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Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle

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Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle Cover

 

 

Excerpt

Prologue

“Look! There he is, Xigagaí, the spirit.”

“Yes, I can see him. He is threatening us.”

“Everybody, come see Xigagaí. Quickly! He is on the beach!”

I roused from my deep sleep, not sure if I was dreaming or hearing this conversation. It was 6:30 on a Saturday morning in August, the dry season of 1980. The sun was shining, but not yet too hot. A breeze was blowing up from the Maici River in front of my modest hut in a clearing on the bank. I opened my eyes and saw the palm thatch above me, its original yellow graying from years of dust and soot. My dwelling was flanked by two smaller Pirahã huts of similar construction, where lived Xahoábisi, Kóhoibiíihíai, and their families.

Mornings among the Pirahãs, so many mornings, I picked up the faint smell of smoke drifting from their cook fires, and the warmth of the Brazilian sun on my face, its rays softened by my mosquito net. Children were usually laughing, chasing one another, or noisily crying to nurse, the sounds reverberating through the village. Dogs were barking. Often when I first opened my eyes, groggily coming out of a dream, a Pirahã child or sometimes even an adult would be staring at me from between the paxiuba palm slats that served as siding for my large hut. This morning was different.

I was now completely conscious, awakened by the noise and shouts of Pirahãs. I sat up and looked around. A crowd was gathering about twenty feet from my bed on the high bank of the Maici, and all were energetically gesticulating and yelling. Everyone was focused on the beach just across the river from my house. I got out of bed to get a better look—and because there was no way to sleep through the noise.

I picked my gym shorts off the floor and checked to make sure that there were no tarantulas, scorpions, centipedes, or other undesirables in them. Pulling them on, I slipped into my flip- flops and headed out the door. The Pirahãs were loosely bunched on the riverbank just to the right of my house. Their excitement was growing. I could see mothers running down the path, their infants trying to hold breasts in their mouths.

The women wore the same sleeveless, collarless, midlength dresses they worked and slept in, stained a dark brown from dirt and smoke. The men wore gym shorts or loincloths. None of the men were carrying their bows and arrows. That was a relief. Prepubescent children were naked, their skin leathery from exposure to the elements. The babies bottoms were calloused from scooting across the ground, a mode of locomotion that for some reason they prefer to crawling. Everyone was streaked from ashes and dust accumulated by sleeping and sitting on the ground near the fire.

It was still around seventy- two degrees, though humid, far below the hundred- degree- plus heat of midday. I was rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I turned to Kóhoi, my principal language teacher, and asked, “Whats up?” He was standing to my right, his strong, brown, lean body

tensed from what he was looking at.

“Dont you see him over there?” he asked impatiently. “Xigagaí, one of the beings that lives above the clouds, is standing on the beach yelling at us, telling us he will kill us if we go to the jungle.”

“Where?” I asked. “I dont see him.”

“Right there!” Kóhoi snapped, looking intently toward the middle of the apparently empty beach.

“In the jungle behind the beach?”

“No! There on the beach. Look!” he replied with exasperation.

In the jungle with the Pirahãs I regularly failed to see wildlife they saw. My inexperienced eyes just werent able to see as theirs did.

But this was different. Even I could tell that there was nothing on that white, sandy beach no more than one hundred yards away. And yet as certain as I was about this, the Pirahãs were equally certain that there was something there. Maybe there had been something there that I just missed seeing, but they insisted that what they were seeing, Xigagaí, was still there.

Everyone continued to look toward the beach. I heard Kristene, my six- year- old daughter, at my side.

“What are they looking at, Daddy?”

“I dont know. I cant see anything.”

Kris stood on her toes and peered across the river. Then at me. Then at the Pirahãs. She was as puzzled as I was.

Kristene and I left the Pirahãs and walked back into our house. What had I just witnessed? Over the more than two decades since that summer morning, I have tried to come to grips with the significance of how two cultures, my European- based culture and the Pirahãs culture, could see reality so differently. I could never have proved to the Pirahãs that the beach was empty. Nor could they have convinced me that there was anything, much less a spirit, on it.

