Panama's Kuna and the Perils of Modernity
by Annie Saint-Amand
“No one is here forever, I know that I’m going to die. I would like to leave all that I know to the new generation. I want to leave ideas so that everyone will benefit from them."
—Kuna Cacique Enrique Guerrero
It was early in the morning when we arrived by plane on the small island of Ukupseni, home to a growing community of Kuna Indians along the Caribbean coast of Panama. Children with big smiles and red cheeks welcomed us, saying “Igi be nuga?” I quickly learned the answer: “An o Annie nuga.” I must have told my name to more than a hundred children in the morning of my first day.
After the children swarmed us, women shyly approached, curious to see who we were and why we had come. On this unbearably hot January morning, the Saila, or head of the community, had informed the villagers that students from Canada would be arriving. “They come to Ukupseni to study and learn. Do not treat them as tourists,” he told them, recommending that they not try to sell us molas, the famous colorful blouse panels used by women in their traditional dress and sold as crafts. Usually, tourists just come here on day trips to buy molas and take pictures while staying in resorts on other islands. It was unusual for the villagers to see a group of young people from North America debarking—without cameras—and staying with families on the island for a week.
Along with a group of fellow McGill University students, I was attending the first-ever seminar on Kuna culture and conservation offered by Dobbo Yala, a nonprofit organization run by indigenous Kuna leaders of different communities. Soon after meeting my host family and putting my backpack away, I was invited to sit down on a small log. The smell of the island was overwhelming: a mix of seawater, tropical flowers, and farmyards. Without saying a word, one woman started painting a fine black line of vegetal ink on my nose. Neighbors came to observe in silence, smiling. I was captivated by the colors of the women’s dresses, their gold nose rings, and the millions of colored beads wrapped around their wrists and ankles. When the woman finished painting my nose, she explained that female visitors get body paint as a welcome gesture. It felt like paradise.
Ukupseni is a triangular-shaped island located in the center of the Comarca (territory) of Kuna Yala, about half a kilometer from the coast and surrounded by a dozen smaller islands planted with coconut trees. The seabed around the island is covered with prominent coral formations stretching for miles. Later on during our first day, we met Heraclio Lopez and Aurelio Chiari, members of Dobbo Yala and coordinators of the McGill–Ukupseni venture. They walked us through the narrow, sandy streets of their community. Thatched-roof houses stood close together with occasional patches of coconut trees along the way. Houses on the shore had wooden piers in front where dugout canoes were parked. The island was clearly overcrowded, and the number of children was astounding. Aurelio explained that his community had grown so much in the past years that they’ve made space by adding rocks and coral rubble to the shore. More than half of the island population of 2,300 people is under ten years old.
After being filled with admiration for this newly met culture on that first morning, I soon became disenchanted by the sights of rusted tin cans, discarded juice boxes, used batteries, old plastic containers, and rotting garbage piled up beside houses and on the seashore. As an amateur bird watcher, I was on the lookout for new bird species but only saw grackles (Quiscalus sp.). I soon realized that no spectacular wildlife was to be found on this island. My romantic image of Kuna being custodians of nature, living sustainably amid lush tropical vegetation where wildlife thrives, was beginning to fade.
I would discover that the Kuna indeed have boundless respect for all living creatures surrounding them, and that their knowledge of plants and animals is tremendous. But entering the market economy has been disastrous for the Kuna—and their surrounding ecosystems—on many levels.
The Rule of Kuna
The majority of Kuna live on 50 islands, although 11 communities are located on the mainland. The Kuna have long been trying to resist forces from the outside in order to keep their culture unaltered. Since the arrival of the Europeans, they have maintained partial geographic isolation with respect to foreign societies. In 1925, the Kuna rebelled against the abuses of the colonial police in what was known as the Dule Revolution. In 1953, Panama recognized the independence of the Comarca of Kuna Yala—also known as San Blas—a territory that comprises almost 1,250 square miles across more than 365 adjacent islands and the mainland.
Since becoming the first indigenous group to obtain authority over their land in Central America, the Kuna have ruled according to their cultural beliefs with minimal interference from the Panamanian government. Well known around the world for their active role in conservation, the Kuna, like other native groups, have well-developed religious beliefs concerning nature and wildlife. In the past, rituals, ceremonies, and prohibitions regulated the use of natural resources. The songs and stories that are still part of the traditional meetings of the community congress almost always make reference to the respect for, and conservation of, nature.
