Rural landscape cartographies of tekohá guasú Keri communities: Mbya-guarani reciprocity principle

Depósito de investigación de la Universidad de Sevilla https://idus.us.es/ Esta es la versión aceptada del artículo publicado en: This is an accepted manuscript of a paper published in: Journal of Rural Studies (2020): 25/3/2024 DOI: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrurstud.2020.09.014 Copyright: © 2020 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. El acceso a la versión publicada del artículo puede requerir la suscripción de la revista. Access to the published version may require subscription. “This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Elsevier in [Journal of Rural Studies] on [2020], available at: : https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrurstud.2020.09.014” 1 Rural landscape cartographies of tekohá guasú Keri communities. Mbya-guaraní reciprocity principle. María Prieto-Peinado Department of Architectural Projects, ETSA. Sevilla University, Av. Reina Mercedes, 3, 41013, Seville, Spain Citar: María Prieto-Peinado, Rural landscape cartographies of tekohá guasú Keri communities. Mbya-guarani reciprocity principle, Journal of Rural Studies, Volume 80, 2020, Pages 244-258, ISSN 0743-0167, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrurstud.2020.09.014. (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0743016720302606) 1. Introduction Our research was based on two projects: “Assessment of the impact caused by the Oga’i project on the Mbya-Guaraní communities. Inhabitability and surroundings” (2015- 2017) and “Territorial empowerment of the Mbya-Guaraní Community through the assessment of the impact caused by the Oga’i project on the tekohá guasú Keri” (2017- 2018), both of which have been backed by the Co-Operation Office of the University of Seville and involved the collaboration of the Faculty of Architecture, Design and Art (FADA) of the National University of Asunción of Paraguay, and the NGO named Centro de Desarrollo y Hábitat (Cedes-Hábitat), along with the invaluable contributions of Sara Benítez Méndez in helping to comprehend and engage with the community. The Observatory meant an opportunity to interact with the communities, to ascertain and assess the improvements achieved after completing the Oga’i Housing Project drawing on participation and identity (CEDES-Hábitat, 2012) in terms of both objectives and wellbeing, and to preserve certain distinctive traits with a contribution to the typology of the existing expanded dwelling 1 (Figure 01) as the traditional form of habitation in relation to the surroundings. 1 Previous publications described the criteria behind the design of the Oga’i dwelling, featuring a dry and wet module (ecological sanitation and natural wastewater treatment systems) (Prieto-Peinado, 2016, p. 297-312), as well as the contribution to the expanded dwelling typology (Prieto-Peinado, 2016, p. 297- 312). 2 Figure 01. Originary expanded dwelling. Pindoi. 2017. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Assembly: Prieto-Peinado. 2018. The reason for the study emerged after detecting the current territorial issue that affects the population and leads them to lose their identity, causing very serious consequences including exile and occasionally even suicide. Therefore, our aim focuses on acknowledging the value of the areas under study as territorial structures that constitute a heritage, insofar as they are landscapes defending ways of life that reciprocate with the surroundings. The ultimate goal is to define strategies which foster originary habitability systems and propose spatialities in which the natural surroundings not only respond to the interest of production, but also identity and relation. To this end, the first step in the study method is to clarify whether or not the concept of landscape is fitting in the social-spatial and territorial context we are dealing with, where it is used as an analytical instrument to understand the originary territorial structure of the Guaraní people as the basis for identity to construct reciprocity between subject and surroundings, before going on to the stages of implementing our theory. To achieve these aims, the work was organised focusing on the case study of tekohá guasú Keri (in the department of Caaguazú, districts of Mariscal Francisco Solano López, Raúl Arsenio Oviedo, Vaquería and Yhú, mainly populated by Mbya-Guaraní families). This involved delving into the historical process of constructing and transforming the rural landscape based on mapping drawn thanks to field campaigns that worked as participative laboratories (holding meetings, enquiries and workshops with dwellers, local players and project partners). Work was undertaken at various scales: in territories, productive spaces and domestic areas (dwellings) with a view to producing a social-spatial proposal to improve the habitat and its sanitary conditions. Although the originary territorial structure of the Guaraní people lives on in the ways of habitation of the population under study (Pastore, 2013), 2 it interferes with Paraguay’s current legal, political and territorial organisation which is based on protecting land with deeds of ownership. A history of subdual and repression of indigenous peoples 2 Carlos Pastore named three Guaraní groups in Paraguay according to their interaction with European newcomers: the Coloniales (Colonials), who adapted their way of life to the colonists; the Reducidos (Subdued), who accepted the terms imposed by the Jesuits on their Missions and the Monteses (Highlanders, to whom this research refers), who avoided all contact and settled to the north-east of the rainforest in what are now the departments of Caaguazú, Canindeyú and Amambay (Ríos, 2018: 99-100). 3 throughout the various colonisation periods, followed by harsh confiscation laws, has scarred the Guaraní memory. 