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Streetcorner winkels and dispersed households :|male adaptation to marginality in a lower class creole neighborhood in Paramaribo

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Title:
Streetcorner winkels and dispersed households :|male adaptation to marginality in a lower class creole neighborhood in Paramaribo
Creator:
Brana-Shute, Gary, 1945-
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
x, 293 leaves. : illus. ; 28 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Brothers ( jstor )
Creoles ( jstor )
Fathers ( jstor )
Households ( jstor )
Lower class ( jstor )
Men ( jstor )
Mothers ( jstor )
Rituals ( jstor )
Trucks ( jstor )
Women ( jstor )
Anthropology thesis Ph. D ( lcsh )
Blacks -- Suriname -- Paramaribo ( lcsh )
Dissertations, Academic -- Anthropology -- UF ( lcsh )
Families -- Suriname -- Paramaribo ( lcsh )
Social conditions -- Paramaribo (Suriname) ( lcsh )
Genre:
bibliography ( marcgt )
non-fiction ( marcgt )

Notes

Thesis:
Thesis--University of Florida.
Bibliography:
Bibliography: leaves 284-292.
General Note:
Typescript.
General Note:
Vita.

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University of Florida
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University of Florida
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This item is presumed in the public domain according to the terms of the Retrospective Dissertation Scanning (RDS) policy, which may be viewed at http://ufdc.ufl.edu/AA00007596/00001. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions requires permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact the RDS coordinator (ufdissertations@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
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14174352 ( OCLC )

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STREET CO RIH WIXKEL AND 1I)PENSED HOUSEHOLDS:
MALE ADAPTATION TO fRGFIiALITY IN A LOWER CLASS CREOLE
NEIGHBORHOOD IN PARAMARIBO








By



GARY BRANA-SHUTE


A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCTT OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS
FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY




UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA


1974












ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The obligation of paying thanks is not a heavy one for me. I have been most fortunate and not a little bit lucky.

The Foreign Area Program, under grant 71-9, provided

funds for the execution of this project, generously allowing for both a pre-field stipnd for language study and for a complete second year renewal. The National Science Foundation, under grant GS-31215, provided supplementary funds.

The Foreign Area Program's affiliation policy offers a prtiDal solution, or at least aspires to finding a solution, to many of the still unresolved ethical questions surrounding research in foreign countries and the unsavory possibility of either consciously or unconsciously engaging in "academic imperialism." In order to open dialogue between the researcher and members of the host country society, I found two rich and warm institutional contacts in Suriname and one in the Netherlands.

Andre Loor of the Cultural Section of the Ministry of Education provided me with many hours of his time. His knowledge of Surinamese history added new dimensions to this study of Paramaribo. Jules Coutinho, of the Ministry of Public Works and Traffic, spent an equal number of hours pointing out the complexity and nature of problems facing

emerging nations. r. R. A. J. van Lier of the Department of Rural Sociology of the Tropics and sub-Tropics at
. -


ii








Wagningen, the Netherlands, agreed to act as an academic contact.

Contacts and grant monies facilitate a study of this

nature and make it possible. However, very little would appear on the following pages without the cooperation and kindness of my friends in Paramaribo in 1972 and 1973. It is to the people whose lives are described in these pages that I owe my greatest debt of gratitude. None of them have titles, in fact, many of their names cannot even be found in the telephone book. They are however dearly remembered. To the people of Frimangron I extend my warmest thanks.

The Department of Anthropology provided me with a

teaching assistantship during my entire residency at the University of Florida. Dr. Charles Wagley and the Program Steering Committee graciously arranged a write-up stipend from the "Tropical South American Research and Training Program". Aside from caring for my material well-being, I would like to thank the faculty for preparing me for the biggest undertaking in my academic career.

Graduate training can be as much suffocation as enlightenment. Finding an agreeable committee, and more importantly, an agreeable chairman, constitutes a necessity that everyone recognizes but few care to discuss. Dr. G. Alexander Moore, Jr., the chairman of my committee is a gentleman and with his guidance I systematically and enjoyably explored social anthropology. Dr. Ccrnelis Goslinga of the History Department proffered data regarding the


iii








colonial history of the Dutch in the Caribbean and time ari energy in introducing me to the Dutch language.

It is customary to conclude an acknowledgments section by showering praise on one's spouse--for typing, providing a soft shoulder, or putting up with erratic behavior. It would be unfair for me to thank my wife Rosemary, for intellectually this was her project as well as mine. Not only was she inseparably involved in every step of the research, from its design through the long and sometimes tedious hours of its execution, but she wielded expertise in areas where I at best would blunder.

Translations from Dutch and Snanan 'c: are mine, as

are any misinterpretations, incorrect citations or inaccurate observations.


- iv








TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page

Acknowledgments ii

List of Tables vi

List of Figures vii

Abstract viii

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION 1

Statement of Problem 1
Methodology 14
Plural Society 16
Notes 21

CHAPTER II: THE NEIGHBORHOOD IN SPACE AND TIME 23

Setting 23
History of Frimangron 47
Notes 66

CHAPTER III: THE WINKEL 67

A Few Characters 70
Men in Groups: Centrifugal and Centripedal Forces 96 Friendship and Mutual Aid 111
Strangers, Gossip, and Status Leveling 117
Interaction: Recruitment and Expulsion 123
Notes 141

CHAPTER IV: THE FAMILY, HOUSEHOLD AND DOMESTIC GROUPS
AS ACTION SET AND QUASI-GROUP 142

Household-Winkel Interaction 145
Case Studies 153
Notes 205

CHAPTER V: MARCELL'S STORY: SOCIAL PROBLEMS AND
RITUAL THERAPY 207

Notes 267

CHAPTER VI: CONCLUSION 268

Winkel Behavior, Serial Polygyny and Household Form 268 Winkel and Household Links 271
The Winkel as Headquarters 273
Notes 279

