Indiana Jones Explores the Incas

author: John Malam

illustrator: Jeffrey Burn

Arcade, 1993

grades 5-7 

Inca

I have to admit that I am a fan of Steven Spielberg’s “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and that the idea of being guided through the world of the Inca by Indiana Jones did, indeed, sound interesting. That was before I actually read the book. Unfortunately, this approach does more harm than good.

The book is divided into sections dealing with the political structure of Inca society from farming to religion. It offers a lot of information, most of which is consistent with standard anthropological interpretations. I doubt that modern Inca agree with either the book’s attempt or approach in presenting their past and the “scientific” interpretations of their culture. And the descriptions of burial practices along with photos of mummified remains are hideous and disrespectful.

Little Indiana Joneses seem to pop up out of nowhere and add nothing to this otherwise formulaic book. In almost every two-page section is a photo of Indie taken directly from one of the movies and/or a small “fact file” supposedly written by him. These inserts have no direct connection to the material in the sections. Instead of becoming part of the “action,” these shots of Indie appear to have been randomly pasted on by one of the young people for whom this book is intended. The problem is that whatever respect one might have had for the Inca and their accomplishments gets chucked out the door as snickers and outright guffaws accompany the ridiculous juxtaposition of, for instance, a bare-chested, machete-wielding Indie above a scene of a local village bridge, or Indie again, in a white tuxedo with a bright red carnation in the lapel in front of a photo of a busy street in Lima. Not recommended.

—Marco Palma
(published 4/14/13)

This review first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Legend of Mexicatl

author: Jo Harper

Illustrator: Robert Casilla

Turtle Books, 1998

kindergarten-grade 3 

Mexica (Aztec)

First off, it was hard for me to tell whether this story was supposed to be about the Mexica (Aztecs), or if it was really about Jesus. The story is about a boy, Mexicatl, who is called upon by a generic “Great Spirit” to eventually lead his people to their promised land. Upon opening the book to the first page, I was struck by how much the first illustration appears like so many nativity scenes that one would expect to find in a church. Although this will probably make the book appealing to Catholics with Mexican roots, it does not tell us anything about the Mexica people. There are many accounts about the journey that the Mexica took from Aztlán to what is now Mexico City. Some of these are Native accounts while others are colonial Spanish stories. Amidst all the academic argument and speculation, all the contradiction and inconsistency, the author seems to have found it easy to put forward her version of a “glorious triumph of faith and courage.”

There is something subtle and maybe even insidious about the Christianization of what is not a Christian story. Rather than honor the culture of which the real legend of Mexicatl is a part, it suggests that there is something that needs to be improved by rewriting it and that the Mexica people can be redeemed only by being compared to early Christians. I think that Friar Bernardino de Sahagún, on whose colonizing works this particular version is based, would have been envious that he did not think of manipulating the legend in this way. No doubt he would have put it to good use in his efforts to stamp out from the Mexica any trace of their Native worldview and spirituality.

The one good thing about this book is the illustrations by Robert Casilla, whose wife and son were the models for Mexicatl and his mother. The skin tones are realistic, the facial features are not exaggerated, the people look like real people. The illustrations are actually better than most you would expect to find in children’s books about Mexica, Maya, or Inca. Still, this in itself is not reason to buy the book. Not recommended.

—Marco Palma
(published 4/13/13)

This review first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Hands-On Latin America: Art Activities for All Ages

 

author: Yvonne Y. Merrill

Kits Publishing, 1997

grades 3-up 

Mexica, Inca, Maya

I can’t imagine why anyone would want to use this book. There’s no information on the pieces children are being taught to make. Any child or teacher with an inquiring mind would ask: Where were the originals of these pieces made? Who made them? For whom were they made? What were their uses? As a teacher who does project-based teaching, I found myself looking for at least photos of the original pieces and any kind of information to answer these questions. And as an Indian woman, I can't in good conscience tell my culturally diverse students that they’re “Latin American art pieces.” That is just not enough.

The food page in particular ranks up there in bad taste. I teach my students that what people ate and thrived on was what grew in their areas and that the availability of food was usually why people came to a certain area. The author's statement—“Here are some of the foods that were new to the world with the Spanish conquests”—is ungrammatical and confusing and sets the tone for the European-American “us-versus-them” perspective that permeates the entire book.

