author: Beatriz Vidal
author: Nancy Van Laan
illustrator: by Beatriz Vidal
Alfred A.
Knopf, 1991
preschool-grade 4
Latin American, Chibcha
In an
introductory note, Vidal writes that, as a child in Argentina, she first heard
the stories about El Dorado from her father; and much later, she came across
the “original source,” which inspired her to paint this “rich and fascinating
treasure.” Vidal showed her version to her colleague, Van Laan, who “had the
right poetic voice,” and the two decided to collaborate on something that would
appeal to young readers “without losing the romantic, tragic flavor of the
tale.”
There are many,
many variations of the El Dorado story. Some contain a cacique, who covered his
body with gold dust each day before jumping into the lake to bathe. Some
involve the lake itself, into which gold would be thrown in political or
spiritual ceremonies. Some contain a description of the city as a vast kingdom
where gold was so plentiful that it was used to construct whole houses. Some
involve women and children being thrown into the lake, either as sacrifices or
as punishment. Some involve a cacique’s wife who throws herself into the lake
to escape a horrible punishment for her sins, and survives there as a deity. And
other variations are so violent and gory as to compete with a Mexican
telenovela gone rogue.
In Vidal and Van
Laan’s version, the wife and daughter of a wealthy Chibcha “king,” lured by the
dazzling sight of a ruby-eyed emerald serpent, disappear into the waters of
Lake Guatavita. The high priest speaks to the serpent, who assures him that the
“queen” and “princess” are safe and happy and will be reunited with the king,
but only if he rules wisely. So each year, he covers himself with gold dust
(thereby becoming known as “El Dorado”) and throws his treasures and himself
into the lake to remind the serpent of its promise. One year he doesn’t
reappear—the serpent has kept its promise: the king is reunited with his lost
family.
Vidal’s
mixed-media art—lush tropical scenes in bejeweled tones of mostly blues,
greens, and reds—are reminiscent of Paul Gauguin’s post-impressionist work. The
Indian subjects are mystical and primitive, and perfectly complement the text,
which focuses, not on the people as fully developed humans, but as mystical and
primitive. There’s lots of gold throughout. The title on the cover shines. The
endpapers depict tropical birds flitting around golden beads. There’s gold dust
on the king’s body, on the earthen ground, and in and at the bottom of the
lake.
Before the
conquistadores got to them, there were some 500,000 Chibcha people,
who lived in the high valleys around what are now Bogotá and Tunja, Colombia.
They were centralized politically and their economy was based mostly on
intensive agriculture and considerable trade, which provided the gold used for
ornaments and offerings. In the 16th Century, the Spanish invasions
crushed the Chibcha political structure, and in the next 200 years, the
language was all but obliterated as well.
What have been
mislabeled as Indigenous “myths” or “legends” are cultural histories and
teachings, passed down from generation to generation. Since the Chibcha
political and economic systems were never based on gold, the “legend of El
Dorado” is not, and never was, a Chibcha legend.
A brief
digression about the history of the “legend of El Dorado”:
In the early
part of the 16th Century, fantastic stories circulated throughout
Europe about a city of immense wealth somewhere in the Americas, a place of
untold riches, a place that contained so much gold that it later became known
as “El Dorado.” In this city, it was said, the people adorned themselves, head
to toe, with gold; they even painted themselves and the trees and the rocks
with gold! Heavily financed and heavily armed by the royals and other wealthy
families, the explorers and conquistadores raced to the Western Hemisphere to
find, conquer, and occupy El Dorado and the people who lived there.
But wherever
they went, the locals pointed this way and that way—anywhere but where they were. And everywhere the
conquistadores landed, the story became more and more embellished. Now there
was a tribe—somewhere else—high up in
the Andes Mountains—that way—where
the cacique painted himself with gold dust each day before jumping into the
lake to bathe! Or down there in the
impenetrable jungles, where the people threw gold and precious jewels into the
water to appease the spirits! Or over
there, in the barren deserts, where could be found gold nuggets as large as
suckling pigs! Indeed, the Spaniards, who wanted so much to believe that they
were soon to encounter El Dorado, began to call the cacique of this unknown
tribe El Dorado.
After Cortés
sacked the great Mexica Empire in 1519 and Pizarro, the Inca Empire in 1532-33,
the conquistadores found some gold—but not very much—among the Indigenous
peoples living along the coast of South America. In the years that followed,
the conquistadores rampaged up and down the coast, plundering Indigenous towns
and villages and slaughtering hundreds of
thousands, if not millions, of people. But, of course, no one ever did
find El Dorado—because it existed only in the searchers’ fevered, gold-crazed
imaginations.
One of the
things that survived these atrocities was a story published in the journal of
Sebastián de Benalcázar, a chief lieutenant of Pizarro’s and a ruthless
conquistador who claimed that an “Indian” had told him about El Dorado. (This
is the account that Vidal names as the “original source” of her story.) But two
other scenarios are totally possible and more likely: one, that the anonymous
Indian was one of many who made up these stories to deflect the Spanish (and
let’s not forget the British and German) forces away from their own communities; or, two, that de
Benalcázar invented the story in order to bankroll new projects, justify new
incursions, and recruit new soldiers.
So Van Laan’s
version is her adaptation of Vidal’s father’s adaptation combined
with the adaptation of a mass murderer
who undoubtedly embellished the story (if he didn’t actually write it himself).
And from all this we get: A picture book for children.
The major
reviewers loved The Legend of El Dorado:
Booklist praised it as “a splendid
addition to folklore shelves and useful for showing the richness of Indian
culture prior to the arrival of European explorers.” Kirkus suggested that it was “just right for giving added dimension
to a unit on explorers.” And Publishers
Weekly called it a “splendid pairing of Van Laan’s suave retelling and
Vidal’s richly colored illustrations—meticulously executed and imbued with
primitive charm—capture all the beauty and mysticism of a culture from long ago
and far away.”
What’s wrong
with crafting a picture book out of a legend—that never existed—about a
fabulously wealthy tribe in South America—that never existed? And leaving out
the fact that versions of this legend were spread around Europe as a rationale
for greed and genocide? Indeed, Vidal and Van Laan’s The Legend of El Dorado, as a picture book, is dishonest: It
promotes a worldview that justifies rapacious colonialism, Manifest Destiny,
economic determinism and neo-liberalism.
When The Legend of El Dorado was being
created, written, illustrated, and finally published, Vidal and Van Laan
(and/or the editors and publisher) either didn’t know about the awful
repercussions of this fake “legend,” didn’t want to know about them, or didn’t
think they were important. Or did know
and didn’t care.
In fact, the
whole concept of teaching children about “myths” like these is that, absent any
cultural and/or historical contexts in which they were created, they portray
Indigenous peoples as ignorant, superstitious, materialistic, and therefore
deserving of conquest. Or being wiped out entirely. It’s a setup. Now, more than
ever, we have to be responsible enough to be truthful, to talk about history,
not gloss over appalling things like genocide.
There is no
excuse for this; not even when it’s couched in ridiculous, incomprehensible,
New Age romanticism that neither children nor teachers will understand:
“As bits and
pieces of the treasure are recovered,” Vidal writes, “the real El Dorado begins
to unfold, the one that has lain dormant, waiting to be discovered, not by
conquerors but by true seekers. For El Dorado is much more than the physical
and glittering gold: it is that Inner City of the spirit, which one needs the
utmost purity of heart to enter.”
All of our
children deserve way better than this. Our Indian children do not need further
humiliation and our non-Indian children do not need more affirmation of their
alleged superiority. The Legend of El Dorado is not
recommended.
—Beverly Slapin
(published 6/17/13)