APPENDIX 280

BIBLIOGRAPHY 284

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 293
V










LIST OF TABLES

TABLE Page

I Working Population by Occupational Category
Ethnic Group and Sex 19

II Winkel Crew by Age, Salary, Residence, Mating Arrangement, etc. 100


. 0









LIST OF FIGURES


FIGURE One

Two

Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Elev en Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-one

Twenty-two


Map of Suriname

Map of Paramaribo Paramaribo--A Few Typical Street Profiles A Few Categories of Land Use

Traditional City Gutters First Subdivisions of Frimangron, 1772 Post 1772 Expansion of Frimangron Partial Map of Neighborhood F - Frimangron Population Density of Paramaribo

Schill's Relationships Josha and Adolf's Ritual Participants Josha and Adolf's Residential Arrangement

Josha and Adolf's Economic Networks Josha and Adolf's Expanded Household Myra's Household Over Time and Space Betty's Household and Tangent Arrangements Marcell's Residential Arrangement Marcell's Residential Arrangements Marcell's Residential Arrangements Marcell's Expanded Households Marcell's Disbursal Patterns Ritual Symbol Used in Ceremony


vii


Page 25

33

38

43

46

50 53

62 65 157

166 171 176 178

184 193 196 197 199

201 203

247








Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Council of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy


STREETCORNER WINKELS AND DISPERSED HOUSEHOLDS:
MALE ADAPTATION TO MARGINALITY IN A LOWER CLASS CREOLE
NEIGHBORHOOD IN PARAMARIBO


By

GARY BRANA-SHUTE

December, 1974

Chairman: G. Alexander Moore, Jr. Major Department: Anthropology

A methodological and analytical concentration on women and children biased almost all prior studies of black West Indian society. By their occupation of a residential structure tied to a point in space, adult females and children have been relatively easy to locate, describe, and analyze. A relative neglect of the study of males resulted in portraits of black society populated almost solely by women and children, with males depicted as "somewhat shadowy figures who drift in and out of the lives of family members" (Liebow, 1967: 5). With black society described as Imatri-centered" or "matrifocal," matrifocality itself became an object of study without reference to extra-household developmental cycles, larger on-going connections with kindred and friends, or concern with all-male groups and points of male congregation. To help correct this bias, we must look at extra-household points of interaction around which males frequently and


viii








regularly aggregate and disperse during their adult lives.

This study deals with the survival strategies employed by groups of lower class Creoles in Paramaribo, Siriname to exploit their socio-economic environment by surrounding themselves with "action sets" (Mayer, 1966) composed of horizontal relationships to others sharing a similar socioeconomic situation. Attention focuses on male behavior, visualizing selected males, in varying positions along the

life cycle and on the status hierarchy, as egos in kin and non-kin networks. These networks can be located and defined by following the movements of males over time and space while recording the frequency, duration, and content of the relationships they establish. Seen from this perspective the

study of the dynamics of lower class social organization in adaptation to marginality, the selection of family, co-residential unit, or household as the concrete unit of observation is both misleading and inaccurate. Rather, these males and the relationships they form, with their conjugals, consanguines and friends, constitute the "minimal survival group" that transcends the family, household or domestic group.

The neighborhood shop, the winkel, is more than a

dispensary of alcoholic beverages. The winkel is a neighborhood waystation for lower class men, the one neutral and accessible point in space where men with similar mating and residential arrangements can congregate and interact. These

males are relatively marginal to the occupational hierarchy


ix








of "downtown" as well as to the many dispersed households and domestic groups, either affinal or consanguineal, in which they are members. In many ways, the men who gather at the winkel have no place else to go.

Tn accordance with Chapple and Coon (1942), the winkel may be considered a form of association: a group of people (males) who have established the same type of relationships with others (women as conjugals and consanguines) and with each other (marginal males) and begin to interact regularly on that basis.

The winkel as association absorbs shocks and disturbances in male interaction generated by other institutions and groups within the society. The loss of a job, temporary or permanent departure from a household, the accretion or shedding of a mate, all alter the males' use of time, space, preferred activities and people. Within this association forum, a new equilibrium is established as males increase or decrease the frequency, intensity, and duration of their participation with other males and, eventually, with other female-headed groups.








-Chirman


x













CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Statement of Problem

This is an ethnography of lower class black males

living in Paramaribo, the capital city of Suriname. They are called Creoles, as is anyone living on the coasL who is to any degree identifiably of African ancestry, and who also acts like a Creole.

More specifically, most of the men in this study are called nengre (black people) to distinguish them from the lighter skinned mulatta. (mulattos) . Here the cultural factor again plays a role. Nengre and mulatta act differently from one another. The historical underpinnings of this phenomenon in the Caribbean have been widely discussed. X Upward mobility for vast numbers of nengre became possible only in the 1960's, and as yet there is no word in either Dutch or Sranan Tngo_, the local "creole" language, to express a black man (nengre) who acts like a mulatto or to account for people who participate alternately or simultaneously in both "traditions." Rapid changes in Surinamese society begun in the last decade have increasingly blurred the distinction between nengre and mulatta. I shall refrain from further use

of these categories and refer to the men in this study,



* Notes will be included at the conclusion of each chapter.


1




2



whatever their color shade, status, occupation, or cultural tradition, as Creoles, the term agreeable to all non-tribal black Surinamers.

A concentration on females and children has biased all prior studies of West Indian society and almost all studies of New World Blacks.2 By their occupation of a residential structure tied to a point in space, adult females and children have been relatively easy to locate, describe, and analyze. Relative neglect of the study of males resulted in portraits of black society populated almost solely by women and children, with males depicted as "somewhat shadowy figures who drift in and out of the lives of family members," (Liebow, 1967:5). Except for a very few monographs, some dealing only obliquely with men, we know virtually nothing about the behavior of lower class black males.3 Aside from Liebow (1967), who presents a limited ethnography of "street corner men" and their behavior in a restricted point in space and time, in no case do we have a full scale ethnography of-lower class male behavior. In this ethnographic void, black society emerged as "matri-centered" or "matrifocal." Correspondingly, "matrifocality" itself became an object of study without reference to extra-household developmental cycles, larger on-going connections with kindred and friends, or concern with environing factors affecting the composition of the family or female-headed group in question. Gonzalez (1970: 243) points out that matrifocality may only be an "organizing principle" in the domestic domain, and that distinctions





3


must be made to avoid the loose use of such terms as matrifocal, matricentered, and consanguiniality.