A few glaring misses: The map shows the continent of South America, Central America and a little of Mexico, but does not include the United States or Canada when in fact, some of the art work is purely North American, north of Mexico—the luminarias for instance. The Mexica (Aztec) symbols are referred to as “designs” when in fact each had and has great importance relating to specific aspects of a belief system. The historic pieces relating to belief and ritual—such as Mexica headbands, medallions and rattles—are shown as craft objects, devoid of meaning, easily constructed out of paper, pasta, paint and canning lids. Each design on each piece had a specific meaning; rituals associated with them were sometimes known by all, sometimes known only by initiates. In any event, they were not simply things for children to copy and play with.

To give this book “educational” value, Merrill has incorporated what she considers important to know on several full pages and after many of the craft instructions. These “facts” mostly range from strange to unintelligible to ridiculous. In a paragraph labeled “Health Care and Hygiene,” there is some useful information, followed by this:

The New World natives had an impressive knowledge of the human body, derived largely from human sacrifice and body dissection. Mesoamerican “surgeons” used sharp obsidian knives and were skilled in drilling for brain injuries.

Sacrificed bodies were considered holy and were not defiled by dissection, nor were they used for educational purposes. The “impressive knowledge” in science and medicine was derived from the need to better the human condition, and trephining was done to relieve pain and pressure on the brain. By surrounding the word “surgeons” with quotes, Merrill implies that people were not surgeons, but rather “primitive” people poking around with sharp instruments.

A page about the Maya is illustrated with a drawing of a person’s head, with arrows pointing to “knotted hair,” “crossed eyes,” “filed pointed teeth filled with jade,” “sloped forehead,” and “tattoos.” Above the drawing, Merrill writes, “[A]rcheologists know the Maya had an unusual beauty code.” Her use of the word “archeologists” is incorrect; people who interpret archeological finds to theorize about their cultural relevance are called “cultural anthropologists.” There was always a purpose or reason for everything that was done; in this case, it might have been beauty, spirituality, status or class. Using the term “unusual” here is patronizing, as is “beauty code.” The picture Merrill shows may well be that of someone belonging to a warrior society, possibly jaguar, whose members personified certain cultural icons. In any event, it’s made to look like a frivolous beauty style filtered through a modern European sensibility. This is not a good thing to do.

In “New World Influences,” Merrill writes: “Though their governing power was quickly eliminated, the New World resources and knowledge forever changed the European lifestyle.” Can anyone tell me what this means? Finally, my favorite “doesn't-quite-make-it” quote: “In most cases they called themselves by their indigenous name: the Chimus or Chancas of the Inca empire, the Mixtecs or Toltecs of the Aztec empire.” What else on Earth would they call themselves? Would they use Spanish names they had never heard?

The “Art Today” section is surprisingly good, mainly because there is no history to mess with. Most of the items are highly visible in modern culture and have become popular to display and make. However, there are better sources for teaching students that include photographs of actual pieces with accurate histories that allow children to learn about the original peoples of this hemisphere in a respectful, non-racist way. Not recommended.

—Judy Zalazar Drummond 
(published 4/13/13)

This review first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Discovering the Inca Ice Maiden: My Adventures on Ampato // A Gift for Ampato

author: Johan Reinhard

National Geographic, 1998

grades 4-6 

Inca

Incredibly detailed, close-up photos of a frozen Incan mummy, a 14-year-old who lived about 500 years ago, send shivers up my spine. I don't think I'll sleep well tonight, picturing the little frozen girl clutching her dress tightly to her body. Why was she buried on the rim of a volcano? Was it human sacrifice, as the author states and describes in great detail? Or was it something else? I feel like he's taking me on an invasive tour of this young woman's death, relishing the blood-curdling “sacrifice” aspect of the whole tour de ice force.

Young readers will love Discovering the Inca Ice Maiden; it is easy to read, almost as if the author were telling a tale to a fourth- or fifth-grader, and the gruesome pictures will totally capture their interest. Strange that violence, mutilation, and human sacrifice are what make our children want to read. And it is this kind of information that the education system mandates in their social studies frameworks.

Reinhard takes us step by step on this “discovery” (I think “encountering” is a better word). It reminds me of Donald Johanson's writing about “Lucy,” the “Australopithecus Afarensis” woman he encountered in Hadar, Ethiopa. He stumbled on Lucy’s remains in much the same way Reinhard stumbled on the “Ice Maiden” by being in the right place at the right time, or as Johanson says, “I guess I'm just lucky. Luck plays a big part in this business.”

I found myself studying the many maps and photographs with a magnifying glass to sift through the grains of pumice, the volcanic ash, and the ice floes to see if I could uncover anything myself—the photographs from the National Geographic team are that clear and compelling.

