346 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 195 7 



from the casimba itself troughs are set up from which goats, sheep, 

 donkeys, and cattle drink, and bateas, or wooden basins, are filled 

 with water in which clothes are washed and small children are bathed. 

 (PI. 3, figs. 1 and 2.) After the people have slaked their thirst and 

 that of their animals, and have bathed and washed their clothes, 

 they load their donkeys with great jars of water to be used at home, 

 often many kilometers away. The places of those who leave are 

 taken by those newly arriving, and the lively pageant continues 

 throughout the day. Similar scenes are enacted around the springs 

 or oases of the Sahara and Arabia. 



The grim struggle for the barest existence — for mere survival — is 

 to be observed in the life of plants and animals as well as in the life 

 of man. Many trees and shrubs are thorned, or of bitter taste or 

 pungent smell, as a protection against enemies, and most of them are 

 scantly leaved and of thick bark, in order to conserve all the moisture 

 possible. The struggle of man with his environment is no less grim. 

 When the drought is sore upon the land, and food supplies dwindle 

 rapidly with no possibility of immediate replenishment, small children 

 rove the sectors of flat-leaved cactus, the fruits of which they knock 

 off into gourd bowls with sticks. When the bowls are filled they 

 empty them on the ground and roll them about with twigs and thus 

 remove the protecting tufts of tiny fine spines. All day long the 

 children gorge themselves on the luscious fruit and in the evening they 

 take their sacks and containers to their homes, where the parents 

 eke out their frugal meal with these fruits. The fruits not eaten raw 

 are peeled and cooked and placed in large earthen jars to ferment 

 and form chicha, a drink highly prized by the Guajiros. 



Over the centuries poor children have often been bribed or forcibly 

 caught by so-called civilized people to be sold into slavery. Hence 

 their parents warn them to be wary of strangers, and fill their tender 

 minds with horror tales about kidnapings, actual or invented; the 

 vivid imaginations of the children invest these accounts with all sorts 

 of fiendish overtones. The result is that when a stranger comes upon 

 these children in the bush, they frequently take to their heels and 

 flee like wild animals. This happened on one occasion when at our 

 approach four children were surprised gathering cactus fruits. Two 

 of them took off through the scrub like rabbits and were not seen 

 again. The two others had left their fiber bags and gourd shells 

 of fruit near the road, and, fearful of losing their prizes, they stopped 

 a few hundred yards away and looked back. The kindly, tactful 

 interpreter was gradually able to convince them that we meant no 

 harm. Little by little these two urchins, burnt black by the broiling 

 sun of this part of the world, and ready to fly at the slightest false 

 move on our part, edged back to their belongings and talked to the in- 