3 The situation has worsened with the process of global transformation brought about by capital and new technologies, which is forcing all kinds of communities to abide by financial and productive logics that do not respond to their own identity (Berdoulay, 2002: 55). The establishment of monoculture 4 gives rise to significant land loss and resource depletion for the Mbya 5 -Guaraní community. As the forest disappears, so does its function of supplying the means with which to build houses and providing shade and protection along its paths, not to mention healing medicines, prey for hunting and all kinds of sustenance. All this impinges on both their social development (as they lose traditional values of solidarity to more consumption-focussed and competitive standards, aggravating inequality and generating new social imbalances) and on the destruction of ecosystems 6 , giving rise to forms of development that involve processes of acculturation (Schaden, 1998). All in all, this poses a serious problem that can only be tackled from a comprehensive approach. It is not possible – nor is it intended – to provide magical solutions in this paper. We have merely sought to open up new lines of research, questioning the strategies of the globalised Western capital system and considering the idea of proposing a production system based on non-growth 7 that is mindful of our planet’s natural resources and able to learn from ancestral environmentally-friendly forms of action taken by originary peoples, preventing the aggressive deforestation that is taking place. 2. Concepts and Methodology The study comprises theoretical and applied research set in a multidisciplinary theoretical framework at an intersection between different sources. As regards understanding spaces and relations, interpreting the land and defining a place as a socio- 3 One of the most catastrophic episodes occurred during the dictatorship of General Alfredo Stroessner (1954-1989), when indigenous peoples were stripped of their lands en masse and subjected to serious and systematic violations of their human rights, which included civil and military attacks against the Aché, Ayoreo, Maskoy and Toba Qom peoples, as well as extrajudicial executions and kidnappings of indigenous children, as documented by the Truth and Justice Commission that strove from 2003 to 2008 to investigate the crimes committed under the dictatorship. According to the Commission, certain practices continued throughout the democratic transition. Report by the Special Rapporteur for the rights of indigenous peoples, Victoria Tauli-Corpuz, 2015. http://unsr.vtaulicorpuz.org/site/index.php/en/documents/country-reports/84- report-paraguay 4 “Between 1947 and 2007, over 12,000,000 (twelve million) hectares of national heritage from across the country were distributed without any kind of planning or agricultural policies, much of which belonged to indigenous people.” (Meliá, 2014: 15). 5 “Generally, they are given the name of Mbya, although they traditionally speak of themselves as Jeguakáva or Jeguakáva Tenonde Porãngue i. Jeguaka, in the common language, means adornment (as in plumed headdress). In religious vernacular, jeguakáva is the name used to designate manhood or masculine humanity. Jeguakáva Tenonde Porãngue i would translate as: “the first chosen men who wore the feather adornment” (Cadogan, 1997: 9). 6 National Strategy and Plan of Action for the Preservation of Wildlife (ENPAB), 2004. You can also see the image from the NASA Earth Observatory by Robert Simmon based on data from the University of Maryland Global Land Cover Facility, 2017 7 It is important to note that the term ‘production’ has a different meaning for the Guaraní community. Unlike Western society, who link it to the value of work and the benefits gained from it, the Guaraní people see production as obtaining the resources needed to live in equilibrium with one’s surroundings and not producing more than is needed each day. 4 cultural construct, it has all been approached from the landscape perspective as the strategic focus of study. Consequently, we will need to delimit the theoretical and methodological guidelines that circumscribe the scope of the term landscape as intangible heritage in this paper. Tackling this concept from an architectural standpoint poses a true challenge. Therefore, rather than a physical-spatial description rendered in the form of planimetry (which, of course, has its value), the idea is to represent the experience of the subject in a given place. This refers to subjects who inhabit and alter their surroundings, immersed in a principle of reciprocity 8 governed by their inner perception, customs and convictions; they gradually become acquainted with and build their spatiality to shape the everyday reality of a people who have always understood that their way of life (teko) is defined by their relationship with the place (ha). Putting the two terms together gives us tekohá: the very first territoriality and first landscape. One definition states that: “a territory has been considered a space of land with a given structure and location. A landscape is a formalised and interpreted territory” (Martínez de Pisón, 2010: 401). This description of landscape appears to be completely alienated from the idea of reciprocity professed by Guaraní subjects. Therefore, we understand the concept of landscape as a complex socio-ecological reciprocal system in permanent transformation, in which the subject builds their own landscape in relation to the environment, while in turn being built as a subject by the environment itself (according to the Guaraní sense of worldview 9 ). Therefore, we are interested in studying the reciprocal experience drawing us closer to the experienced space – an inhabited space that reveals a landscape whilst influencing the subject in a mutual relationship. This suggests that “the landscape activates and puts into play a certain sense of space that must be made to appear [...], ‘landscape space’ in the phenomenological sense [...], evidencing what we might call a landscape of proximity” (Besse, 2010: 12-13) so as to comprehend the landscape under study as a landscape of reciprocity. Meanwhile, we are also interested in exploring the concept of cultural landscape, which could be defined as: “the places – shaped by mankind or jointly by mankind and nature [...] (which) illustrate the evolution of society and of human settlements over the years under the influence of the limitations and/or advantages brought about by the environment and by social, economic and cultural forces, both internal and external.” 