Several years ago in Tampa, Florida, I toured an exhibit that had been confiscated as part of a smuggling plan gone awry. It was being displayed for a short time before being sent back to Cuzco. All of this is to say: What is the right way to handle cultural invasion? Ask a “leading authority” about human sacrifice in ancient Inca civilization? Send the mummy to Johns Hopkins for x-ray techno-games-analysis? Hurry back to the site to make sure no other “robber” gets the prize before “you” can cart it down the mountainside? You know, ethical things like that. Still, the story is compelling and I couldn't put it down. But I am pretty sure I'm going to have nightmares involving feathers and gold and silver statues—all very, very cold. Recommended with caveats.

  

author: Susan Vande Griek, Susan 

illustrator: Mary Jane Gerber

Groundwood Books, 1999

grades 5-8 

Inca

It was only a matter of time—one year, to be exact—before Reinhard’s finding found its way into a young adult novel. It happened in A Gift for Ampato, Susan Vande Griek’s heavy-handed, badly written, Eurocentric recreation of Inca society 500 years ago.

Timta and her friend Karwa are both selected to be “chosen ones,” young girls groomed for life in the sacrifice pool of the Great Inca. Chosen to become the ultimate sacrifice, Timta does not want the honor, saying to her friend,

I cannot see myself among the gods, Karwa. I only want to stay here among my people and the llamas in this stony valley. Oh, Karwa, you are so good, so believing, so sure of things. Why can't I be like that?

Karwa lets her off the hook by answering,

I think we are each as we are, Timta. What is right for me maybe is not what is right for you, no matter what the priests or women say. I would gladly go to the gods for my people, for you. Can you see that, Timta? Do you understand? I would go for you.

At the same time, Riti, whose own daughter had been sacrificed the last time the gods were angry (the volcano was letting off minor eruptions) has had it with these people. She packs up her things, loads them on her llamas, and is leaving for the coast when she meets up with the runaway Timta, saves her from the guards, and together they head down the mountain to a new life away from human sacrifice and false gods.

Maybe young Inca women were rebellious of family and society in those days. Maybe they did run away from responsibility. Maybe they did think of themselves as individuals rather than as members of a highly defined society. Maybe they would let a friend take their place at the most important event in their lives. Maybe they did possess the same values as modern American middle-class teenagers who are products of over-permissive parenting and a materialistic culture. Or, more likely, maybe the author decided that young readers couldn’t possibly relate to teenage members of a society in which emphasis is placed on the welfare of the group rather than that of the individual. In any case, this book just doesn’t work. 

Why is the idea of human sacrifice seen as something to which today’s young people cannot relate? Why are gory details that both fascinate and repel young people—and set into a fake social context—seen as worthwhile reading? If this concept were discussed in terms relevant to young people—like Buddhist monks who believe in something so deeply that they are willing to give their lives; or like young men being sent off to die in wars they do not understand—maybe then the term “human sacrifice” would make more sense. Not recommended.

—Judy Zalazar Drummond
(published 4/11/13)

These reviews, in a slightly different form, first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Children of Guatemala // The Children of the Sierra Madre // Children of Yucatán // The Grandchildren of the Incas

author: Jules Hermes

photographer: Jules Hermes

Carolrhoda Picture Books / Lerner Publishing, 1997

grades 2-4 

Maya

Children of Guatemala is an interestingly uneven book. It is not blatantly patronizing or ignorant; the author is really working at being an observer, even though he constantly shows his frame of reference—downtown Minneapolis. For example, he says that “[t]he market offers a break from everyday work and gives friends a chance to catch up on the latest news.” Jules! No, wait! The market is the goal! The object of the week's labors! The place to sell what you produce, to trade for essentials, to buy what you need to feed your family! Then, it is a place to hear the news, to catch up on important events, and, always, a place to socialize. It's not the mall!

On the other hand, Hermes is not afraid to discuss political situations, from the horrible 1990 massacre by the government in Santiago Atitlán, to the 80,000 Maya who have been brutally murdered by their own government since 1978, the longest “civil war” ever. He also talks about the lack of government support for public education and shows teachers and students picketing for quality education.

Hermes ought to have mentioned Rigoberta Menchú, the Mayan hero who won the Nobel Peace Prize for her unflagging quest to educate the world about Guatemala’s genocide against its indigenous peoples. That would be the logical extension for study from this beautifully photographed book. Marginally recommended.

author: Frank Staub

photographer: Frank Staub

Carolrhoda Picture Books / Lerner Publishing, 1996

grades 3-5

Tarahumara

In Children of the Sierra Madre, Staub highlights the U.S. influence on Latin America, using as an example the Tarahumara who live in the Sierra Madre region of Mexico near Chihuahua. He describes a strong class system in this region, ruled by the “white” Mexicans with the “Mestizos” doing all the work, even though many of his photos show “white” Mexicans and Mestizos doing just about same thing. I don't know, as a Chicana, I think we’re all pretty much a mixture of whoever landed on our shores or stormed up our creeks.