I choose to go in a direction different from that of the preceding authors. This is a study of Creole "street corner men" in their natural habitat: the winkel,4 the back yard, at work, and with kin, friends, lovers, and children. It does not limit their lives only to the bar or street corner but follows their movements through time and space. They are followed along their life cycles, while describing their behavior, the statuses into which they are initiated, the groups to which they belong, and the alliances they form. As Moore (1973) has effectively demonstrated the life cycle is a useful organizing principle for structuring the process and variation of human behavior.

Women are not omitted simply because this is a study of men. In commenting on a statement by Nancie Gonzalez concerning the dispersed nature of nuclear families within and between households, R. T. Smith suggested that

Her observations could be duplicated from every report that has ever been written on
lower class Negro life, and it is quite true that the concentration of attention upon the
household as a functioning unit of child care and economic organization has tended to divert
attention from the networks of relationships
linking households to each other. (R. T. Smith,
1963: 33)

Still, the study of relatively sedentary women and children does not illuminate the links tying households together, for these links are to be found in the movements of men both through time and over space, the networks








of kin and friends they form. The ultimate objective is to analyze the social networks of individuals, predominantly men, either in kindreds seen as action sets or groups of loosely associated peers, and to delineate the contributions they make to the functioning of households in which they are participants. Goods and services are transferred along what can be considered exchange networks. Above all, these networks of inter-household linkage will be viewed processurally in terms of a developmental cycle based on ego's age, sex, status, occupation, mating arrangement, situation, and alternative options. The problem is twofold. We need to deal with the "family-household" as a dynamic subsystem in constant adjustment to its environment at whatever its point on a developmental cycle. Also, we must firmly identify on-going

connections with temporarily absent males, who as members of the occupational hierarchy, link up the "family-household" subsystem with other such subsystems and with larger society. We have to locate a viable and realistic unit of observation..

The black family and household in the Caribbean have been the objects of scientific study for at least the last forty years. Characteristically the researcher set forth to typologize the various forms of household or to identify certain family relationships that, because of their tenacity

or brittleness, gave form and content to the expression of household. Then various explanatory models were proposed.5

Without fail most researchers began their investigations by identifying a sedentary point in space, a hearth, and





5


then carefully defining and delineating the relationships that took place within the enclosed area.

The anthropologist in.search of family sees first the house, surrounded by other houses
in yards on family land, separated by barbed
wire fences, as a thatched roof in the distance,
emerging between trees of breadfruit, ackee or mango on the edge of a yam field; or as a white
painted cottage behind regular lines of
orange trees with their green and yellow fruit.
Within that house, be it hut or cottage, is
contained, for some time of the day or night, part of the group which he is about to study.
Clarke, 1957: 28)

As though by act of faith researchers set forth to study family, kinship, residence, and household by applying a priori definitions of the same to complicated systems of

interaction and behavior. The phenomena are promptly "named" and "nailed." If social structure is an orderly system of interactions played out processurally in a changing environment of time and space, by what empirical right do we limit this drama to a bedroom, house, or yard? Household, the nexus of these relationships, is usually described in material terms. Cultural artifact and structural process are not the same level of abstraction and should not be equated or compared, although the equation persists as "the household is defined as the group of people who live under one roof, who eat and sleep together, and who cooperate daily for the common benefit of all" (Gonzalez, 1969: 45).

Authors are quick to point out that in lower class

"households" boundaries are shifting and porous allowing for the temporary or permanent recruitment of new members or the release of old members. What then do we do with the




6


question of household membership? When is one a member and when is one not? Suddenly the strictures imposed by common hearth and roof are glaring. Some authors ignore the dilemma, others point out the discrepancy and do nothing more about it, while still others attribute the absent member phenomena to some sort of black adaptability or flexibility to the vissitudes of poverty without explaining how the process works. M.- G. Smith (1962: 13) resorts to an arbitrary definition of household membership:

Households are units, the members of which
eat and dwell together as a rule. . . . I have included all persons who resided together for
four days of the previous week within the units
surveyed. I have excluded all who did not.

In one arbitrary move Smith severed what possibly may be enduring, crucial social relationships, and excluded people from membership who are absent in space for more than three days out of the previous week. However, his own a priori definition of the phenomena he wanted to study trapped him. Having stated what a household is (should be?) he ignored the empirical data that fell outside the parameters of his model. Two pages later Smith began a discussion on household membership and roles. He distinguished principal from dependent members of household groups and, in defining his terms, contradicted his previous statement:

We may begin by making a distinction between principal and dependent members of household
groups. Dependents are those members of household groups who do not exercise leadership roles. . . . An absent mate or child whose
contributions serve to maintain the group is
an absent principal. (1962: 15)





7


What happens if the absent principal is absent for more

than three days a week? Is he (or she) denied even the marginal status of "absent principal"? Also, if the absent

principal makes "contributions serving to maintain" the household from afar, why does he have to return to the household,

or why did he ever have to be a resident in the first place?