10 According to these definitions, there is a landscape that belongs to each people and to each subject. Therefore, the Guaraní people constitute a different kind of society, one that has its own cultural and productive manifestations according to their sense of work, meaning not just a productive action, but also a cultural occurrence, because “Potiró, pepy, jopóy 11 are 8 “Jopói (reciprocity) is one of the Guaraní forms of community behaviour and refers to the duty of reciprocity among people and between people and nature; it means sharing but expecting nothing in exchange and being grateful for generosity.” (Oviedo, 2014: 232). 9 The key lies in understanding a physical space and the elements present therein as living elements which, as such, have their own laws and forms of manifestation. 10 Cultural Landscape defined in one of its three considerations in the Basic Texts of the 1972 UNESCO World Heritage Convention, p. 10 and 131. 11 Work, production and economy are seen as a mutual show of gratitude, a gesture of taking that is to be rewarded by giving. Potiró is understood to mean work in collaboration, such as clearing paths, for instance. “Potiró and pepy respond to a broader economic structure that determines the Guaraní way, which is known as jopóy. Jopóy is essentially reciprocity (holding out open hands to one another). Jo is a Guaraní morpheme which, according to Montoya (Tesoro, 196v), means mutual, reciprocal”. (Meliá, 1996: 197-198). 5 nothing but moments in the same movement in which the ‘Guaraní way of being’ unfolds ideally and formally, but not in an abstract sense, rather in the specific sense of producing the material conditions for their existence, which are never those of mere subsistence” (Meliá, 1996: 197-198.). Work reveals the Guaraní way of being and is reflected in the construction of their own cultural landscape, which is also shaped by words in the content of their dances, songs and music. They reflect the aesthetics of a Nature that is appropriated, changing and handed down from generation to generation through the guidance conveyed in their initiation journeys (Pierre Clastres, 1993; Aguiar and Müller, 2010)). Therefore, territory becomes landscape in a long process of construction and of inner perception full of external influences as the reflection of the identity of a people. Said identity is known to be a construct that changes gradually over the course of history due to confrontation with other identities; it entails a process of creation in which “identifying with something involves loyalty, but that loyalty can be porous and shifting” (Piñeiro, 2015: 54) and is consequently exposed to external influence. In light of the above, there are three study guidelines that interest us: firstly, construing the systemic behaviour that landscape entails, where multiple strata (such as the physical surroundings, production, society, economy, colony...) give rise to different types of relationships; secondly, the perception of spaces and representing their quality and sensations; and thirdly, revealing the Guaraní subject from the point of view of the constitution of the landscape, determining aspects such as their memory and identity. Methodologically speaking, the process followed has been extractive, qualitative, analytical, participatory, comparative and critical, which each phase feeding back into the rest with previously verified strategies. In terms of timing, four phases can be identified in the development of this proposal. The first involved searching multidisciplinary literature and bibliography, which began by examining documents on the management and planimetry of the social housing proposal, before going on to undertake a critical reading of specific bibliography regarding the Guaraní ethnicity (Fernández de Oviedo, 2007; Meliá, 2011), particularly the Mbya subgroup (Nimuendaju, 1987; Lehner 2002), as well as literature that bore a direct or indirect link to the interests of this research (a project background relating to spatiality, territoriality, landscape and inhabitability (Prieto-Peinado et al, 2016; Prieto-Peinado et al, 2017), these being concepts which are currently part of the community identity and are being revindicated to ensure the subsistence of the Mbya-Guaraní people). Studying this content allowed us to become familiar with their habits and the relationships within the different subgroups, especially regarding productive space and domestic space. The second phase was dedicated to coordinating the participatory action in consensus with various community leaders and aided by the mediator Sara Benítez, which allowed us to build strategies to be developed in the field having defined needs, visiting and meeting times, and the content to be discussed during these encounters. Our third phase was field work, which involved spending time accompanying the members of each Community together with their cacique (leader) so as to draw up maps of their farmland, mobility and activities such as rituals, celebrations and games on a territorial level. Mapping was carried out based on meetings and workshops, producing maps on which life stories drew production pathways used to search for resources, hunt, fish or find medicinal or spiritual remedies. We also visited and interviewed some of the families living in social housing to render models of Oga’i houses and modules, vegetable gardens, greenery and pre-existing 6 features, where it was important to record the quality and relations found in intermediate spaces. The field work took place in annual three- to five-month stints during each stage of the project’s development. The fourth and final phase was dedicated to reflecting and drawing conclusions (such as formalising the results with conclusive maps). 