CHAPTER II 

 TRIBAL HEROES 



Alubiri or Hubuiri; Hariwali and the Wonderful Tree (S-8); The Story of Haburi 

 (9-18). Kororomanna: his Adventures (79-25). Makunaima and Pia ; or, the Sun, the 

 . Frog, and the Firesticks — Warrau version (29-34), Carib version (35-38), Makusi 

 version (59-47). Amalivaca (#)■ 



3. Some of the m^'thic Heroes have a history peculiarly their 

 o\\ai, of which it is now proposed to give a few particulars. 



I will begm with Alubu-i, or Hubuiri, for whom HUhouse, as 

 already stated (Sect. 2), found a place in the Arawak cosmogony, 

 a view which Schomburgk indorsed, with a reference to him, however, 

 as one "who does not trouble himself about men." In Brett's time, 

 however, and at the present day, throughout the Pomeroon district, 

 the Hero seemingly appears only under the name Haburi. The 

 Pomeroon Warrau now claim Haburi as their particular Hero, in just 

 the same way as Brett (BrB,76) did for them under the name Abore. 

 For my owti part I suspect that the term Alubiri is but another 

 form of the name Oruperi, the mythical Carib snake (Sect. 235), 

 which gave rise to all the hunting binas, and that Haburi has some 

 philological connection with Yaperi-Kuli, the Hero (Sect. 4^) of 

 the Siusi branch of the Arawak stock. It is onl}- for the reason 

 that an old Arawak friend identified Hariwah (cf. ArawaniU, Sect. 

 185) with Haburi — an identity which I admittedly can neither 

 confirm nor challenge — that I propose beginning with these mythic 

 Heroes by introducmg the story of — 



Hariwali and the Wonderful Tree (A) 



Hariwali was a clever, painstaking piai, who spent most of his time in clearing the 

 field for his two wives. These two women, their children, and his brother lived 

 with him at his house. While felling the timber, the wive." undertook, turn andtum 

 about, to bring their husband some cassiri daily. It happened now that while 

 carr>-ing the usual refreshment one of the waves was met by the brother-in-law, who 

 was bringing in some itiriti strands to weave baskets with. "Hullo! " he said, "where 

 are you going?" to which he received reply, "I am taking cassiri to my husband in 

 the field. — But I like you. Do you like me?" "No, I don't," he answered, "and 

 even if I did, my brother, being a medicine-man, would find it out very soon." 

 She tried him again, and tempted him sorely, and then she threw her arms round him. 

 He was but mortal. . . . She assured him that her husband would never find out 

 what had happened, and both went their respective ways. Before she reached the 

 field, however, she broke the calabash; then with a pointed stick she cut her knee, 

 causing it to bleed. Wten Hariwali saw her coming slowly along with a limp 

 carrj-ing the broken calabash, he asked her what had happened. All she could do 

 was to point to the scratch and blood on her lame knee, and tell him that she had 

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