Three Years Among the Patagonians

 Three Years Among the Patagonians: Passionate Account of a Frenchman Captive in Patagonia (1856–1859) – Auguste Guinnard

I received this book as a birthday gift. After having read others from the same collection, I eventually got around to reading this one. As far as accounts of captives go, this is the second one I have read in terms of chronological age, and I think that is something important, at least to me. The book is not difficult to read, even though the author has a very well-crafted writing style. Throughout the text, Guinnard constantly repeats how badly he had it during his captivity; you can really tell he suffered. Perhaps he exaggerated some passages a bit for the sake of the story—I don't think so, but I read something along those lines suggesting it. However, considering that such an opinion was formulated regarding the author's experiences more than a hundred years later, I believe it shouldn't be given much credibility. The author constantly expresses the sufferings he endured as a result of the mistreatment he received at the hands of the Indians. Except for Calfucurá's tribe—whom he speaks very well of—the rest of the three or four tribes that held him as a slave subjected him to cruel and inhuman treatment, which the author recounts and describes in the book.

If we take into account the account of another captive from a few years earlier (the case of Bourne, who was able to write while he was still a captive), Guinnard's case differs because he wrote it once he was already back in France, meaning he had to rely on his memory. That doesn't make it any less interesting, though. Incredibly, much like Bourne, Guinnard does not mention the names of the indigenous people nor does he make any allusion to what they called each other.

It is interesting due to the meticulous descriptions he provides of the lifestyle, uses, and customs of the aborigines.

Otherwise, the account is also gripping because he dedicates three or four chapters to the period when he was no longer captive yet still led a somewhat unusual life as he traveled from place to place trying to reach France.

Something that caught my attention is that he mentions "and my family portraits" two or three times, along with the suffering he felt when they were stolen by the Indians. While it is common for a person to carry photographs of their immediate family in their wallet and/or purse—or more presently, the number of photos many carry on their personal phones—I had never read about travelers of yesteryear walking around with portraits of their family members. I try to imagine what they looked like, how they were made, what size they were, etc.

If there is something I didn't like about the book—at least partially—it is the preliminary study by Analía Castro (Degree in Anthropology). In part, yes, because she differentiates between Pampas and Patagonians, and perhaps that creates confusion among readers, even for Guinnard himself, as she states on page 11: "the subject is an enigma that only Guinnard or his editors could have cleared up." What I didn't like is positioning the Indians as victims—using Guinnard's text—victims of a policy, of certain governments, of a generation, etc. But in this particular text, the one who was the victim was Guinnard, and he was the victim of a band of savages.

Licentiate Castro uses phrases like "they had the opportunity, intentional or not..." to justify Guinnard's writing as a testimony. Despite having been subjected to the cruelty of this group of Indians, it was not an "opportunity"; in the author's case, it was an obligation imposed by force.

She then continues: "the reader must be cautious and discern between the subjective appreciations of the writer, biased by the thinking of the era." What can one think when he writes and describes how they took white female captives, how they killed children, how they skinned other Indians, etc., and all the savagery they committed? It was not Guinnard who killed and tortured; it was not Guinnard who subjected Indians to slavery; it was not Guinnard who traded a person from tribe to tribe in exchange for horses, alcohol, and tobacco, etc. It was precisely the other way around. For example, the Indians had a very clear notion of right and wrong, and for them stealing was wrong. Now, stealing from white people was perfectly justified, but stealing among themselves was judged by the cacique, who decided either the death of the thief or the payment of a ransom (as reparation).

Furthermore, "appreciations biased by the thinking of the era" applies equally to the present moment: using our perspective to analyze past events—in this case, trying to justify the Indians' actions toward their victim in order to victimize the Indians and diminish the value of what Guinnard experienced and suffered.

She mentions "The study of the ethnic question," but the book is not about a study of "the ethnic question"; the book is an account of a captivity. The one studying "the ethnic question" in the "preliminary study" (tendentiously?) is Castro, not Guinnard.

I only see confusion (intentional or not?), a mixture of everything. One thing is a specific tribe, and quite another is a very different tribe, not an "ethnic unit." One thing are the years 1856–1859 when Guinnard was a captive, and quite another are the years 1878–1885 when the Conquest of the Desert was carried out. It seems clear to me that there are almost 20 years of distance between one event and the other. Aside from those advances into the land occupied by the indigenous people in the years before and during Guinnard's captivity, it was not nearly as massive as during the Conquest of the Desert. One thing is a Study of the Ethnic Question, and quite another is A Travel Account. And I could go on; it seems to me that these are clearly differentiated issues and each deserves individual treatment, without detracting from the others and without mixing everything together, which only produces confusion.

Regarding "...and due to a traumatic experience": So what? Are we to diminish the value of his account after he was subjected to and tortured for years by a band of savages? What does having gone through a traumatic experience have to do with it? I can think of countless model cases of people who have gone through a traumatic experience and are not dismissed for that reason regarding their opinion on what happened.

Truly, reading this "preliminary study"—which in my view is tendentious, insinuating and/or favoring a radical defense of a group lumped into a "unit of analysis"—is disheartening. The text written by Guinnard has nothing to do with the opinion expressed in the Preliminary Study presented with the text.

From what I understood of Guinnard's text, and trying to understand the mindset of the era regarding how he refers to the Indians, Guinnard does not look upon the Indians as "enemies" of his own accord; rather, they put themselves in that attitude toward him. And those who did not treat him as an "enemy" (Calfucurá and his "village or settlement"), Guinnard did not portray as "enemies."

In short, the author tells a story as a captive, and the author of the preliminary study, writing more than a hundred years later with a modern perspective, delivers a sort of plea for the native and voiceless peoples (when she mentions "a 'non-official' perspective").

Returning to the account, before I forget, I must mention that after his escape, someone followed him: a dog that ended up being his companion and travel partner for a long stretch. He had named him Chileno. One situation with him amused me and was as follows: "After many turns, we reached the hollow of the cordillera, which concealed a trickle of water immediately discovered by Chileno, who did not hesitate to plunge into it for the sole purpose of refreshing himself both outwardly and inwardly. I followed his example, then looked for a favorable spot to spend the night. Once settled, I took out some bread, which we both ate with joy. However, that first meal, alongside my faithful companion, inspired greater caution for the future, for the rascal, unaccustomed to feeding himself in that fashion, took such a liking to it that he found it very simple to seize the rest of my share, which, without the slightest suspicion, I had left beside me."

To conclude this brief personal commentary on this book, I want to add that I searched the internet for Auguste Guinnard and found almost nothing. Just that he returned to France in 1861 and served as Secretary of the Paris Geographical Society. What caught my attention is that Jules Verne cites him in the book In Search of the Castaways (The Children of Captain Grant). And one more thing: an article in Página/12 from 2002 and also in Clarín from the same date, at the following links (http://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/suplementos/radar/9-126-2002-03-23.html and http://edant.clarin.com/diario/2002/03/30/s-03702.htm), talk about an artist (Leonel Luna) who reproduced the original engravings of that account in the form of digitally processed photographs. He even has a blog with some of them: http://augusteguinnard.blogspot.com.ar/