3. Background: the ancestral structure of the territory: Mbya-Guaraní identity. The Mbya identity can be defined on two levels. The first level relates to the characteristics they have in common with fellow subgroups of the Guaraní ethnicity, as opposed to other colonising cultures such as Spanish, Portuguese, Creole or Mennonite. 12 In this respect, unlike the territorial organisation of the colonial world, in which “evidence of previous native transformation of landscape and indeed of the native environmental and spatial knowledge necessary to initial European exploration mapping and settlement was largely ignored” (Cosgrove. 2002, p. 86), the Guaraní people did not organise their land based on a sense of ownership or property, but on the principle of reciprocity with nature, where use and communion with the environment prevailed. By contrast, the second level involves everything that sets them apart from the rest of the subgroups belonging to the Guaraní ethnicity. After all, “aside from territorial location and linguistic differences, one of the most significant cultural bases in the differential identification of each subgroup lies in the variations of their cosmological and mythological conceptions” (Piñeiro, 2015: 52-53). We might also recall the written work of Meliá referring to Müller: “We owe it to Müller to have found a technological characterisation which may seem external or accidental, but actually enables an exact and safe differentiation between all three Guaraní subgroups in eastern Paraguay: ‘It suffices to look at the shape of the baskets. Indeed, according to the three basket shapes and their different names, we could simply speak of an Adjacá culture, an Adjó culture and a Pynac culture, as opposed to Mbya, Chiripá and Pa’” (Melià-Grünberg 2008: 52; Müller 1989: 181). The way a territory is organised traditionally depends on the sense of worldview that pervades family relations, rising above the physical sphere and uniting spirit and surroundings in one single vision (Basini, 2015). The Guaraní idea of extended 13 family as a basic social organisation would not make sense without an alliance of reciprocity with their territory. The ancient Guaraní saying goes ‘tekohá’ÿre ndaipori teko’ (without territory there is no culture) (Nimuendajú, 1944; Susnik, 2013; Shaden, 1998), turning the sphere of influence into a dynamic system, like an expression of everyday life by following their own customs and beliefs. The smallest unit of territorial organisation, known as tekohá, is considered the basic socio-political, economic and territorial structure of Guaraní society, where “men and women share the decision-making and responsibilities, though each one has specific functions. A member’s rank within the group depends on their experience (age) and social 12 Contact between the Mbya people and the Paraguayans could be considered non-existent up until the 1960s. It was not until 50 years ago that colonisation by the Mennonites, extensive farming and exports began to take a serious toll on the habitat and way of life of these people. (Melia, 2014: 11). 13 According to Lehner, “extended family is a group of couples and people who are related through kinship, either by blood or affinity [...]. Extended family can also include more distant relatives (cousins or niblings up to the second or third degree) and, ultimately, providing refuge for non-relatives.” (Lehner, 2005: 29) 7 behaviour, that is, on their way of living the Guaraní teko and their wisdom rather than their gender [...] A Tamõi or a Jarýi (as political and spiritual leaders) will have more of a say than a younger member” (Lehner, 2002: 30). Traditionally, the next organisational level up from tekohá in terms of scale and relational complexity would be tekohá guasú, which groups together several tekohá related by kinship 14 to form socio-political, economic-productive and territorial alliances and meet regularly. At this level, one tamõi becomes the Mburuvicha Guasú and is appointed as the moral and spiritual leader to speak on behalf of the tekohá guasú whenever it needs to be represented. The tekohá guasú will occasionally be named after this person, who historically would have a small army of warriors at his disposal. 15 The formal and functional relations between the tekohá and the tekohá guasú have endured over time, though their location, form or size may have changed. Their structure has been dynamic and flexible since the beginning, allowing them to adapt to external influence and internal events. However, this quality is tending to disappear with current geo-political divisions. The migrations of the Guaraní people are not a nomad occurrence. Instead, they come in response to their traditions: When faced with difficulties, their solution is to look for what they call ybymarane'y (earth without evil). They do not see moving as a value or as a way of life, and certainly not as a way of conquering new lands. “The driver of Tupí-Guaraní migrations was not the force of warlike expansion; there was another reason, probably religious” (Nimuendaju, 1987 [1914]: 107-108.), which was the search for earth without evil, sometimes spurred by the onslaughts of the Bandeirantes and the Mbaja, others by the need to escape the Tava and Reductions 16 imposed by Franciscans and Jesuits, or occasionally to deal with internal issues. The first map to show the union between several Guaraní families – namely the Pãí tavyterás, Ava-Guarani, Mbya and Ache (differentiated by language and other factors) – was drawn in 1981 by Bejarano (First map published showing the location and population of indigenous peoples). It is interesting to see how it compares to the map drawn up subsequently by Lehner in 2001 (Lehner, 2005: 37). Within Paraguayan territory, there are two distinct groups: “the Mbya as such to the south of the San Joaquín mountain chain, where the focus of our work is located, and the Ka’aygua to the north (Pai Tavyterâ)” (Lehner, 2008: 4). By comparing the two maps, we see a reduction in the Mbya territory in the southern area on the banks of the river Paraná and the movement of the Mbya people into Avá territory. Similarly, Lehner’s representation shows the estimated location of the different tekohá guasú, situating the tekohá guasú Keri under study in the central area of Mbya territory. In 1992, Paraguay enacted its constitution and the first legal acknowledgement of indigenous peoples 17 . Act 904/81, the Statute of Indigenous Communities, was written to 14 Historic family ties that have gradually altered the originary tekohá due to marriage or the division of a tekohá. 