It has been stated that this “sipo” is a root of the sarsaparilla itself, with the bark scraped off; and, indeed, its own root would serve well enough—were it not that putting it to such a use would destroy its medicinal value, and thus cause a considerable waste of the costly material. The sarsaparilla is not to be had for nothing even upon the banks of the Tapajos. A bundle of the best quality does not leave the hands of the Mundrucu until about four dollars’ worth of exchange commodities have been put into them, which would bring the price of it to something over sixpence a pound. He is, therefore, a little particular about wasting a material that has cost him—or rather his wife and children—so much trouble in collecting. His cordage is obtained more cheaply, and consists of the long, flexible roots of a species of pothos, which roots—being what are termed aërial and not buried in the ground—require no labor or digging to get at them. It is only necessary to stretch up the hand, and pull them down from the tops of lofty trees, from which they hang like streamers, often to the length of a hundred feet. These are toughened by the bark being scraped off; and when that is done they are ready for use, and serve not only to tie up the bundles of sarsaparilla, but for many other purposes in the domestic economy of the Mundrucus.
In addition to the sarsaparilla, the Mundrucu furnishes the trader with several other items of commercial value—for his climate, although one of the most unhealthy in all the Amazon region, on account of its great heat and humidity, is for that very reason one of the most fertile. Nearly all those tropical vegetable products which are characteristics of Brazilian export commerce can here be produced of the most luxuriant kind; but it is only those that grow spontaneously at his very doors that tempt the Mundrucu to take the trouble of collecting them.
There is one article, however, which he not only takes some trouble to collect, but also to manufacture into an item of commercial exchange—a very rare item indeed. This is the guarana, which is manufactured from the fruit of a tree almost peculiar to the Mundrucu territory—since nowhere is it found so abundantly as on the Tapajos. It is so prized in the Brazilian settlements as to command almost its weight in silver when transported thither. It is the constituent element of a drink, which has a stimulating effect on the system, somewhat more powerful than tea or coffee. It will prevent sleep; but its most valuable property is, that it is a good febrifuge, equal to the best quinine. Guarana is prepared from the seeds of an inga—one of the Mimosacæ. It is a low, wide-spreading tree like most of the mimosa family. The legumes are gathered, and the seeds roasted in them. The latter are then taken out, and after being ground to powder, are mixed with water so as to make a tough paste, which is moulded into little bricks, and when dried is ready for use. The beverage is then prepared by scraping a table-spoonful of dust from the brick, and mixing it with about a pint of water; and the dry paste, keeping for any length of time, is ready whenever wanted.
The guarana bush grows elsewhere in the Amazon valley, and on some head-waters of the Orinoco, where certain tribes also know how to prepare the drink. But it is sparingly distributed, and is nowhere so common as on the upper Tapajos; hence its high price in the markets of Brazil. The Mundrucu manufactures it, not only for “home use,” but for “exportation.”
He prepares another singular article of luxury, and this he makes exclusively for his own use,—not for the gratification of his lips or palate, but for his nose,—in other words, a snuff. Do not fancy, however, that it is snuff of the ordinary kind—the pulverised produce of innocent tobacco. No such thing; but a composition of such a powerful and stimulating character, that he who inhales it feels as if struck by an electric shock; his body trembles; his eyes start forward as if they would forsake their sockets; his limbs fail to support him; and he drops to the earth like one in a state of intoxication! For a short time he is literally mad; but the fit is soon over,—lasting usually only a few minutes,—and then a feeling of renewed strength, courage, and joyousness succeeds. Such are the consequences of taking snuff with a Mundrucu.
And now to describe the nature of the substance which produces these powerful effects.
Like the guarana this snuff is a preparation, having for its basis the seeds of a leguminous tree. This time, however, it is an acacia, not an inga. It is the acacia niopo; so called because “niopo” is the name given to the snuff itself by certain tribes (the Ottomacs and others), who, like the Mundrucus, are snuff-takers. It is also called curupa, and the apparatus for preparing and taking it—for there is an apparatus of an extensive kind—is termed parica, in the general language (lingoa geral) of the Amazonian regions.
We shall describe the preparation, the apparatus, and the ceremonial.
The pods of the Acacia niopo—a small tree, with very delicate pinnate leaves—are plucked when ripe. They are then cut into small pieces and flung into a vessel of water. In this they remain until macerated, and until the seeds have turned black. These are then picked out, pounded in a mortar, which is usually the pericarp of the sapuçaia, or “monkey-pot” tree (Lecythis ollaria). The pounding reduces them to a paste, which is taken up, clapped between the hands and formed into little cakes—but not until it has been mixed with some manioc flour, some lime from a burnt shell (a helix), and a little juice from the fresh leaves of the “abuta”—a menispermous plant of the genus Cocculus. The cakes are then dried or “barbecued” upon a primitive gridiron—the bars of which are saplings of hard wood—and when well-hardened the snuff is ready for the “box.” In a box it is actually carried—usually one made out of some rare and beautiful shell.
The ceremonial of taking the snuff is the most singular part of the performance. When a Mundrucu feels inclined for a “pinch”—though it is something more than a pinch that he inhales when he does feel inclined—he takes the cake out of the box, scrapes off about a spoonful of it into a shallow, saucer-shaped vessel of the calabash kind, and then spreads the powder all over the bottom of the vessel in a regular “stratification.” The spreading is not performed by the fingers, but with a tiny, pencil-like brush made out of the bristles of the great ant-eater (Myrmecophaga jubata).