I suggest that our conceptual formulations and their

expression in the form of "family," "household," and "domestic

group" are inadequate and misleading for the study of the

dynamics of lower class black society, and that, in the

study of social structure and organization, we must begin

our analysis with other units of observation. In a departure

from her previous statement, Gonzalez seems to have revised

her original definition of household by offering an insightful and critical distinction between kinship, household, and

domestic unit. The points she raises are necessary for understanding lower class black society:

I suggest that we reserve the term household for the cooperating group which maintains and participates in a given residential structure,
even though the contribution of any one individual may be only part time. In this case, the
concept that households are closed, bounded
units must be modified. Indeed the fact that
individuals have simultaneous loyalties to
more than one such grouping may be important
in understanding the social structure as a whole.
I further suggest that men, particularly, tend
to be placed in positions in which potential
conflict between households devolves upon them. . .
Family seems most usefully defined in terms of kinship networks; that is, the different types
of families can be described in terms of the
kind of kinship bonds among the different individuals considered to be members of the unit. In this case the family grouping may be considered








a concrete unit but is not necessarily a, co-residential unit. Neither can we say, structurally speaking, that families are
mutually exclusive bonded units. (1970: 232-233)

This definition departs considerably from traditional ones of households and lends dynamism to the study of these groupings. Once the hurdle of thinking in "bounded" terms is vaulted we can look at society in all its complexity of cross-cutting and overlapping networks. For the study of household this suggestion is especially useful. Simply because someone is absent for certain periods of time is

no reason to overlook him (usually "him") when discussing the functioning of the group. Frequency of contact is not more important than intensity and content in the discussion of function.

Family and household are excellent units of observation and analysis for the study of middle class society. Here the overlap between nuclear family and household is pronounced. There is little personal dependence on outsiders or kinsmen for the maintainance of the domestic group. However, no amount of typologizing variations, refining, disclaiming, and statistical shuffling will make lower class (Creoles) live in households where family, household, and domestic group neatly dovetail into one manageable unit. If the researcher chooses to remain oblivious to this reality, he or she will fail to identify and grasp the dynamics of the system under study.

In the investigation of the interplay of these cultural and social instrumentaliitiesj the focus is on "lower class"





9


Creoles. A brief explanation of parameters will be offered here with the ethnography offered in support of my position.6

I visualize class more in structural-behavioral than

material terms. For example, a number of my informants made substantial incomes and managed to surround themselves with material items. However, it was the spending arrangements and the social relationships that arose from and around these disbursal patterns that distinguished these men from other "classes." Amount of income, education, and sleeping arrangements are merely traits and not the abstraction of class itself.

A critical constant facing the people in this study is economic survival. They live in a cash economy but have little control over the economic resources upon which they are dependent. The cash economy with all its contingencies is the environment to which these people must adapt. Within this environment, lower class Creoles are either directly or indirectly denied complete access to and the privilege of fully exploiting its resources. This exclusion forces lower class people into a marginal position within society and it is to this marginality that they adapt by constructing organizational forms and ideological sentiments that permit certain economic gains to be made. Whitten and Szwed point out the necessity for elasticity in social arrangements in such an environment:

Where by one means or another individuals are kept outside the resources of economic change, definable bounded groups are maladaptive, and
survival value for them is thereby limited.





10


Constant subjugation to varying inputs from externally generated cash nexi seensto favor
the development of networks of individuals, 7
making up strings of quasi-groups. (1970: 45)

In their patterned movement over time and space, males articulate dispersed households, and in their inter-face with each other provide support that bundles a number of smaller units into a larger survival group. The male can also be an independent link between two or more households that are not mutually interdependent; this is more often the case for younger men. The family or household is not the viable economic unit in lower class social organization.

The question of whether a man is a resident of one or the other household is not particularly important here. The question is what function does this male have in maintaining this unit, and what other relationships does the unit build out around itself in addition to this male. This leads us to a study of male networks, as well as "extrahousehold" networks, and the role each male ego plays as he is placed in each of the structural situations that surround him.

Through the sharing of common males "families and

households" overlap in a context of shifting time and space and as such resemble what Mayer (1966) calls action sets. In his discussion of quasi-groups and action sets Mayer points out that an individual is surrounded by an unbounded field

of personal contacts and connections which form a network of relationships with him or her at the middle. Not all these




11


contacts are intimately involved with ego all the time nor with the same degree of intensity. If a contact is not needed for the completion of a certain.activity or to expedite a service, it may lie dormant until ego initiates a request for assistance which the person contacted can refuse or acknowledge.

When ego activates or reactivates contacts with these

potential "others" in his quasi-group he creates about himself a group of mobilized personnel who, not necessarily in contact with each other, are instrumental to some of ego's activities. The duration of an action may be short term or long term (and contact may vary in degrees of intensity and frequency) before it dissolves into ego's quasi-group pool. The process of completely shedding a person from the quasi-group, thus removing him or her as a potential resource, occurs as well.

A comparative analysis of various action sets reveals certain common structural convergences revolving around kinship, residence, mutual support, occupational status, and so forth. These shared characteristics will be more fully

explored in Chapter IV.

A male ego is surrounded by a quasi-group of personal kindred, kith, and exploitable others. In this social context kinship, either cognatic descent, or the personal kindred, functions as one of the variables that determines "rights to group membership." (Fox, 1967: 52). The relationship of exploiter-exploited works both ways at all




12


times. There are positive gains in every relationship no matter how unbalanced it may appear.

Within this network ego has a family of father, mother, siblings, patri-and matri-collaterals and lineals, and affines, all of whom may individually be spread throughout different residential units. Ego also has concubines and lovers who may or may not have borne him children. He has distant relatives and friends as well. I suggest that these "households" with which ego is often confusedly aligned are more accurately action sets that he developmentally and situationally establishes. The "brittleness of West Indian conjugal relationships," the incidence of'tenuded households" and "matrifocal and consanguineal families" might not be so strange and unpredictable if considered in the context of "the tactical opening, closing, breaking, and reactivation of dyadic contacts, usually within the context of real, ritual, or fictive kin." (Whitten, 1969a:231-232)

These relationships are all pieces of a strategy. The women play as well as the men. Any one individual has a network of personal links built up around him or her to insure the fulfillment of certain vital services. The boundaries of the network shift, adding here and deleting there, as the person faces new situations to which he or she must adapt. Economic contingency, progression along the life cycle, movement in space, initiation to a new status, or the possibility of short term gain all affect the composition of the group(s) within which ego interacts.




13


In this case, family and households are merely sub-systems interacting with other similar sub-systems in an environment and continually adapting to the contingencies posed to it. Certain activities have to be performed, but the persons who interact to perform these activities can change through time. There is nothing to prohibit a member of one action set from

being a member of others. Such is the case with men in their multiple roles of wage earner, father, grandfather, uncle, son, lover, husband.

