Cuba: music scene, cane field, floating slave barrack, tourist hangout . . . and gulag. In Indigenous Passages to Cuba, Jason Yaremko calls our attention to the fact that almost from the moment of contact the island of Cuba became a destination for autochthonous peoples from all over Spain's far-flung American empire. Yaremko's story will ring true to most students of history, since everyone from the ancient Assyrians to Joseph Stalin has moved around subject peoples: to break up ethnic solidarity, isolate troublemakers, or reroute labor to key regions of demand. At the same time, for complicated, multiethnic empires, the existence of geographical options has sometimes come to the aid of peoples who are politically weak and short on resources. The Cuban story presents examples of all these dynamics.The indigenous peoples who came this way answered to various descriptions and motives. Florida Indians traveled to Cuba in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, sometimes for negotiations and at other times for permanent refuge but almost always with an eye to seeking Spanish protection against the English. Creek visitors expected lavish gifts that island authorities, however reluctantly, always decided to give as a way of keeping geopolitical options open in the era's highly competitive imperial atmosphere. At about this same time Havana witnessed an influx of transported troublemakers from the north, people such as the Apache and Navajo. They could be every bit as difficult on this (really quite large) island as they had been in Sonora and Chihuahua. However outlandish it may now seem, many of these northern convicts were marched in chains from the far north down to Mexico City and then on to Veracruz, where they were finally shipped to the island.Approximately half the book concerns one of the shabbiest episodes of southeastern Mexican history—namely, the sale of Maya peasants to Cuba during the Caste War of Yucatán. The practice persisted from 1848 until the mid-1860s, and while it made only limited impact on island history, it convulsed Yucatecan politics as politicians, military officers, and entrepreneurs all jockeyed to take advantage of potential profits. Yaremko outdoes himself in synthesizing a broad field of scholarship, using archival sources from Cuba and Spain to round out a picture unavailable through peninsular collections alone. As he demonstrates, life for Yucatec Maya on the island resembled what they had left on the peninsula, with an emphasis on farming, intensely local family life, and legal disputes.I do need to underscore one critical point, just so we don't slip back into a historical misunderstanding. Most of the transported Yucatec Maya were only prisoners of war in the sense that a war was going on and someone took them prisoner. The relative scarcity of battles proper during the Caste War, plus the fact that actual rebel combatants were armed and dangerous and knew how to escape via backwoods trails, strongly suggests that most of those peoples sent to Cuba were probably refugees who were looking to avoid the bullets but happened to get rounded up. If anything, that makes the story more dastardly still. Whatever the ultimate truth in this matter, Cuban planters would have been overjoyed to receive more of these agriculturally gifted newcomers, whether by force or by the latter's own free will; by the late 1860s, those planters could see slavery's handwriting on the wall and needed a contingency plan. Their actions closely resembled those of the British two generations earlier, when Caribbean sugar growers had begun stocking their estates with East Indian and Chinese contract workers in order to buffer themselves against the abolition that finally came in 1838. But skyrocketing henequen profits in the century's final third made Maya peasants too valuable to let leave, and Cuba's great influx ended as abruptly as it had begun.If I do have a concern here, it is that the three chapters dealing with Yucatec Maya lack rigorous organization, and with disorganization comes repetition and backtracking. More attention to chronological development would have helped clear up a confusing rendition. Still, Yaremko positions the Caribbean more centrally in the Western Hemisphere's often-deplorable tradition of relocated populations and nudges us out of the old black-white Cuba story. The next time you dip back to island history, think black-white-Maya-Athapaskan-Creek, for starters.
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