The Kuna also have places in nature that are sacred sanctuaries of plants and animals. These are known as Galu, and no one is allowed to disturb them. The Galu are the equivalent of our national parks or reserves where any harmful activities, such as hunting or destroying plants, are prohibited. For Kuna, respecting these sanctuaries is part of their religious beliefs. Galu are usually situated close to human settlements and on fertile lands. Kuna believe that even breaking a branch of a Galu tree can bring bad luck and epidemics to the surrounding villages. Protecting the forest, in turn, protects people.
Due to their strong belief system, applied conservation actions, and well-organized political structure, the Kuna were able to conserve the jungles of their territory for many years. More than half of Kuna Yala’s mainland is still covered with forest. However, the situation started to change in the early 1990s. As their population increased and became less isolated from the rest of the world, the Kuna began altering some of their traditional practices.
Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute (STRI) researcher Jorge Ventocilla has studied the Kuna and worked with different communities for more than ten years. Since completing a Master’s degree thesis on subsistence hunting in Kuna communities, he has remained in close contact with several Kuna villages and initiated many community-based environmental education projects in collaboration with other STRI scientists. He argues that Kuna culture has changed markedly since they entered the global market economy, challenging their cultural values regarding conservation. “With time, relationships between community members became oriented more toward money than toward solidarity. Now, the consumer society puts pressure on the Kuna lifestyle and modifies it.”
Elvira Torres, a community leader in the village of Unsup, confirms Ventocilla’s view. “I regret that the Comarca of Kuna Yala is losing its personality,” she says. “We are becoming less unified, we do not see ourselves as a family. Now, it’s all money.”
Garden Hunting
Before entering the market economy, the Kuna lived primarily as subsistence hunters and fishers. Some villages still maintain their traditional ways of life and practice slash-and-burn agriculture and intercrop among trees. Unlike most rural communities in Panama, the Kuna have no cattle ranching—and therefore no need to create permanent pastureland. Most Kuna instead have crop-growing plots along rivers and near the coast. Island-dwelling Kuna often must canoe for several hours to reach their plots on the coast. Bananas and plantains are their main crops, but they also grow corn, sugarcane, rice, and yucca, as well as some medicinal plants and fruit trees.
The agricultural cycle starts with the clearing of trees in December. In March, the remaining vegetation is burned, and in April the land is sowed. Kuna farmland stays crop-free from four to ten years, allowing the forest to grow back and reestablish habitats for wildlife. Gagandi, a community of 34 Kuna families living on the mainland, is an example of people still living as they did in the old days. Jorge Ventocilla conducted research there and discovered that the inhabitants of Gagandi are using resources in a truly sustainable way.
During his research, Ventocilla took part in several hunting trips in Gagandi. Their hunting methods are called garden hunting, or nainu in Kuna. Gagandi farmers, Ventocilla discovered, purposely plant trees around their agricultural plots to attract wildlife, allowing them to hunt within a five-mile radius of the community. Close to Gagandi, collared peccary (Tayassu tajacu), paca (Cuniculus paca), agouti (Dasyprocta punctata), and red brocket deer (Mazama americana) are found, whereas most large mammals have been eliminated close to human settlements in the rest of Panama.
Tapirs, which are the largest forest animals in Central and South America, have been eliminated or are in serious danger of extinction throughout most of their range. However, Baird’s tapir (Tapirus bairdii) tracks are found within minutes of Gagandi, where it feeds on planted mangos and tropical plums (Spondias mombin). White-lipped peccary (Tayasu pecarii) come to feed on the fruits of the West Indian palm trees (Roystonia regia) planted several years ago by a banana company five miles from the village. Native hunters from Embera-Wounaan communities in regions such as the Darien jungles, on the other hand, have to travel one to two weeks to find the nearest tapir or white-lipped peccary.
The abundance of primary forest near the community serves as a nursery for some animals. In Gagandi, some fig trees, which grow to enormous size along the riverbanks, are considered sacred and therefore cannot be cut. Fig leaves and fruits serve as food for green iguanas (Iguana iguana), which are a very important animal in the life of the Kuna. Iguanas are present in Kuna songs, in their legends, in the chants recited in ceremony, and, of course, in their diet.