Staub obscures the issues of the theft of Tarahumara land and impoverishment of the people by presenting fact as opinion: “[M]any Tarahumara want to live apart from Mexicans, whom they think of as intruders in their land.” He describes the Tarahumara, rather than as the freedom fighters they have always been, regarded by most Mexicans with awe because of their steadfast opposition to colonialism, as merely “wanting to stick to the old ways.”

Staub’s discussion of Tarahumara religion is useful as a model of why one ought not to interpret a culture one doesn’t understand. He says, “Many Tarahumara have combined Catholicism with their traditional religious beliefs. They believe the Christian god is the same as their god, called Onoruame (Great Father) or Repa Beteame (He Who Lives Above).” Way wrong. Part of the Tarahumara’s self-imposed isolation is to worship the gods they choose. The Catholic Church reluctantly had to let the Mestizos as well as the Indigenous population maintain their own gods, as long as they took the form of the Catholic ones. For example, the Virgin of Guadalupe, with her dark skin and close ties with the people, is not the Virgin Mary; she is the people’s representation of Tonatzín, the goddess of home and hearth, and is only one of the aspects of Cuatlique, the Mother of the Gods. The church let that one slip by because forcing Guadalupe out would have caused mass revolt; it was easier to “say” she was the Virgin Mary. Every church in Mexico has at least one statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe, usually where Jesus should be; in small churches there often is no statue of Jesus at all. This book is terrible. Not recommended.

 

author: Frank Staub

photographer: Frank Staub

Carolrhoda Picture Books / Lerner Publishing, 1996

grades 3-5 

Maya

Children of Yucatán is a travel guide rather than a children’s book, highlighting the exotic in dress, food, marketplaces, and of course, “ruins.” To the Maya, these “ruins” are temples, holy places that, despite the best efforts of the conquistadores and the Catholic Church, have endured.

Deeply embedded throughout the text is an attitude of paternalistic superiority and colonialist arrogance. Here is but one example out of many insulting passages:

One reason the people of Yucatán treat their ancestors with such respect is that they have provided their grandchildren with an important source of income. People come from all over the world to see the wonderful stone structures the ancient Maya left behind. And when visitors come, they spend money on food, hotels, and souvenirs.

This is one of the worst racist, elitist, patronizing, and paternalistic attitudes toward another culture I have seen in my 48 years of teaching. Not recommended.

author: Matti A. Pitkanen

photographer: Matti A. Pitkanen

Carolrhoda Picture Books / Lerner Publishing, 1991

grades 2-4 

Inca (Quechua, Aymara)

The photographs in The Grandchildren of the Incas are stunning; they are of people being themselves, looking into the camera more with pride than with fear. They are a gritty look at how the Quechua and Aymara have been able to survive Spanish conquest. Many continue traditional ways, living in the mountains, herding sheep, llamas and alpacas, and of course, farming the rugged slopes of the Andes Mountains.

The text is, for the most part, clear and accurate, especially about farming and herding. I found it curious, though, that the author tells us that almost every man, woman, and child wears a hat, but doesn’t mention the extreme cold and the need to protect the head from hypothermia, even though everyone wears sandals. He also mentions people leaving their mountain villages to work as servants in the cities to “make more opportunity for” themselves, but does not say that they are trying to help their families survive.

What bothers me most is the glossing over of the Spanish conquest. When Pitkanen says that “[n]ow the treasures are gone and so are many of the Inca's buildings,” the brutal manner in which the Inca Empire was destroyed and the people forced into slavery, with the survivors thrust into abject poverty, comes off as trivial. To his credit, the author mentions that the Inca fought back and that, “[d]uring the last half of the 20th century, the Quechua have begun to work together to make some changes. They have regained some of the land that was taken from them, and they are starting to demand that the people in government pay attention to their needs.”

Overall, I would use the book, mainly for its realistic photos: an unromantic look at a people struggling for survival. But I would direct students to look up Tupac Amaru and read about indigenous resistance movements. They might learn a lot about what was done in the name of Christianity and the people who are still fighting for their lives. Marginally recommended.

—Judy Zalazar Drummond

(published 4/11/13)

These reviews, in a slightly different form, first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.