This is not a study of an isolated group of men on the streetcorner. Nor is this a traditional "West Indian household study." It is a study of men, and the groups they form with women, who play out the drama of their lives in a complex multi-dimensional context.

In identifying and defining the structure, function and processural adjustment of Creole social organization in its attempts to maintain an on-going equilibrium, I hope to avoid placing a priori models glibly on inadequate data but, accepting instead the suggestions of Arensberg and

Kimball in their discussion of the natural history method, to inductively construct a model more reflective of the processes at hand.

Each community contains its basic minimum of
personnel, individuals who in their activities and relationships engage with others in events
in which it is possible to discern the order
of action, and hence the structure of the system
of habitual relationships. Further, it is
possible to ascertain the functions that activities and relationships possess, both in their contributory sense to the welfare of the group








and in the extent to which modification of one aspect affects another. Finally, space
and time are socially structured through the
distribution and activity of personnel in
their events. These variables, in their
specific qualities and in their relationships
to each other, constitute the external conditions
that give each community its particular characteristics. But we must recognize that each such
system is susceptible to external conditions
that flow from other communities, and from
larger society of which it is a part, possibly
from other societies, and even from the physical
environment. (1965: 328)


Methodology

The main techniques used in gathering data were those

of participant-observation and in-depth interviews of friends, acquaintances and informants. The fieldwork lasted 22 months. Data were also retrieved from newspapers, independent publications, radio and television announcements, government and private offices, and archives. Approximately seventy-five percent of the research time was spent in Paramaribo, while twenty-five percent was devoted to the rural Creole districts of Para and Coronie.

The study involved the learning of two languages. The city dialect of Sranan Tongo (variously called taki-taki or Neger Engles, a creole language with identifiably English grammar and English, Dutch, African, Portuguese, and French lexicon) was the main research tool. Except when speaking with the educated and upper classes (though there were exceptions) all verbal information retrival was in Sranan Tongo. We spoke the language not only because people preferred it, but also because it presented a cognitive per- t




15


ception of the Creole universe, complete with sanctions, shades of meaning, and feelings that one would be unable to comprehend through the use of Dutch.

The Dutch language was a passive research tool, and we

used it for reading arid listening. All written material in Suriname, aside from some poetry, is in Dutch. Radio broadcasts vary; Jhinkoe-Rai-Akkal (1972:11) noted that in the course of one day she heard the following languages spoken on radio channels in Paramaribo: Dutch, Hindi, Urdi, Sranan. Tongo, Javanese, Chinese, two Bush Negro dialects (of the Creole language), English, and French. Stations operated by Hindustanis broadcast mostly in Hindi and Dutch, while Creole

stations replace Hindi with Sranan Tongo.

Television is almost exclusively in Dutch (except for

American movies), while the language used in public meetings, addresses, and forums varies with the situation and the audience. For a study of Creole Paramaribo a functional knowledge of Sranan Tongo and a passive knowledge of Dutch is minimal preparation. If the middle and upper classes are the object of study, a functional knowledge of Dutch and passive appreciation of Sranan Tongo would be required.

I will not here go into the complex inter-relationship between Dutch and Sranan Tongo for the Creole. The ethnography in the following chapters should point out certain regularities and patterns of language use. Suffice it to say that almost all the people with whom we spent our time and with whom we interacted daily preferred Sranan Tongo




16


to Dutch.

We arrived in Paramaribo without an exact research site in mind. We asked questions, listened, walked the streets, and searched for a suitable Creole "neighborhood." Although there is little ethnic and class residential segregation in Paramaribo, you know a Creole neighborhood when you are in one.

Two choices emerged: Frimangron (Free man's ground) and Land van Tijk. The former was chosen for two reasons. It had a historical tradition extending to well before Emancipation and it was a more heterogenous neighborhood in terms of resident ethnic groups and occupational and status distinctions. Since I wanted to investigate various inter-ethnic points of articulation, and because I feel one cannot adequately study "lower class" behavior discarding upward mobility, comparison with more well to do folks and inter-connections between status groups, a more heterogeneous conglomerate was selected.

We moved into the neighborhood to a house that would

neither scandalize upper status visitors with its shabbiness nor deter lower class people from dropping in by its opulence. We settled in and our lives became tied to the rhythm of our birti soema (neighbors).

Plural Society

Surinamese society is quite complex, all its students describing it as "culturally plural."9 By the end of 1971, Suriname had a total population of 384,903. Of this total




17


were counted 1-8,500 Creoles, 142,300 Hindustanis, 58,900 Indonesians, 6,400 Chinese, 10,200 AmerIndians, 4,000 Europeans, 39,500 Bush Negroes (all tribes), and 5,100

"others." Of this total population, 175,600 people, or 45.6 percent, lived in or around the capital city of Paramaribo, while 102,300 resided within the borders of the city. The distribution of the ethnic groups throughout the country varies. A breakdown of the ethnic groups resident in Paramaribo in 1965 revealed that the city contained 67,544 Creoles, 25,437 Hindustanis, 7,963 Indonesians, 3,869 Chinese, 2,197 Europeans, 668 Bush Negroes, and 1,741 "unknowns." (Hoogharts, 1973: 10) Paramaribo is a Creole city surrounded by an Asian hinterland.