As a scientist, objectivity is one of my most deeply held values. If we could just try harder, I once thought, surely we could each see the world as others see it and learn to respect one anothers views more readily. But as I learned from the Pirahãs, our expectations, our culture, and

our experiences can render even perceptions of the environment nearly

incommensurable cross- culturally.

The Pirahãs say different things when they leave my hut at night on their way to bed. Sometimes they just say, “Im going.” But frequently they use an expression that, though surprising at first, has come to be one of my favorite ways of saying good night: “Dont sleep, there are snakes.” The Pirahãs say this for two reasons. First, they believe that by sleeping less they can “harden themselves,” a value they all share. Second, they know that danger is all around them in the jungle and that sleeping soundly can leave one defenseless from attack by any of the numerous predators around the village. The Pirahãs laugh and talk a good part of the night. They dont sleep much at one time. Rarely have I heard the village completely quiet at night or noticed someone sleeping for several hours straight. I have learned so much from the Pirahãs over the years. But this is perhaps my favorite lesson. Sure, life is hard and there is plenty of danger. And it might make us lose some sleep from time to time. But enjoy it.

Life goes on.

I went to the Pirahãs when I was twenty- six years old. Now I am old enough to receive senior discounts. I gave them my youth. I have contracted

malaria many times. I remember several occasions on which the Pirahãs or others threatened my life. I have carried more heavy boxes, bags, and barrels on my back through the jungle than I care to remember. But my grandchildren all know the Pirahãs. My children are who they are in part because of the Pirahãs. And I can look at some of those old men (old like me) who once threatened to kill me and recognize some of the dearest friends I have ever had—men who would now risk their lives for me.

This book is about the lessons I have learned over three decades of studying and living with the Pirahãs, a time in which I have tried my best to comprehend how they see, understand, and talk about the world and to transmit these lessons to my scientific colleagues. This journey has taken me to many places of astounding beauty and into many situations I would rather not have entered. But I am so glad that I made the journey—it has given me precious and valuable insights into the nature of life, language, and thought that could not have been learned any other way.

The Pirahãs have shown me that there is dignity and deep satisfaction in facing life and death without the comfort of heaven or the fear of hell and in sailing toward the great abyss with a smile. I have learned these things from the Pirahãs, and I will be grateful to them as long as I live.

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Average customer rating based on 2 comments:

Mentalfloss1, March 11, 2009 (view all comments by Mentalfloss1)
This is a good book about a fascinating and most unusual tribe, the Piraha of the Amazon basin. It seems that their language is unrelated to any other and that their world view, which is tied up with their language, is nearly entirely in the present moment.

The author begins as a Christian missionary setting out to gently convert the Piraha to his view of the world. Yet, without trying, the Piraha convert him. The author remarks that he was led to question his and his friends' levels of happiness relative to the happiness of the Piraha and found that the Piraha were the happiest people he'd ever known.

Partway through the book there's a lengthy exposition on linguistics that I found to be difficult and, in the end, not necessary to my personal enjoyment of the book. I do recommend this book.
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Rebecca Stillwell, January 7, 2009 (view all comments by Rebecca Stillwell)
We are raised with word-inducing thought patterns, and it's exciting to think that there are people who just see things as they are....now. This book is not unlike a Tim Cahill travel commentary, and as earthshaking as Henderson the Rain King in its ability to make one re-think the world.
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Product Details

ISBN:
9780375425028
Subtitle:
Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle
Publisher:
Pantheon
Author:
Everett, Daniel L.
Subject:
Linguistics
Subject:
Jungles
Subject:
Social aspects
Subject:
Anthropology - Cultural
Subject:
Amazon River Region Social life and customs.
Subject:
Piraha Indians - Amazon River Region -
Subject:
Linguistics - General
Subject:
anthropology;cultural anthropology
Publication Date:
20081111
Binding:
Hardback
Grade Level:
General/trade
Language:
English
Illustrations:
BandW ILLS THROUGHOUT / 8 PP COL
Pages:
304
Dimensions:
9.28x6.54x1.13 in. 1.29 lbs.

