INSTITUTE OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY— PUBLICATION NO. 10 



I left for Bolivia on September 28, 1940, and 

 arrived in the field on November 28, 1940. Be- 

 tween November 28, 1940, and May 17, 1941, 

 I worked with informants of various bands of 

 Siriono who had been gathered together in a 

 Bohvian Government Indian school at Casarabe, 

 a kind of mixed village of Indians and Bolivians, 

 situated about 40 miles east of Trinidad, capital 

 of the Department of the Beni. At the time of 

 my stay this so-called school had a population 

 of about 325 Indians. 



Following my residence m Casarabe, where I 

 became grounded in the Lidian language and 

 those aspects of the aboriginal cultiire that still 

 persisted there, I left in May 1941, to join a band 

 of about 60 Siriono who were living under some- 

 what more primitive conditions near the Rio 

 Blanco on a coc5,o plantation, called Chiquiguani, 

 which was at that time a land of branch of the 

 above-mentioned school. Upon arriving at Chi- 

 quiguani, however, I found that as a result of 

 altercations with the Bolivians, the Indians had 

 dispersed into the forest, and so I encountered 

 no people with whom to work. Consequently, 

 I returned to a ranch near the village of El 

 Carmen. There I was fortunate in meeting an 

 American cattle rancher, Frederick Park Richards, 

 since deceased, who had resided in the area for 

 many years and who had a number of Siriono 

 living on his farm and cattle ranch. Through 

 him I was presented to a Bolivian, Luis SQva 

 Sanchez, a first-rate bushnian and explorer for 

 the aforementioned school, who offered to be my 

 companion and who stayed with me during most 

 of the time that I lived and wandered with the 

 Siriono. In company with SUva I set out in 

 search of the Indians who had dispersed into the 

 forest. After about 10 days they were located, 

 and they agreed to settle on the banks of the Rio 

 Blanco, about 2 or 3 days' jom-ney up the river by 

 canoe from the village of El Carmen, at a place 

 which we founded and named Tibaera, the Indian 

 word for assaf palm, the site being so designated 

 because of the abundance of this tree found there. 

 I spent from July 15 to August 28, 1941, at 

 Tibaera, continuing my general cultural and 

 linguistic studies, but under what I regarded as 

 imsatisfactory conditions, since I had previously 

 laid my plans and devoted my energies to acquu-ing 

 techniques for observing a group of Siriono who 

 had had little or no previous contact. Conse- 



quently, I suggested to SUva that we go in search 

 of other Indians. Finally, on August 28, 1941, 

 I set out from Tibaera, in company with SUva 

 and parts of two extended families of Indians 

 (21 people in all), traveling east and south through 

 the raw bush in the general direction of the 

 Franciscan Missions of Guarayos, where we were 

 told by the Indians that we might locate another 

 band who had had Httle or no previous contact. 

 After 8 days of rough travel, much of which 

 involved passing thi-ough swamps and through 

 an area which had long been abandoned by the 

 Siriono, we joyously arrived at a section of high 

 groimd containing relatively recent remains of a 

 Siriono camp site. My Indian companions told 

 me that this site had been occupied by a small 

 number of Indians who had come there in quest of 

 calabashes about three "moons" earlier. 



Inspired by the hope of soon locating a primitive 

 band, we silenced our guns and lived by hunting 

 with the bow and arrow so as not to frighten any 

 Indians that might be within earshot of a gun. 

 We followed the rude trails which had been made 

 by the Indians about 3 months earher, and after 

 passing many abandoned huts, each one newer 

 than the last, we finally an-ived at midday on the 

 eleventh day of march just outside of a village. 

 On the advice of our Indian companions, Silva 

 and I removed most of our clothes, so as not to 

 be too conspicuous in the otherwise naked party — 

 I at least had quite a tan — and leaving behind our 

 gims and all supplies except a couple of baskets 

 of roast peccary meat, which we were saving as a 

 peace gesture, we sandwiched ourselves in between 

 our Indian guides and made a hasty entrance into 

 the communal hut. The occupants, who were 

 enjoying a midday siesta, were so taken by sur- 

 prise that we were able to start talking to them 

 in their own language before they could grasp 

 their weapons or flee. Moreover, as their interest 

 almost unmediately settled on the baskets of 

 peccary meat, we felt secure within a few moments' 

 time and sent back for the rest of oiu- supphes. 



Once having established contact with such a 

 group, I had intended to settle down or wander 

 with them for several months, or until I could 

 complete my studies. I was forced, however, to 

 abandon this plan when, after being with them for 

 a day or two, I came down with an infection in 

 my eyes of such gravity that I was almost blinded. 

 Fearing that this infection would spread to a point 