Two other important factors favor rich wildlife resources in Gagandi: The selling of wild game is prohibited—which is not the case in most regions of Kuna Yala—and sharing meat among community members is the norm. “Sharing promotes a perception of collective ownership of the forest wildlife and avoids overexploitation,” says Ventocilla.
Life in a Global Economy
Unfortunately, the Gagandi lifestyle has now become the exception rather than the rule. Most Kuna communities look more like crowded Ukupseni today. “The truth is that today we are beginning to see more clearly the products of an explosion of western alienation that has arrived with the force of an electrical storm and has mortally wounded the Kuna identity,” proclaims Kuna poet Arysteides Turpana.
The monetary economy has reshaped old ways of extracting resources and exchanging goods. Barter exchanges no longer exist. Subsistence agriculture has vanished, as new practices are oriented toward commercial crops. Overfishing and excessive harvesting of wildlife has harmed animal populations. Water contamination is uncontrolled. Deforestation is also becoming a serious problem. The coconut trade with Colombia—a key source of income for the Kuna—has encouraged the conversion of islands and important coastal mangrove habitat into coconut monocultures, according to Ventocilla.
Threats to biodiversity arrive by sea as well as by land. The diet of island-living Kuna is based mainly on fish and other sea products. Thirty years ago, Kuna ate lobster at least three times a week. Now, there is no more lobster in their diet. Instead, the lobster has become Kuna Yala’s primary export. Over the last ten years, their territory has been overfished, and spiny lobsters (Panulirus spp.) are on the verge of extirpation.
Lobstering in Kuna Yala requires both endurance and daring, exposing divers to shark attacks and maladies such as headaches or ear and skin infections. Lobsters are sold to intermediaries for $3.50 per pound and then resold in the fanciest restaurants of Panama City, Miami, and Madrid for $18 to $20 per pound. A diver, on average, earns $175 per month, which scarcely satisfies his basic needs or those of his family.
Since the early 1980s, flights to export lobsters have increased, becoming daily seven years ago. Older lobstermen remember that in the past they could catch up to 40 lobsters a day. Today, divers are lucky to catch seven or eight. “The Kuna are killing their lobsters to satisfy consumers outside the Comarca, while the Kuna diver is left with relatively little to show for his efforts,” says Olaidi, a Kuna researcher and writer. “The Kuna themselves have no idea how many lobsters they have sold. Lobsters are caught and sold regardless of their size, sex, or reproductive state.”
Unfortunately, lobsters are not the only ocean creatures suffering from overexploitation. According to Olaidi, the Kuna government has also been unable to stop the overexploitation of marine turtles. Four marine turtle species are found in the region: the hawksbill turtle (Erithrochelys imbricata), green turtle (Chelonia mydas), loggerhead turtle (Carretta carretta), and olive ridley turtle (Lepidochelys olivacea). Each of these species is classified by the World Conservation Union (IUCN) as either endangered or critically endangered.
In the month of May, marine turtles come to lay their eggs on beaches in Kuna Yala. In the past, the Kuna never killed turtles and were allowed to take only half of all eggs layed. Eating turtle meat used to be taboo, proscribed by tradition because it was believed to cause tuberculosis and harm the spirit. However, the Kuna have begun to include turtle meat in their diet. The demand for turtle shells and eggs in the international market has also increased. Attracted by the enticing profits that can be made with marine turtles, Kuna fishermen sell them on the black market. The entire animal is worth $10, while the meat is sold for 50 cents a pound. “Turtles are taken with machetes, lines, and government boats, without regard for traditional taboos,” says Olaidi.
“Sea turtle meat and eggs are consumed by communities throughout the Caribbean region, while products are made from turtle parts, including oil, cartilage, skin, and shell," says TRAFFIC North America director Simon Habel. "Hawksbill shell products continue to be sold at tourist centers, including international airports, in violation of national laws. Marine turtles are highly migratory species, and overexploitation and illegal trade by the other countries in the region can easily foil significant conservation progress made in some countries.”