15 Mburuvicha Guasú is the name given to the person who socially and morally leads the tekohá guasú and represents all of the tamõi in the other tekohá. (Lehner, 2002: 9). 16 "We use the word ‘reductions’ to refer to Indian settlements that before were living in their old way in the mountains, ridges and valleys, in hidden streams, in sets of three, four or six houses alone, standing one, two or three leagues apart from one another, which were ‘reduced’ [in the case of some groups] by the Fathers [accepting new spatial configurations] to large populations [settlements] and political and human life." (Montoya, 1989: 58). 17 Article 62 of this Constitution – one of the most advanced of its time – acknowledged the existence of indigenous peoples defined as “earlier cultural groups” which pre-dated the formation of the State. Article 8 govern indigenous property and the figure of the Community was created, as defined in article 2: “A group of extended families, a clan or group of clans with their own culture and system of authority [...] living in their common habitat.” The Act included a concept that stemmed from the Guaraní sense of territoriality, with article 18 linking a surface area “with financial and cultural viability and the expansion thereof”, which implicitly entails a certain flexibility that is reflected in Lehner’s comparison 18 of 2005-2008 (Figure 02). If we compare the communities represented in Figure 02 (left) from the 2002 areas 19 with those identified in 1977, areas 55, 57, 58, 60, 61 and 64 are those currently shown as belonging to tekohá guasú Keri. The reality, however, is quite different. They are still only granted the 20 hectares per family established in the old Agrarian Code, 20 which is why each community has been reduced in most cases to just one tekohá, with no chance of grouping together or expanding. Furthermore, the lack of territorial plans with the right scale or degree of definition to clearly identify each community’s potential boundaries and spheres of influence has meant that it is difficult to gain a true awareness of these unresolved realities. Hence the significance of obtaining the community-scale maps and domestic-scale plans provided in this research. 63 recognised and ensured the right of the indigenous peoples to preserve and develop their ethnic identity and apply their own systems of political, social, economic, cultural and religious organisation, as well as to adhere to customary law in their internal affairs. Other constitutional provisions recognised the right to communal ownership of land (article 64) and indigenous participation (article 65), as well as establishing special measures to protect these peoples from demographic regression, predation on their habitat, environmental contamination, financial exploitation and cultural alienation (article 66), along with other affirmative measures. Report by the Special Rapporteur for the rights of indigenous peoples, Victoria Tauli- Corpuz: http://unsr.vtaulicorpuz.org/site/index.php/en/documents/country-reports/84-report-paraguay. 18 “In 1976-77, the Paĩ-Tavyterã and Guarani Projects pursued the first identification of these Tekohá among the Ava-Guarani, Mbya and Paĩ-Tavyterã, providing a schematic outline of each one’s inhabited area, their territory/habitat. I would like to transcribe the maps produced by these two Projects here as they will be our basis for a more detailed and precise identification of traditional territories. With this identification, we will be able to provide sound reasoning behind present-day land claims over the ‘lands where my grandparents lived’, not in the distant past, but as little as 30 years ago.” (Lehner, 2008: 8). 19 Presumably, judging by the date when the map was produced, the reference made to ‘current communities’ means those corresponding to the 2002 Atlas of Indigenous Communities of Paraguay (CGEEC, 2012). 20 Act No. 854/63. Established by the Agrarian Statute. Section VI. On free allocations. Article 91. - The Institute of Rural Welfare may grant free ownership of: b) A lot of up to twenty hectares to every father of a family with seven or more dependant underage children living in his care. 15 journeys and occasionally becomes a place of spiritual relevance to host offerings 28 such as shows of gratitude to a Nature which – at times, uncertainly – grants them resources (through hunting, fishing or searching for medicinal remedies and wellness), as well as providing them with respite thanks to the humidity that builds up in the rainforest ensuring mild temperatures. The dense vegetation also affords shelter from the wind, meaning it is never extremely hot or cold in the forest. The second spatial reality has been labelled farmed-forest (Figure 05, Right), which is generally a space used by women to grow crops such as manioc, corn or potatoes to feed the family, and also as a domestic development area (Lehner, 2011) near the house that changes depending on harvest times. In his quote, Meliá describes the Guaraní way of life during the time of the conquest (between 1600 and 1700): “They are farmers, they always farm in the forest and move to a new chacra every three years [...]. They live in well-made houses [...], some with eight or ten wooden posts and others with more or less; the vassals live with the cacique because they all tend to live in one house [...]