Related Subjects

History and Social Science » Anthropology » Central and South America
History and Social Science » Anthropology » Cultural Anthropology
History and Social Science » Anthropology » General
History and Social Science » Anthropology » Linguistics
History and Social Science » Linguistics » General

Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle
0 stars - 0 reviews
$ In Stock
Product details 304 pages Pantheon Books - English 9780375425028 Reviews:
"Publishers Weekly Review" by , "Signature Reviewed by Christine KenneallyThe ways language and thought intertwine have long intrigued scientists. Does language shape the way we see the world? Does the world influence the structure of language? Do we think in words? Such lofty questions pondered in many an ivory tower would go unanswered without the mostly anonymous work of field linguists. These scholars venture into isolated communities and wrestle with culture shock, broken tape recorders and dysentery — all to learn an unfamiliar language from the ground up. Their work is painstaking, and no matter how smart or how educated they are, their projects must begin with the most elementary communicative tactics — they point at a rock or a tree or a bird, and whether they are in Australia's Western Desert, the remote islands of Indonesia or the jungles of Brazil, their interlocutor will respond, 'rock' or 'tree' or 'bird' in the native tongue. Dan Everett's life as a field linguist began when he entered a Pirah village in the Amazonian jungle in December 1977. After being greeted by a happy, chattering crowd, he walked over to a man cooking on a small fire. First, he tapped his own chest and said, 'Daniel,' then he pointed at the animal being cooked on the fire. 'Kixih,' said the man. Everett pointed at a stick. 'Xi' said the man. Everett dropped the stick and said, 'I drop the xii.' 'Xi xi big kobi,' his new friend replied, meaning 'stick it ground falls.' Thus began 30 years of dedication to the Pirah and their native tongue, a mystifying system of sound and rules unrelated to any other language in the world. In this fascinating and candid account of life with the Pirah, Everett describes how he learned to speak fluent Pirah (pausing occasionally to club the snakes that harassed him in his Amazonian 'office'). He also explains his discoveries about the language — findings that have kicked off more than one academic brouhaha. Everett learned that Pirah does not use what are supposed to be universal aspects of grammar, an observation that runs counter to linguistic dogma about how culture, the brain and language connect. For Everett, Pirah is evidence that culture plays a crucial and previously unacknowledged role in the creation of language.Everett's life with the Pirah cost him dearly. He almost lost two family members to malaria, and his first marriage broke down after years of highly productive shared field work. But life in the Amazon taught him a great deal about human nature, too, perhaps more about his own than that of the Pirah. Everett began his linguistic work as a Christian missionary, but the Pirah were marvelously impervious to his promise of a life with Jesus. They pointed out that Everett simply had no proof for the supernatural world he described, and in the end he found himself agreeing with them. He left the church, choosing a world that more honestly integrated his goals as a scholar with the world view of his Pirah friends — one where evidence matters. Christine Kenneally is the author of The First Word: The Search for the Origins of Language, a finalist for the L.A. Times Book Prize." Publishers Weekly (Copyright Reed Business Information, Inc.)
"Review" by , "Dan Everett has written an excellent book. First, it is a very powerful autobiographical account of his stay with the Piraha in the jungles of the Amazon basin. Second, it is a brilliant piece of ethnographical description of life among the Piraha. And third, and perhaps most important in the long run, his data and his conclusions about the language of the Piraha run dead counter to the prevailing orthodoxy in linguistics. If he is right, he will permanently change our conception of human language."
"Review" by , "Dan Everett is the most interesting man I have ever met. This story about his life among the Pirahas is a fascinating read. His observations and claims about the culture and language of the Pirahas are astounding. Whether or not all of his hypotheses turn out to be correct, Everett has forced many researchers to reevaluate basic assumptions about the relationship among culture, language and cognition. I strongly recommend the book."
"Review" by , "Everett's findings about the language have led him to challenge some of the most widely accepted theories put forth by renowned linguists Noam Chomsky and Stephen Pinker."
"Review" by , "Several of Everett's interpretations of the uniqueness of Piraha have been challenged by other linguists....[B]ut Everett's book is a good introduction to his side of the argument."
"Review" by , The author skillfully offers clear analogies in explaining how the Piraha language and culture differ from ours....This engaging true adventure is enthralling throughout."
"Review" by , "Everett's experiences and findings fairly explode from these pages and will reverberate in the minds of readers."
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