It is difficult to know who or what is to blame for the loss of wildlife species in Kuna Yala. According to the director of the Center for the Support of Native Lands, Mac Chapin, the market economy changed the Kuna’s lifestyle, and, as a result, the environment has suffered. Nevertheless, he thinks that the Kuna alone can reverse the trends. “It is the Kuna who continue to steal eggs from the dwindling numbers of turtles intent on reproducing; it is the Kuna who loot the coral reefs with their spear guns and turn them into submarine deserts; it is the Kuna who are neglecting their responsibilities,” he says. “The Kuna and only the Kuna have the power to restore the balance of their small corner of the world.”
For Olaidi, the solutions are not so obvious. “Divers are aware of the decline of wildlife and are willing to cooperate if there are new regulations; however, they have families and are committed to an occupation that pays immediately, in cash.”
Roots and Resources
The need for a strategy to preserve traditional ways of life and encourage sustainable development in Kuna Yala first emerged in the 1980s, when the Kuna General Congress created a nature reserve on the mainland to protect its "back door" from the creeping deforestation caused by the construction of the Pan American Highway and adjacent roads. Roads elsewhere have facilitated the establishment of settlers and peasants from the central provinces of the country and have altered traditional ways of life. University of Kansas geographer Peter Herlihy showed that after part of the Pan American Highway was constructed, the indigenous people of the jungles of Darien abandoned their accustomed cycle of agriculture and forest regeneration and shifted to more marketable but less sustainable crops.
One factor may help the Kuna preserve their natural heritage. “The situation is not so serious as it is in the Amazon basin,” says Jorge Ventocilla, “because the Kuna own their land. No one who is not Kuna may own land or resources in Kuna Yala.” The Kuna set aside nearly 400 square miles of virgin rainforest and coral reefs in adjacent waters for management and strict supervision, becoming the first indigenous group in Latin America to manage a protected area. In 1993, the Government of Panama approved the Project for the Study and Management of Wilderness Areas of Kuna Yala (PEMASKY), coordinated through the National Institute for Renewable Natural Resources. A biodiversity inventory is also being completed.
The Kuna were supposed to manage the project, using their traditional knowledge of the ecology to ensure the reserve was functioning. It was to be a model of cooperation between science and tradition, with research stations staffed by scientifically trained Kuna guided by traditional elders and contracted experts from outside the Comarca. However, PEMASKY has encountered a series of problems integrating science and tradition, argues Mac Chapin. For starters, the PEMASKY research team is based mainly in the bureaucratic world of Panama City, rather than on Kuna land. Another problem is that the Kuna who are involved in scientific research and park management are ignorant of traditions and often do not possess the background needed to understand them.
According to Chapin, the Kuna have become culturally fragmented as a result of Western education. Children go to school instead of learning to hunt, fish, farm, and track. Kynyapiler, a Kuna economist, argues that Western education is a double-edged sword. “Education can help, but in many ways it has deformed us. We started to adapt to the Western lifestyles, especially younger people,” he says. “To have sustainable development, we would need to revive our roots, our philosophy, and regain our intimate knowledge of the environment.”
To help Kuna children gain some of the ancient knowledge, Jorge Ventocilla has initiated an environmental education project: the Children’s Art Festival of Kuna Yala. Once a year, artists and leaders of different communities meet with children to communicate the traditional approach to nature conservation. Children are allowed to express their personal outlook on environmental issues surrounding them in their own communities. During a weekend, they create art works that illustrate what they know and what they have learned with the Kuna leaders.
According to Mac Chapin, indigenous peoples’ efforts to regain their cultural compassion toward nature conservation is crucial. “If any people, among all of the indigenous groups in Central America, have a chance of coming to terms with their spiritual self and regaining control of their behavior, that would be the Kuna,” he says.
As I stand on the airstrip in Ukupseni, waiting for the plane that will bring me back to Panama City, I think to myself that nobody is born an ecologist. However, the Kuna have the necessary cultural values to succeed in their small part of the global effort to protect the environment.
While we board the plane to head home, villagers wave at us, saying “Degi malo” (see you later)—as if they hoped, like us, that this was just the beginning.
MORE! Discover Panama
—A native of Qubec, Annie Saint-Amand is a former intern at ZooGoer.
ZooGoer 30(6) 2001. Copyright 2001 Friends of the National Zoo. All rights reserved.