. Their villages are small because they always farm in the forest so they like to be few people so they do not run out, and also to provide for their fishermen and hunters” (MCDA I, 1951: 166-167), although they now tend to live in nuclear families (parents, children and grandchildren). The contribution of the “reforestation” included in the actions proposed by the Oga’i project (CEDES-Hábitat, 2012) has enabled their customs and food capacity to continue and has allowed native species to recover, but it has also encouraged the emergence of tools to protect the domestic environment, with their crops (usually banana plants) having become natural barriers and proximity landscapes being redrawn once more. Another contribution involved appreciating the benefits of locating the new dwelling in the same place using a continuity strategy according to the dispersed settlement criteria. This dispersed settlement constituted an evolution from the original collective dwelling (extended families) that was transformed under colonial imposition into settlements of dwellings separated by families (nuclear families) at equal distances along the streets or around water sources.. Figure 05. Left: Tracked-forest. Ñembiara. Right: Farmed-forest. Yvy Moroti. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Photo by T. Rodelas and I. Aguilar, 2018. 28 Adolfo Chamorro Opygua, the spiritual leader of the Tekohá Arandu Community in Pozo Azul, Misiones, stated (in a translation) that: “In the morning we sing and dance, delivering the day to the creator to take care of our children, take care of us if we go out hunting... That is our custom,” Chap: I Mbya “Nanderu”. [Available online: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QiFKn6Vspmc] 16 Their customs, rituals and livelihoods involve processes that include natural, environmental, biotic and abiotic aspects. The participatory mapping carried out in the tekohá guasú in Itapuá and Caazapá 29 constitutes a good example of their relations with the environment, production and customs. “In fact, the farming language specifies different jobs [...] over an astronomical and seasonal calendar, where the appearance of the Pleiads or Seven Goats, the Eichu (‘little bees’) and the cold m’y, as well as the ‘long summer sun’ (kuorahy poku), signify the passing of the years. The modern Guaraní people are regularly guided by the flowering of the lapacho (tajy po¡y) which was probably also true of their ancestors” (Meliá, 1996: 193 [First quoting Montoya, 1989, p. 124: 77 and 344]). The environment is transformed and preserved, in relation to their spiritual and earthly activities, based on a culture of their own symbols. It is upon this identity that the everyday landscape of the community is built. “Indigenous peoples have adapted to natural ecosystems and, in the process, they have imprinted a unique seal on the landscapes with their agricultural, silvicultural and livestock activity. Those landscapes are known as biocultural landscapes” (Rodríguez; Glauser, 2013: 96), a construction of spatial realities linked to solidary domestic economy, which have constituted a form of protection thanks to this complicity. Their everyday spaces exude beauty linked to one of the community’s ways of working. “Guaraní work, especially that of the men, is not limited to planting, hunting and fishing; instead, they perform craftsmanship with the ultimate goal being none other than pure beauty, the beauty of the body. A work in which their hands are trained as if in a game of creating shapes and colours [...]. Guaraní work is structured in three modes, as expressed in their etymology: work in the sense of touching and handling; work as in making things; and work as tiredness” (Meliá, 1996: 188; 190-191). The touching and handling mode would be linked to others, where touching is the main activity involved in delousing and grooming. “This is done in a setting of carefree giving, where the very movement of the hands appears to suffice to create their own magic” (Meliá, 1996: 188; 190-191). The second work mode, making things, is linked to creating objects such as rope and support elements. Lastly, the mode of work as tiredness is linked to cultivating or construction. “The most important ceremony, the Ñemongaraí 30 has to do [...] with rituals surrounding the corn harvest and the (re)production of communal rules” (Piñeiro, 2015: 55). According to their beliefs, the productive space links man and woman directly to Nature, contemplation, reciprocity and exaltation (gratitude for what is given by the surroundings through work) and, therefore, to transformation. “Today, the Guaraní family economy depends both on the kokue guasú of the men and on the kokue’i of the women, and only when the two are balanced can the financial situation of the Guaraní people be guaranteed to improve sustainably” (Lehner, 2005: 49). 4.5 Proximity Landscapes: Domesticity Networks in Santa Teresa and in Ñembiara. According to ancient documents provided in the Anonymous Jesuit Report (1620) and more recently in Lehner’s drawing, domestic relations revolved around a stream (ykua). The house (og) 31 would be located nearby, “just six houses standing one, two or three 29 Ecological-productive calendar and cultural cycles. Participatory Mapping (Rodríguez, C.; Glauser, M., 2013: 96). 30 Ñemongarai can be translated as baptism. 31 Houses in the Guaraní language are known as ‘Og’, meaning: “thing used to cover, thatch of the house, which has come to mean house by taking a part for the whole. Here we see how, based on one classical 17 leagues apart, or more” (Montoya, 1989: 58). Today, organisational criteria have evolved and, although they still respond to proximity to the stream, other houses are often arranged along the main access routes, many of which draw straight lines planned according to rational strategies to access extensive farmland. In this study, we will focus on the case of Santa Teresa and Ñembiara, both in the district of R.A. Oviedo, which were chosen because they have distinct stereotypes in terms of both size and population, as well as boasting different domesticity networks. Both communities share the same originary structure as the tekohá. They could be said to have collectivity spaces, such as the Opy 32 and its surroundings (each tekohá may house one or more), which are a spiritual meeting place in a collective construction. The Opy does not stand in a central, prominent place, but rather it is nestled in the protection of the forest near to the house inhabited by the tamõi and jarýi couple, who act as spiritual and political leaders. There are also other collectivity spaces that reflect the colonial influence, especially in Santa Teresa (Figure 06), such as the playing court, the school, the church or the cemetery, as well as the storehouse and the shop with transit routes around them. In the colonial way, these constructions all give rise to the Western concept of urban centrality (albeit, on a smaller scale) that coexists in equilibrium with the originary way of life. Figure 06. Santa Teresa Community. