October 13, 1492

Four years ago I read THE FOUR VOYAGES by Cristoforo Colombo translated by JM Cohen.

A great read of exploration, but disquieting as the early entries predicted the extermination of the Arawaks or Tainos who inhabited the Caribbean and Central America. For centuries western historians guiltcaped the extinction by blaming the disappearance of the egalitarian agro-culture on Smallpox, when in fact the reason for this genocide was the spread of disease through rape and Spanish not bathing, plus the old scourges of slavery, and brutality. The invaders worked the First People so hard, that by 1514 the population of Hispaniola, which had been originally estimated by the Church at between several hundred thousand to over a million people in 1492, had been reduced to a mere 35,000 thirty years later. 99% of the people according to Wikipedia. At present time approximately 15,000 Arawaks or Taino lived in Guyana, with smaller numbers present in Venezuela, Suriname, and French Guiana, although today many islanders identify as Taíno and many more have Taíno descent, most notably in Puerto Rico, Cuba, and Dominica Their numbers are increasing, despite the countless attempts by the West to kill them off 100%.

The language lives on too.

Ayo.

FROM THE DIARY OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

SATURDAY OCTOBER 13, 1492

As soon as it dawned, many of these people came to the beach—all young, as I have said, and all of good stature—very handsome people, with their hair not curly but straight and coarse, like horsehair; and all of them very wide in-the forehead and head, more so than any other race that I have seen so far. And their eyes are very handsome and not small; and none of them are black, but of the color of the Canary Islanders. Nor should anything else be expected since this island is on an east-west line with the island of Hierro in the Canaries. All alike have very straight legs and no belly but are very well formed.

They came to the ship with dugouts [canoes] that are made from the trunk of one tree, like a long boat, and all of one piece, and worked marvelously in the fashion of the land, and so big that in some of them 40 and 45 men came. And others smaller, down to some in which one man came alone. They row with a paddle like that of a baker and go marvelously. And if it capsizes on them then they throw themselves in the water, and they right and empty it with calabashes [hollowed out gourds] that they carry.

They brought balls of spun cotton and parrots and javelins and other little things that it would be tiresome to write down, and they gave everything for anything that was given to them. I was attentive and labored to find out if there was any gold; and I saw that some of them wore a little piece hung in a hole that they have in their noses. And by signs I was able to understand that, going to the south or rounding the island to the south, there was there a king who had large vessels of it and had very much gold. I strove to get them to go there and later saw that they had no intention of going. I decided to wait until the afternoon of the morrow and then depart for the southwest, for, as many of them showed me, they said there was land to the south and to the southwest and to the northwest and that these people from the northwest came to fight them many times.

And so I will go to the southwest to seek gold and precious stones. This island is quite big and very flat and with very green trees and much water and a very large lake in the middle and without any mountains; and all of it so green that it is a pleasure to look at. And these people are very gentle, and because of their desire to have some of our things, and believing that nothing will be given to them without their giving something, and not having anything, they take what they can and then throw themselves into the water to swim.

But everything they have they give for anything given to them, for they traded even pieces for pieces of bowls and broken glass cups, and I even saw 16 balls of cotton given for three Portuguese ceotis [copper coins], which is a Castilian blanca [a copper coin worth half of a maravedi]. And in them there was probably more than an arroba [around 24 pounds] of spun cotton.

This I had forbidden and I did not let anyone take any of it, except that I had ordered it all taken for Your Highnesses if it were in quantity. It grows here on this island, but because of the short rime I could not declare this for sure. And also the gold that they wear hung in their noses originates here; but in order not to lose time I want to go see if I can find the island of Cipango.

Now, since night had come, all the Indians went ashore in their dugouts.

Much later he ran into the Caribs. Who were cannibals.

The Glitter Of Gold

From 2011 In the summer of 1993 Tall Meg and I drove from LA to New York in her 1966 Studebaker Lark. Tall Meg was in love with a man in New York and I was returning to no one. She was in a hurry, but had never made the cross-country trip, so we detoured from the Interstate and headed into the desert. The first night I erred thinking that there were plenty of motel rooms in Monument Valley in Arizona. We arrived at dusk to discover the two motels were sold out. That evening Tall Meg and I crashed in the car parked off the road leading to Colorado. Both of us were too tired to travel any farther.

"At least the seats fold down." The night was lit by the cosmos. Kerouac and Cassidy might have traveled down this road.

"Don't say anything." Tall Meg was pissed at me. It was cold in the high plains. Cars passed every few minutes. I stepped outside and stared at the billions of stars clustered in the sky. I couldn't recollect ever having seen so many. Tall Meg joined me.

"A lot of stars." She was still angry at me, but her eyes shined with the heaven.

In the morning we continued on our way. People were happy to see her car.

"What is it?" Most asked at the car stations. Tall Meg told them everything about her car. They waved good-bye and we entered the Rockies, stopping the night at a small hotel in Leadville, the highest city in the USA. We struggled to sleep in the high altitude. My lungs struggled to get my breath. Both of us woke at dawn. The road was downhill from Leadville. By the end of the day we would be in the plains. I stopped at a mountain stream that would become the Arkansas River and thought about swimming until Tall Meg pointing out that the crystal water which would was laden with the poisonous aftermath of gold mine owned by the Newmont Corporation.

"It's dead."

"And been dead for a long time."

Tall Meg and I left the river and I have thought about that sign on the Arkansas since then.

