leave my body down by the riverside so the capybaras will eat me,â his wife confirmed. She laughed. She wasnât afraid but, rather, seemed to be making mock of us.
I asked Tasurinchi why he so badly wanted his wife to bear a child. It wasnât the child he cared about; he was worried about her. âIsnât it strange that all her children are born dead?â he said. He asked her again in front of me: âYou pushed them out dead because you drank a brew?â She repeated what she had said to me: âI donât remember.â âSometimes I think sheâs not a woman but a she-devil, a sopai,â Tasurinchi confessed to me. Itâs not just because of this business about children that he thinks sheâs got a different sort of soul. Itâs also all those bracelets, necklaces, headdresses, and ornaments she wears. And itâs true. Iâve never seen anyone with so many things on their body or on their cushma. Who knows how she can walk with all that weighing her down? âLook at what sheâs got on now,â Tasurinchi said. He made the woman come close and pointed: seed bangles, rows of necklaces of partridge bones, capybara teeth, monkey femurs, majaz fangs, caterpillar skins, and many other things I canât remember. âShe says the necklaces protect her from the bad sorcerer, the machikanari,â Tasurinchi told me. âBut sometimes, looking at her, it seems more likely sheâs a machikanari herself, concocting a spell against someone.â She laughed and said she didnât think she was a witch or a she-devil, but only a woman, just like the others.
Tasurinchi wouldnât mind being by himself if he killed his wife. âRather that than go on living with someone who can steal every last piece of my soul,â he explained. But I thought that wouldnât happen, since according to what the seripigari found out in the trance, the child would be born walking this time. âMaybe thatâs how it will be,â I heard his wife say, laughing uproariously without raising her eyes from the strands of cotton. They are well, both of them. Walking. Tasurinchi gave me this little net woven of wild cotton fibers. âTo catch fish with,â he said. He also gave me some cassava and maize. âArenât you afraid to journey alone?â he asked me. âWe Machiguengas always go through the forest in company, because of what we might meet on the way.â âI have company, too,â I said. âCanât you see my little parrot?â âParrot, parrot,â the little parrot repeated.
I told all this to Tasurinchi, the one who used to live by the Mitaya and now lives in the forest up the Yavero. Lost in thought, reflecting, he commented: âI donât understand it. Is he afraid his wife is a sopai because she pushes out dead children? The women here must be she-devils too, then, because they give birth not only to dead babies but to toads and lizards as well sometimes. Who has taught that a woman is a bad witch because she wears many necklaces? It is a teaching unknown to me. The machikanari is an evil sorcerer because he serves the breather-out of demons, Kientibakori, and because the kamagarinis, who are his little devils, help him prepare spells, just as the seripigari, who is a good sorcerer, is helped by the little gods that Tasurinchi breathed out to cure evils, to undo spells, and to discover the truth. But both the machikanaris and the seripigaris wear necklaces, as far as I know.â
At that, the women burst out laughing. It couldnât be true that they push out dead babies, for there was an ant-heap of little ones, there in that hut by the Yavero. âThere are many mouths,â Tasurinchi complained. Before, by the Mitaya, fish always fell into the nets, even though the land wasnât good for growing cassava. But where heâs settled now, far up one of the streams that empty into the Yavero,
I asked Tasurinchi why he so badly wanted his wife to bear a child. It wasnât the child he cared about; he was worried about her. âIsnât it strange that all her children are born dead?â he said. He asked her again in front of me: âYou pushed them out dead because you drank a brew?â She repeated what she had said to me: âI donât remember.â âSometimes I think sheâs not a woman but a she-devil, a sopai,â Tasurinchi confessed to me. Itâs not just because of this business about children that he thinks sheâs got a different sort of soul. Itâs also all those bracelets, necklaces, headdresses, and ornaments she wears. And itâs true. Iâve never seen anyone with so many things on their body or on their cushma. Who knows how she can walk with all that weighing her down? âLook at what sheâs got on now,â Tasurinchi said. He made the woman come close and pointed: seed bangles, rows of necklaces of partridge bones, capybara teeth, monkey femurs, majaz fangs, caterpillar skins, and many other things I canât remember. âShe says the necklaces protect her from the bad sorcerer, the machikanari,â Tasurinchi told me. âBut sometimes, looking at her, it seems more likely sheâs a machikanari herself, concocting a spell against someone.â She laughed and said she didnât think she was a witch or a she-devil, but only a woman, just like the others.
Tasurinchi wouldnât mind being by himself if he killed his wife. âRather that than go on living with someone who can steal every last piece of my soul,â he explained. But I thought that wouldnât happen, since according to what the seripigari found out in the trance, the child would be born walking this time. âMaybe thatâs how it will be,â I heard his wife say, laughing uproariously without raising her eyes from the strands of cotton. They are well, both of them. Walking. Tasurinchi gave me this little net woven of wild cotton fibers. âTo catch fish with,â he said. He also gave me some cassava and maize. âArenât you afraid to journey alone?â he asked me. âWe Machiguengas always go through the forest in company, because of what we might meet on the way.â âI have company, too,â I said. âCanât you see my little parrot?â âParrot, parrot,â the little parrot repeated.
I told all this to Tasurinchi, the one who used to live by the Mitaya and now lives in the forest up the Yavero. Lost in thought, reflecting, he commented: âI donât understand it. Is he afraid his wife is a sopai because she pushes out dead children? The women here must be she-devils too, then, because they give birth not only to dead babies but to toads and lizards as well sometimes. Who has taught that a woman is a bad witch because she wears many necklaces? It is a teaching unknown to me. The machikanari is an evil sorcerer because he serves the breather-out of demons, Kientibakori, and because the kamagarinis, who are his little devils, help him prepare spells, just as the seripigari, who is a good sorcerer, is helped by the little gods that Tasurinchi breathed out to cure evils, to undo spells, and to discover the truth. But both the machikanaris and the seripigaris wear necklaces, as far as I know.â
At that, the women burst out laughing. It couldnât be true that they push out dead babies, for there was an ant-heap of little ones, there in that hut by the Yavero. âThere are many mouths,â Tasurinchi complained. Before, by the Mitaya, fish always fell into the nets, even though the land wasnât good for growing cassava. But where heâs settled now, far up one of the streams that empty into the Yavero,
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