fever. [The affliction] is called weakness (nach bahal) in their language and this is ético in the language of the Spaniards. Then leaves of the plant should be taken with the leaves of the night herb (akab xiu), whose leaves are pleasant smelling. The same amount of leaves are mixed together and boiled until soft. They may be taken [this way]. When the water is half finished, the affirmed may be bathed with the hot water, as hot as can be allowed. Four or five times, this is done… When covered and cool, they may arise to chocolate (cacau) leaves and the night herb… The consumption tree is to be twisted with the chocolate plant.[3]

Fevers were undoubtedly common in colonial Yucatán. As with most Yucatec remedies, the application appeared straightforward and matched symptoms with treatment. The heat of the fever was to be broken with a simmering herbal bath, followed by a concoction of herbs with chocolate.

The record keeper, however, also noted that remedy’s pre-Hispanic origins, establishing a connection to the past. In diagnosing the affliction, however, ancient Maya knowledge linked with contemporary Spanish perspectives. These fevers were called nach bahal or ético and, as such, the remedy could apply to Mayas and Spaniards alike.

The materials for the remedy were exclusively comprised of wild herbs, tying the uncontrolled disease with the unconquered frontier. While most healers may have sourced domesticated plants from herb vendors (yerbateros), this remedy required plants of the forest. The cure required knowledge of Mayan biological landscapes; to produce this remedy, the healer needed access to the untamed frontiers of the province.

This remedy, like so many of colonial Yucatán, showed that “the words of the wise” involved the convergence of distinct traditions in the everyday practices of curing. The Chilam Balam de Kaua and other medicinal manuscripts from colonial Latin America illustrate the localized processes in the production and circulation of medical knowledge in the early modern world.

[1] Bartolomé de Las Casas, Historia de las Indias (México: Fondo de Cultura Economica, 1951) 3: 270.

[2] Chilam Balam de Kaua (photostat reproductions), f. 7, Container 25,Ac. 4056, Indian Languages Collection, Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

[3] Chilam Balam de Kaua, f. 175.