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Kim — University of Nebraska Press / Page 148 / / Of Passionate Curves and Desirable Cadences / George Mentore 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 [First Page] [148], (1) Lines: 0 to 32 ——— 0.717pt PgVar ——— Normal Page PgEnds: TEX [148], (1) The Hidden Hazard of Generosity The Gift from Poniko-yim We heard shepurï, the howler monkey. His aged cough cracked the canopy in prelude to an immense aria. Then, like a hollow wind, his prolonged plea took up air and surged in one single breath through the trees. In tones of primordial delight, his monstrous voice, his terrifying roar, obliterated our self-aggrandized esteem. We looked up and saw him. His red-brown beard and heavy-shouldered quizzical frame peered down upon our limp, whispering tones as we passed on the forest floor beneath. In rampant rage, in a raucous riot, reveling at the sight of our human insignificance, his cantata of conceit filled the warm midday air. At any other time some of us in his audience might have broken off from the passing line and cut short the esoteric insult, but today all in our party of well-armed hunters were intent on much more prolific game. Earlier, as the veil of morning mist rose above the village, Utok had rushed onto the central plaza. At dawn he and Uwa had gone out in search of kwanamari, the fruit of the turu or patawa tree. Onhari, the communal meal, had already been called for the men working on rethatching a roof. Disturbing the circle of men eating, Utok hastily informed them that he and Uwa had sighted a large herd of poniko (white-lipped peccary) deep in the forest.1 Uwa had remained in the forest to keep track of the herd. Work on the house was canceled. The men quickly mustered themselves together and, with Utok in the lead, we left the village in single file. Kim — University of Nebraska Press / Page 149 / / Of Passionate Curves and Desirable Cadences / George Mentore The Hidden Hazard of Generosity 149 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 [149], (2) Lines: 32 to 36 ——— 0.0pt PgVar ——— Normal Page PgEnds: TEX [149], (2) Almost every man in the village was in attendance. Enkik, who had been out hunting toucans, and Ipamar, who had been fishing, were immediately sent for and soon caught up with our party. Uwa’s tenyear -old son, Chuma, managed to persuade his elders that he should join them. I looked around and counted only four men absent. There were twenty-three of us in the hunting party. Four carried shotguns, while the rest were armed with bows and metal pointed arrows. Seven men brought along their best hog-hunting dogs. We met Uwa in a dim glen. Thin beams of sunlight filtered between the trees. Through them pollen could be seen floating slowly down onto the dank carpet of leaves. Into an eerie stillness enhanced by legions of cicadas, a nearby toucan released its sharp, repetitive three-note call. No one in our party said a word. No one had any need to speak. We had all assembled like this many times before. Uwa pointed to the tracks where he had last seen the herd. A few of the older men hummed in agreement. Before moving on to follow the tracks, Shamawa motioned to us to gather around him. We all bowed our heads as he led us in prayer. Listening to this Christian ritual in the depths of an ancient forest , I thought its form out of place, abrupt, and overly ornate for the occasion. Yet I had to remind myself that Shamawa was not only village leader and chief church elder but also informally a shaman with a very special long-standing relationship with poniko-pen (the collective spirit of the peccary). The stories of his extraordinary exploits with poniko-pen were many, and they all helped to reaf- firm the social and political prestige the community bestowed upon him. One favorite recurring tale told of how Shamawa, on returning one day from his farm in his canoe, completely unarmed, unexpectedly received the kwak r̃esï (gift) of...

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