Migration to the Netherlands figures heavily in the demography of Suriname. Aside from sheer numbers it is reflective of a good deal more. At this moment there are approximately 60,000 Surinamers resident in Holland (Bovenkerk, 1973: 1). A yearly increase in the number of migrants is characteristic of the post-1962 period. The number of Creole migrants rose from 761 in 1964 to 4,524 per year in 1970. The Hindustanis registered an increase of 158 to 1,694 in the same period, while the Indonesians increase went from 36 to 212. In evaluating these figures, Lamur points out that "It is not surprising that the Creoles were in the

majority; they are the most Westernized and the most urbanized of the three groups, and they suffer the highest rate of unemployment." (1973: 131-132)








Suriname's population is growing quickly. For the post1962 period a growth rate of 29.6 per 1000 was a function of a fertility figure of 41.7 per.1000, a mortality fiture of

7.7, with 5.0 for immigration, and 10.5 for emigration. (Lamur, 1973: 140). The mean yearly growth of the population by ethnic group per 1000 inhabitants breaks down as follows for the three major groups in the 1962-1970 period: Creole, 17.0; Hindustani, 37.6; and Indonesians, 27.6 (Lamur, 1973: 145). The decline in figures for the Creoles is a function not only of a lower rate of natural increase, but of emigration as well.10

The processual adjustment of each ethnic group to the other, the points of interface and articulation leading to competition, accommodation, or hostility, and the formulation of a whole society as a plural system reflect the traits and characteristics set forth by M. G. Smith (1965: 88-89) and Despres (1967: 21-29).

Occupational competition and specialization often

illuminate social process and may indicate points of contact or exclusion between ethnic groups. Lamur offers a table indicating the working population by occupational category, ethnic group, and sex per 1000 inhabitants as of 1964.

Traditionally, trained positions involving higher education and specialized training have been the realm of the Creole. With the increasing integration of the Hindustanis into national society, especially through education, this is rapidly changing. Nonetheless, the government





19


TABLE I

WORKING POPULATION BY OCCUPATIONAL CATEGORY
ETHNIC GROUP AND SEX


Occupation


Creole M F


Hindustani


M


F


Indonesian


M


F


Scientific, Managerial,
Administrative

Business and Insurance

Agriculture, Cattle, and Fishing

Mining, Industry, and
Transportat ion

Service


24.2 43.7 3.1 6.4 7.3 3.7 56.1 18.3

1.7 1.1


10.0 5.8


8.4 14.3 38.5 60.3 38.5 5.2 1.5 1.7


5.8 5.9

2.8 12.8 39.5 50.4 47.3 11.3 1.1 1.2


Lamur, 1973: 162




20


bureaucracy, the largest employer in Suriname, employs more Creoles than any other group and proportionally more Creoles work for the government civil service than in any

other occupation.

It is within this complex that this ethnography of

lower class Creoles is set. I shall avoid any direct reference to the other ethnic groups in Suriname, except in cases where their presence, behavior, or ideology directly affects the point under immediate consideration. This constraint is inauthentic, but I see no other way to adequately deal with

the subject I have chosen.


- t






21


NOTES: CHAPTER I

1. See for example Lowenthal and Comitas (eds.) Consequences of Class and Color, 1973; Eric Williams, 1970; M. G. 6mith, T765; van~TTer, 7971; and Cohen and Greene, 1973.

2. See Clarke (1957), Solien Gonzalez (1969), Herskovits and Herskovits (1936), R. T. Smith (1956), Otterbein (1965), M. G. Smith (1962), Greenfield (1966), for examples of studies which make reference to males but offer little in the way of documentation.

3. Studies dealing entirely or in part with black males include Liebow (1967), Keiser (1969), Hannertz (1969), Whitten (1965), Wilson (1973), Abrahams (1970), and Manning (1973).
4. I chose to use the Dutch word winkel (the Sranan Tongo word wenkri would be equally suitable)Tas it is more appropriate than pub, shop, bar, or tavern. The distinction can be made because of material reasons (size, location, interior arrangement, items sold, etc.) as well as social (activities that take place there).

5. For a quick review of some of the relevant literature see the Introduction by M. G. Smith in Clarke (1957), Chapter 4 in Hannertz (1969), and the Introduction in Whitten and Szwed (1970). Actually, most monographs on the Caribbean contain lengthy reviews on the various approaches to the study of the "West Indian Family."

6. Two other students have made studies of lower class Creole family and kinship in Paramaribo. Buschkens (1973) defines lower class Creoles (volkcreolen) as follows:
They provide for their livelihood through manual labor.
They have no schooling past the elementary grade.
They usually speak Sranan Tongo (rather than Dutch)
at home.
They live in houses wherein not everyone has their
own home.
The income of the volkcreole does not exceed Sf 300
per month. (About $170. The currency unit in Suriname is the Suriname Florin, abbreviated Sf. It is also referred to as the Suriname Guilder or, simply,
Guilder. One Suriname Florin (Sf 1.00) is worth approximately 57 U.S. dollar cents ($.57). All
textual references to money will be stated in
Suriname Florins.)
The volkcreole is baptized by either a minister of the
Moravian church or a priest of the Catholic Church. Pierce (1970) identified his sample as "Afro-Americans" (including only nengre and not mulatta) and cited their characteristics thus:





22


High incidence of female-headed households.
High incidence of non-legal consensual unions.
High incidence of conjugal instability.
Central positions of females in co-residential and
domestic groups.
Frequent inclusion in household of consanguineals
other than children.
Sprinkled throughout his text are other clues to the identity of the people Pierce is talking about. They are for the most, part descendants of slaves, are predominantly Negroid, occupy low status and income positions, and have high unemployment accompanied by low education.

Neither of these two definitions is terribly dynamic.


7. See for example Young and Willmott (1957), and the cross cultural comparisons attempted by Solien Gonzalez (1969) and R. T. Smith (1956).

8. Certain authors have had a powerful effect on my thinking. Arensberg and Kimball (1965) introduced me to the comprehensive superiority of the natural history method. Liebow (1967) demonstrated what it is to be an ethnographer in a small scale setting. R. T. Smith (1956 and 1963) brought into relief the concept of structural time. Valentine (1968) cut through a good deal of the confusion surrounding the culture of poverty. Mitchell (1969) firmed up a lot of spongey cliches and fluffly thinking about networks. Whitten in his monograph (1965) and later in a piece co-authored with Szwed (1970) illuminated the processes of short term gain, adaptations and shifting boundaries.

9. See for example van Lier (1971), Den Hollander et al. (1966), and Lamur (1973) for important references.

10. The mean yearly growth in percentile form, with all factors including emigration taken into account, would be
2.96%o.