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Map by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. element – roof thatching –, the use of the word og is generalised to mean the entire house.” (Caballos, 2011: 29). 32 The Yarýi of San Juan in Yhovy told us that: “[It] corresponds to the large ceremonial house where the adult members of the community gather, which is kept with great respect and care by the spiritual leader. It is a place to gather with superior beings in which to strengthen and nurture their beliefs.” (Prieto-Peinado et al, 2016). 18 In Santa Teresa, we also see a structure of different kinds of pathways (Figure 07, south sector) 33 . There are main access routes, which are paved with stones and wider than others, linking the community to Tres Palmas and Toledo. The secondary access route is a beaten track leading to Panambí across the river Yguasú. There are also main pathways that are not used to access the community, but for internal purposes (domesticity networks), affording access to the river and linking families. These three types of pathways follow straight lines because they stemmed from a rational plan to facilitate motorised transport as part of colonial processes. We can also see that there are other constructions near the river bank and dotted around the inner area. Here, we would highlight the advantages of the location of the Oga’i social housing, with sturdy, long-lasting constructions erected in specific spots chosen by each family based on cultural criteria and on the relationship with the environment, such as “the social and genealogical background of each family, (…) where the woman had most of her children, which is to be taken into account even if the location may not technically be ideal, because that place houses the energy of the family history, this being one of the most important reasons. Another factor is proximity to permanent water supply points (rivers, lakes or handmade wells) because, although the communities may already have a drinking water network system, they believe that this will not guarantee a supply over time given that the systems depend on electricity services which are highly unreliable in these areas. (…) Another factor to determine the location of the dwelling is the Opy spiritual house. Usually, the women, who preserve many of the cultural characteristics and practice of their people, try not to be too far away from it because rituals take place at night and it is difficult to go very far with their children and the women always take all their children with them.” 34 The vast majority of central areas are visibly taken over by extensive farming. These lands are worked with machinery and rented to colonists, which means that the woodland has disappeared entirely and the protection of the trees is lost. 33 The houses that are numbered are new social housing under the Ogai project, located by the pre-existing house. Ogai Observatory. (Assessment of the impact caused by the Oga’i project on the Mbya-Guaraní Communities. Inhabitability and environment. Phase I and II” 2015-2017). 34 Recounted by Sara Benítez, a mediator in the Oga’i Observatory project. 19 Figure 07. Opy Sector of the Santa Teresa Community. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Map by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. In Ñembiara (Figure 08), unlike other communities, they have not rented out their lands or cut down the trees. This community stands on the banks of the river Yguazú. Smaller in size and with less external influence, it features a larger expanse of forest in the central area, and the chacra and housing are mainly located around the perimeter, which means that the forest is protected. It also presents incipient transformations that once again place housing along the access and service paths, on the edge of the single-crop farmland. Here, domesticity networks (shown in white in the map figures) are defined by people passing on foot and by the protection of the forest. 20 Figure 08. Top. Ñembiara Community. Bottom left. Central Sector of the Ñembiara Community. Bottom right. East Sector of the Ñembiara Community. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Photo by Aguilar and Rodelas, 2018. The forest shelters a network of pathways under the treetops, where local people come to collect plants and bark for medicinal preparations, to make offerings and to stroll. We can also make out two Opy, with their surrounding group of houses. Like in previous figures, the houses marked with a number are the social dwellings that were built there in addition to the pre-existing houses, thus contributing to the expanded dwelling typology defined 21 in other publications 35 as an element that fosters the domestic proximity landscape. This space (Figures 09-10) is moulded by everyday actions to keep the surrounding area of beaten earth clear so it can act as a protective element to detect bugs, as well as shaping the area in which domestic life has appropriated the forest. These spaces are generally delimited by planting banana trees in the intermediate areas and one will occasionally come across fruit trees along the edges beside pathways or wetlands. This area contains the cluster of small buildings that constitute the expanded dwelling, from the bedroom and the fire place (tata) as traditional, ephemeral spaces built with elements from the forest, to other areas of greater or lesser colonial influence, such as the stove area, the