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Matias Callone looking for the indigenous people of the Land of Fire on the northern side of the Beagle Channel writes on his homepage:
"I have seen cities that grow at the end of the world invaded by tourists from all parts. The Japanese sitting in one tour-boat showing more enthusiasm eating than looking at the glacier behind the window. I have seen the Germans in loud groups as if they had found sprouting from somewhere the adolecent spirit; or people travelling alone, or in a group ready for everything, their backpacks looking like wagons to get things and more things from.
I have seen forests growing on the mud, steppes decorated with trees, flags, caves, waterfalls, rivers, also the milky kind. One glacier that I walked on, a peat floor where I sank up to my knees, an emerald-coloured lake, a condor flying above my head, a beach with penguins, surprising cities.
I have seen so many things in so many parts, but nowhere have I seen the Yagan people or the Selknam, that are also known as Ona people. Not that I expected to see those people that used to live here for who knows how long in the way that they then did. Because I knew the story of their human tragedy, one of many. But at least I would have liked to feel more present some of the footprints left by them, find a canoe that would not be in a museum, hear some of their words in their language, without it being a recording, see them somehow in their land.
The end of the world, in Ooshooaia, had no sign of them. Their images could be seen painted on walls, as if they were portraits of some ghosts. /.../."
***
While the Yaghan makes its way through the South Patagonian channels and the brave tourists despite the rain gather on the deck to take photos of the glaciers, I converse with Marcus, one of the ferry´s eleven crew members.
The journey takes 30 hours from Punta Arenas to Puerto Williams – the crew spends on board four days of the week – they too are nomads, just as once were those whose name the vessel carries.
Marcus was born in Puerto Williams – he is
Martin´s son, Julia and Popi are his aunt and uncle, Claudia is his sister. Everybody knows the Gonzalez Calderon family -
they are of the Yagan people who since more than 6000 years and till less than
a hundred roamed these waters travelling in wooden canoe-like vessels. Martin knows
how to make those. He made the boat in the museum in Puerto Williams and in
Wulaia, both much smaller than the original ones. His brother Popi once showed me the one he was carving in the
woods of Mejillones - it was at least
twice the size.
Before
the coming of the missionaries the Yagans used no clothing, lived from hunting
and gathering, had their own language and belief system strongly related to
nature, especially the birds. Later came…later.
This boat is huge – we are carrying some 200 tons of goods – there are several trucks with cooling systems to export the delicious king-crab from the White Land fishery. Everything that the town of Puerto Williams needs is on this boat – the supermarkets, the restaurants, the construction companies, the municipality and the government – tomorrow everyone will gather to unload – all of us in Williams depend on the supplies that the Yaghan carries.
As I write this, I look at old photographs
decorating the Yaghan´s dining room.
Everything these people needed fit perfectly into those tiny vessels.
What did they need? Clothing, which the Christians made them wear didn´t go with the lifestyle, got wet and made many sick - back then the all-weather brands had not been invented
yet. I guess the Yagans needed freedom
to live their lives as they chose fit; food which they themselves knew how to
harvest with the tools they knew how to make; shelters they knew how to build
out of branches; and most importantly their families – the only accepted and
respected system for the Yagans, a bond which could never be undone or
separated. No authority, no one to make decisions for them, no dependency on
no-one but themselves and the nature.
Isn´t it a paradox, I think, when I look at
Marcus – he continues true to the form of life of his people working on that
boat which ironically so carries the name of his people. Yet with the Yaghan´s schedule today, despite
the comfort and security that his job provides, he barely sees his family. He does not speak the Yagan language and wears
a uniform with the company´s logo that he works for.
Those who fight for the Yagan people´s rights
and ache for the loss of their culture and values, don´t think that they had a
choice, blame the missionaries, blame the army who in 1930s forbid the indigenous families to use
their vessels and practice their most important rituals, in 1960s forced the
kids to go to school, made the group move to the city – all are valid and strong
arguments.
I listen and look at the horizon. That is what
we know, because that is what we have been told by those who stayed. But what
about those who went away – no-one ever saw them again, no-one knows where they
went and how they live today. I believe they must be somewhere, perhaps mixed
with a Polynesian culture, or other, or on their own… The white man´s truth will always be
subjective, based on a sample he has studied and generalized to make him
believe it as a fact, telling his-story, calling it history.
Free
people to whom the distances, the cold temperatures and the sea were of no
limit – don´t you think they could have left? – I asked the museum director the
other day.
Without any empirical proof, I actually believe
that at least some of them did.
May the Yagans working for the Yaghan have
their dignity looking at the past without regret, just as well as those who are
no more called Yagans and live somewhere far away from here. One and the other true
to their nomadic form, while the imaginary pendulum swings between the values
and organization of “Yagan” and “Yaghan”, questioning the definition and meaning of
progress and development.
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| Photo by: Yoshi Onami |
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