There were few clear streams left in America and the mining entity known as Newmont has moved much of its operations overseas. Last week the Peru government yielded to demands of local residents to stop the development of a massive gold pit in the Cajamarca region some 3700 meters above sea level. Residents had set up roadblocks to prevent any attempt by Newmont to drain glacier-fed lakes to support their mining operation. Newmont had proposed another set of negotiations, dangling the prospect of jobs before the locals. Such promises have been before to the people in Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand, Ghana and Peru with success, for Newmont produced 5.4 million ounces of gold last year. With gold at an all-time high Newmont is the most successful gold mining operation in the world, however the locals living in the shadow of their mines have complained about deadly pollution and the failure to provide well-paid jobs to the community.

Newmont has been ignored these protests with the help of the government who are in the pocket of the mining giant. They have escaped audits for taxes and royalty payment thanks to a legion of lawyers. Managers are adept at short-changing workers overtime in foreign countries and contributed to the danger of mining by avoiding adherence to safety regulations. The CIA has repeatedly acted in favor of Newmont to the detriment of the workers and local communities. All that glitters might be gold, but that gold is not for everyone. Not in America and not in Peru.

Memories Of Palestine

Several years ago I was getting gold chains on 47th Street to show a customer at the Plaza Hotel store opened by Richie Boy. Business was slow at the exchange and the older gold dealer asked with a Levantine accent, "Where are you from?"

"Boston." No one in the Diamond District had ever asked my origins. I am a goy. Gentiles don't really count except on the Shabbath, when the Hassidim need us to turn on the lights.

"Are you Jewish?" He picked out several heavy necklaces.

"No, I'm the Shabbath Goy."

"I'm not Jewish either. I'm an Armenian born in Israel." Armenians are scattered through the jewelry business. "I left in 1957."

"That's a while ago." I had been five when he arrived in the USA

"I've spent my entire working life on this street."

"And have you ever seen times like this?" I signed the memo.

"Never."

"Not even in Palestine." I put the gold necklaces into a packet and slipped it into my jacket.

"That's the first time I've ever heard anyone on this street call it that." He smiled with a lost sadness. "Palestine. It wasn't like they said. It was beautiful. More natural. Like Utah. And the fruit. It wasn't fake like now. But what can you do?"

"Just remember I guess." Like I remember so many good things in New York like the Second Avenue Deli, the St. Mark's Movie Theater, and CBGBs.

"Well, have a good day."

I thanked him for his best wishes and headed back to the Plaza Hotel. It was a little after 10.

My cellphone rang. It was Richie Boy.

"Why aren't you at the Plaza?"

"I had to pick up some pieces to show a customer." The Plaza store had nothing like them in our inventory

"Hurry up."

"Yeah, sure." I hung up and slowed my pace.

In the past no one was in such a hurry as the 21st Century.

Certainly not in Boston and not Palestine.

I was going to open late.

It happened every day when business was slow.

The Thai Anti-MIdas Touch

One of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen in Pattaya was Ann. Her beauty lasted longer than most, as she bathed in the fountain of youth created by her countless sponsors’ generous donation of cash and clothing. The veteran mistress managed these farangs with the skill of a circus juggler yet she was always broke, for beauty has its costs.

Several years ago one night at the Marine Disco a French marine asked Ann to go home. Her refusal evoked an expletive in his native language. Ann had had many frog beaus in her career and told the dejected garlic-eater, “Fuck ta mère.”

The Frenchman reacted to this insult to his mother by throwing a glass of beer in Ann’s face. The impact shattered the glass and a shard tore an inch scar behind her jaw. Blood splattered on the dance floor. Ann was taken to the hospital. Angry Thais wanted to kill the farang. The police arrested him. The chief inspector said that he was looking at 6 months in jail, but after coming out of the hospital Ann settled for 500,000 baht plus medical cost to drop charges. After the French marine paid the money, he was freed from the monkey house with a warning to be nicer to young girls.

Ann's scar was no threat to her beauty. Friends congratulated her good luck. The police took their cut on the action leaving Ann with about 400,000 baht.

The average annual income in Ann's Isaan village is about 60,000 baht. If she retired to Bannok, that money could last years, but Ann was too young to quit the game, so she sent home 50,000 and spent his punitive reward in less than a week.

10 baht of gold = 100K.

New motorcycle = 50K.

Partying for a week = 50K.

New clothes = 50K.

Lending money to friends = 50K.

Money goes quick when you’re having fun, but even Ann was surprised how fast 400K evaporated with the pedal pushed to the metal.

Jamie Parker, a man of little wisdom, heard this story of riches to rags and said, “The Midas Touch works in reverse for a Thai bargirl. Any gold they touch turns into lead, but it doesn’t matter because they think, “There’s plenty more where that went.”

Jamie was right, because a week later Ann was seeing the French marine.

They were in love.

Kwahm Lak 100%., because a girl has to live.

The roots of this need to spend is highlighted in an article from this 1928 article featured in 2bangkok.com

Bangkok, Siam… It has always been a moot question in all minds as to why people of Siam are never over-burdened with riches. Now the answer comes in the form of a series of pictures which demonstrates in graphic way how surplus riches of the people are disposed of. When a man of Siam thinks he’s too wealthy to go to heaven he promptly goes out and purchases as much food, clothing, fruit, etc. as will relieve him of his surplus money. He then mounts a high platform built for the express purpose and throws his gifts down to members of the poorer class below. Since all have a right to the food and clothing offered a merry battle goes on for possession of the offerings. Hooks are even made which might tend to give the seeker a better chance to make a good haul. However, before the foodstuffs and clothing are given away, prayers and praises to the king of the devil or “Phya Yomaraj” are sung. The prayers insure the donors of recognition when they dies and are led before the king of the devil for entrance to heaven. After the prayers are said and the food distributed, the huge image is burnt, and residents of Siam must wait until they pile up more coin of the realm before they can stage another similar celebration. This article was published by a Thai newspaper in October 23, 1928.

Easy come, easy go.

Something things stay the same and the same is sometimes good.