well, the chicken coop, grassy play areas and gardens, all of which appear integrated within the recently constructed social housing. The newly-built social dwelling has a separate module for the washing area with a basin and a shower, and a dry module to replace the old pit latrines. It constitutes another symbol of external appropriations due to its materials and form, though it is integrated in the traditional spatiality with its flexible composition made up of disperse modules to further the expanded layout system. Furthermore, owing to its solid and long-lasting construction (of brick and concrete), it represents a step towards consolidating current location structures, introducing new eco-sustainable technologies such as the dry module (recycling excreta) and the wet module (with an indoor washbowl and an outdoor basin). These elements help to raise inhabitability standards while improving the physical conditions of the house (insulation, waterproofing, material resistance and more). Moreover, the construction of these modules creates a highly flexible interstitial open space. Their height and arrangement are a positive factor in shaping a new landscape in concordance with traditional customs, striking a certain resemblance due to their scale and size with the spatial effect of original clusters of trees dotted around the forest. Around the house there are flower boxes set in the ground to create small gardens. Keeping plants like this means exceeding the limits of mere provisioning to reach a new conceptual space of comfort and a symbolic representation of domestic well-being. Other gathering places can be found under the shade of the trees equipped with benches or wooden chairs for socialising, chatting and drinking tereré (Figure 09). Nearby there are ropes tied between two trees to hang out washing and create a play area for girls and boys. 35 “The spaces in this traditional house are arranged in relation to a broad spatial area, but are not part of a single constructed object” (Prieto-Peinado et al, 2016). 22 Figure 09. Surroundings of an expanded dwelling. Genara Benítez, Oga’i no. 02. Santa Teresa. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Sketch and photo by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. 23 Figure 10. Surroundings of an expanded dwelling. Teodocia Vera Esquibel, Oga’i no. 25. Ñembiara. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Sketch by M. Prieto and photo by T. Rodelas and I. Aguilar, 2019. 5. Conclusions The following strategies are proposed to highlight the value of originary inhabitability systems: - To retrieve the concept of Tekoha Guasú in its broadest dimension, in the sense of intangible heritage, beyond being a territorial structure, defined as a own landscape. - To acknowledge the principle of reciprocity as a tool that identifies the culture of a people and entails the protection of the environment. 24 - To introduce the legal right to use the land under a system of combined rights according to a broader concept of ownership that allows for a different society with its originary rights and evolution. - To emphasise the worth of the cultural landscape using renderings, maps or cartography to represent the realities that coexist in the tekohá and tekohá guasú structure. - To encourage proximity landscapes by improving the system of networks, trails and relations, the expanded dwelling typology and local autochthonous reforestation. - To highlight the cultural significance of ensuring the typological continuity of the expanded dwelling in the Oga’i proposal, having provided constructive and sanitary improvements based on existing spatial identity principles. The Mbya-Guaraní people do indeed alter their surroundings; we are not denying that fact. But they do so with absolute sustainability in terms of scale and timing, positioning their settlements by rivers, pathways, chacras for farming or meeting places, where a spoken culture is the framework for their identity and an ecological way of doing things. Appendix Figures embedded in text Figure 01. Originary expanded dwelling. Pindoi. 2017. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Assembly: Prieto-Peinado. 2018. Figure 02. Left: Comparative map of the evolution of the Mbya territory. Source: Lehner. 2005. Published in Los Pueblos Guaraní del Paraguay Oriental, 2005, p. 27. Right: Department of Caaguazú. Comparison between current Communities and territories marked out in the “Paĩ-Tavyterã” and “Guarani” Projects. Source: Lehner. 2008. Published in ¿Qué es un Territorio Tradicional Indígena? (What Is a Traditional Indigenous Territory?), 2008, p. 8. Figure 03. Tekohá Guasú Keri. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II, supported by the Y’akã Retã Community and Santa Teresa, 2017 Figure 04. Left: Aerial photo of Jaguary. Right. The silo path. Santa Teresa. Source: Left: Observatory Phase I. Photo by D. Ayala, 2016 and Right. Phase II. R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. Figure 05. Left: Tracked-forest. Ñembiara. Right: Farmed-forest. Yvy Moroti. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Photo by T. Rodelas and I. Aguilar, 2018. Figure 06. Yaka Rêta Community. Santa Teresa. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Map by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. Figure 07. Opy Sector of the Santa Teresa Community. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Map by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. Figure 08. Top. Ñembiara Community. Bottom left. Central Sector of the Ñembiara Community. Bottom right. East Sector of the Ñembiara Community. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Photo by Aguilar and Rodelas, 2018. Figure 09. Surroundings of an expanded dwelling. Genara Benítez, Ogai no. 02. Santa Teresa. Source: Oga’i Observatory Project. Phase II. Sketch and photo by R. Estrada and V. Martínez, 2017. Figure 10. Surroundings of an expanded dwelling. Teodocia Vera Esquibel, Ogai no. 25. Ñembiara. Source: Territorial Empowerment Project. Phase I. Sketch by M. Prieto and photo by T. Rodelas and I. Aguilar, 2019.