11. See Sedoc-Dahlberg (1971) and van Lier (1971) on the colonial elite.












CHAPTER II

THE NEIGHBORHOOD IN SPACE AND TIME Setting


Paramaribo. . . has half a dozen modern
buildings of which any European city might be proud. But these buildings suggesting the metropolis are incongruous in the heat
and dust and afternoon stillness. . . .
for Paramaribo is provincial. (Naipaul, 1962:
183)

Fort Zeelandia lies ten kilometers inland on the Suriname river. In days gone by it protected Paramaribo on the Wilde Kust (wild coast) against the incursions of the French, English, and Spanish. Until a very few years ago the post served as a civil prison, when it was renovated and converted into a national museum, each of its solid bunkers of stone block and great timbers at once housing the cultural memorabilia of each ethnic group in Suriname and separating them from each other. Artifacts retrieved from AmerIndian groups deep in the bush are located on the second floor. Drums, beads, and ritual paraphernalia and photographs attesting to past days of proud autonomy are located in the "Bush Negro" chamber at the end of the corridor. The Hindustanis, brought in as contrac. laborers in the 19th and 20th centuries, are represented here too. The Javanese, also imported as laborers to bolster the flagging plantation economy of post-emancipation days, find representation in this place of national symbol and sentiment through the faded photographs--photo-


23




24


graphs not so much of them as of the grounds on which they worked. This should come as no surprise, for as Eric Williams has said (1970), the story of the Caribbean can be told in terms of the degradation of its laborers. Looking carefully one also can find relics of the Chinese, Lebanese, Syrians, and others.

The most extensive exhibits lodged in the most spacious rooms are those of the Creole and the colonial European. Perhaps the two should be located in one vast chamber, for through time they have become intimately intertwined. Two groups, the African and the European, thrown together by the economic and political forces of days no one can remember, but Surinamese custom dictates they be separated.

Outside the old fortress Dutch military police raise the tricolor of the Netherlands, a symbol of Holland's presence in the New World.2

Beyond the perimeter of the officers' quarters that ring the fortress, two boulevards stretch out at right angles. Within this 90-degree arc lies Paramaribo, baka foto (behind the fort) as it is called by the native

inhabitants.

One of these boulevards, the Gravenstraat (-straat is street), stretches out from the fort as far as the eye can see, to the city boundary and the Hindustani paddies beyond.

Built on a mound of shells it is the oldest street in the city. The first graveyards of Paramaribo were located along this thoroughfare. The street originates outside the fortress








































-










- R T N V A N I R A

KAART VAN SURINAME


FIGURE ONE

MAP OF SURINAME


Source: Dahlberg, H. N. n.d.


25




26


gates, forming the northern border of the parade grounds. Squarely in the middle of the green vastness stands a statue of Queen Wilhelmina. Opposite and across the street sits the proud, sumptuous white stone mansion of the governor of Suriname. Hedges and flowers surround the driveway which runs to the foyer and past the open veranda, ending near the old palm gardens. Sentries posted at the entrance and exit usher guests and dignitaries to and from the Queen's representative in Suriname.

Almost all the formal, administrative machinery of

Suriname is visible from the mansion's veranda. Ministries line the parade grounds, each with the bust of an honored civil servant before it. The parliament building, built on the foundations of the old Dutch West India Company, lies further up the Gravenstraat. Lesser sub-offices housing clerks, secretaries, janitors, chauffeurs and concerned citizens spill over into the tree-lined side streets. Further on is the Roman Catholic cathedral, the largest wooden church in the New World. Across the street is the rectory, another wooden structure. A Dutch priest in white Rock and occasionally sporting a pith helmet stands on the balcony surveying the bustling city beneath him. This is possible from a third-story balcony; Paramaribo is a twoand three-story city.

The Suriname Bank is next to the church. It is a

modern building midst the white wooden structures with their red brick foundations, green shutters, and red corrogated




27


tin roofs. The Central Archives, housing material only from the 1840's (papers from earlier days are in Holland) is here too. Until the second World War secondary education could be sought only on this street. Miscellaneous buildings such as the water, gas, and electric utilities offices, the telephone and telegraph offices, and the post office are located here abouts as well. Life can be orchestrated from the environs

of."old Paramaribo." Paramaribo, with its ministry-lined boulevards radiating from the central plain, could be considered a "Baroque" city. (Mumford, 1938)

Shops, gas stations, offices, and private homes appear

beyond the bank, some five hundred meters from the governor's mansion. Gravenstraat is a fine, clean, attractive street; from the sidewalk no hovels meet the eye. As with all buildings on the streetfront in the inner city, they are of wood, two-storied, with balconies overhanging the street.

The people on the balconies sitting in bent wood rocking chairs behind awnings and potted plants are usually light skinned, either Dutch or mulattos. The black faces are on the sidewalk below. Their labors are lightened by the shade of tall cottonwood trees (kankantrie) that, since there was a Paramaribo, rise up from the pavement.

The other boulevard, the Waterkant (Water Side), parallels the Suriname River and in an unfaltering straight line forms the other perpendicular of the arc. This street too originates from the fort and forms the riverside boundary of the parade grounds. The Park Club where the elite meet for





28


dinner, drinks, and cards to discuss the future of themselves and perhaps that of the country, lies securely in the shadow of the old fort. One battery of aged cannons has its sights trained squarely on the dance floor. A view from the river would show a long facade of charming two- and three-story colonial homes lining the Waterkant from the fortress up the street to the old weighing house. Each building is distinctive; some with columns, some balconies, masonry stoops, great shuttered windows, and all with their red, green, and white ensembles. Paramaribo is a wooden city. These are the herenhuizen (gentlemen's houses), the prized high status dwellings from the days of sugar, indigo, coffee, tobacco, and cotton. Although some are still private dwellings of the very rich, many have been converted to offices for companies or the government

The homes lie close together, separated only by small alleys. Aglance down one of these alleys reveals another world, a teeming arena where another style of life is played out. This is the backyard or baka djari. Although a geographical entity bounded by the fences of the high born, it is an integral social building-block for the urban Creole. The back yard houses, the slave barracks, and quarters of yesterday, one-and two-room cottages of grey weathered board, house the uneducated and unemployed. Outdoor brick ovens and wells how decaying in disuse, sprinkle the yards that are swept

clean of every blade of grass. The dry, brown turf stands in sharp contrast to the greenery of the herenhuis. The




29


number of trees in the back yard J, surprising, for from the streets the city seems almost devoid of foliage. Looking skyward, the back yard sends palms and fruit trees upward. The tree is precious to these people, as life is played out in its shade and, recapitulated through the generations, its fruits provide nourishment and supplementary income, and under the boughs of certain species roam the indulgent, mischievous or malevolent spirits of ancestors or other creatures of the supernatural. A vital piece of one's "soul" always remains in the yard where he or she was born.

All the sexes and generations of the Creoles are found under these trees. Babies are cradled in the arms of their grandmothers while mothers wash clothes in large iron tubs. Young boys frolic in the dust kicking cans and tormenting lizards while girls furiously clean house attacking the endless chore of sweeping dust from inside the house to the yard. Teenagers, dressed in their European finery, connive for a guilder or two, and with their portable radios rush foto se (city side) to engage in the excitement of the day.

Adult men return from work or their favorite bar to take the main afternoon meal. They will probably go to sleep afterwards, as Paramaribo shuts its doors to the public from two until four o'clock in the afternoon. All women wear something on their heads. Young girls wrap a tight fitting bandana or casually tied scarf around their plaited hair. Young women, now enamored of the fashions of America, wear loosely woven woolen caps, while older women wear the tradi-




30


tional anisa, a stiffly -starched, intricately tied head dress with each color and fold a statement on the wearer's dispos-ition of the moment. (Herskovits and Herskovits, 1936: part I)

The settlement pattern, of herenhuis on the street front and old slave quarters in the back yard has been replicated throughout Creole sectors of the city. Reshaped and in new forms, it is still identifiable in its structure and use of space and time. It will be dealt with at length later, along with the people who play out their lives in its parameters.

Further up the street past the old weighing house lies

the harbor. It is not much by Caribbean standards. One lone dock juts into the river, to unload goods from European vessels. A new harbor was built in the 1960's and lies easily within eyeshot, perhaps one and a half miles up river. This new harbor does not concern us, however, as the inhabitants do not consider it part of the city.

The ferry separates the fine old houses and the harbor from the small scale business district. Suriname has in the past few years built up its road network, but ferries provide the links spanning the numerous rivers. Two large ferries capable of carrying cars, trucks, motorbikes, and hordes of people and their goods ply the wide Suriname river from dawn until midnight. The traffic is endless, reaching its peak on weekends when Javanese laborers from the sugar plantations and Hindustani rice farmers on the other side of the river come to town to buy. Paramaribo is totally dependent on the




31.


outside world, and Surinamers (except certain AmerIndian groups) are all in some degree dependent on Paramaribo. The city's function is to provide mercantile, legal, medical, administrative, educational, communicative, and other services. Paramaribo is a dispensary. Paramaribo is the only city in Suriname.

Beyond the ferry lies the central market. Here the tempo of life takes on a new pitch. The white shirts and ties of the bureaucrats are infrequently seen now as swarms of women in gaily colored print dresses splotched with great flower blossoms, broad stripes, and bright plaids busy themselves provisioning their tables with salt meat, fish, vegetables, and rice. The roar of activity is at first deafening as bargaining, higgling, and gossiping women cluster together, their bobbing anisas marking the cadence of the conversation. The measured tones of Dutch are not heard here. Legs spread and strong hands akimbo on broad hips, they discuss matters of the day. These include more than the latest sexual misadventures of a common friend. Although they savour such a story and recount it with relish, they can shift swiftly to a discussion of national politics and cite from memory the personalities that play out these roles. Paramaribo is small, and after one or two geneological citations one can easily identify at least the family of the victim under discussion. A political official, for all his pomp and dignity, finds his humanity in the market place; here he is an equal and no longer sacred. (During the















































FIGURE TWO MAP OF PARAMARIBO



-Research area Frimangron Source: VACO, n.d.





33


t/77























14 . 4. 7-7>






C, I
(A ,





34


celebration of the Queen Mother's birthday, the governor himself comes to the market and dances after the market women have paraded past his house bearing flowers.)

Reminiscences from days gone by are recalled when

present members of parliament were mere children splashing naked in the gutters along the streets. Today, their scandals and corruption are discussed in the same vein. Many an aspiring politician has foundered by not currying the favor of the Creole moesja (respected older woman). Lampoon and ridicule deftly wielded today as yesterday has set many a Holland-educated hopeful to running.

Familiarity may breed contempt but it also fosters a consistent attitude to overlook fault and foible if the guilty party behaves with respect and good manners. A sort of "provicial morality" (Gans, 1962) is at work here. Corruption well may be written off as boldness, precociousness, or self-interest; traits shared or at least appreciated

by many.

The market, today with a more Hindustani complexion

than Creole, is a large concrete and iron quonset hut on the site of the old, open riverside market. The bottom floor is laden with tropical fruits and vegetables of all types. Creoles sell most of the ground crops (cassava, peanuts, etc.), Hindustanis and Javanese the fruits and leafy greens. Upstairs, imported foods (potatoes and onions), spices, canned goods, and dry goods are sold. Specialists selling ritual paraphernalia and obias sit at stalls beside basket





)5


makers and women dispensing fruit drinks.

Surinamers are careful here; careful because of their

-fear of strangers and also of the young boys who steal purses and carefully concealed caches of money which women hide in knotted handkerchieves under their brassieres. Behind the

main market are more vegetable stands and the fish and poultry market. Creole women still seem to monopolize the fish trade as they hawk crab and other manner of fish. Many of these women fish themselves or are supplied by family members. Here is a repository of tradition and lore found no where else in Paramaribo. To confirm a story, a piece of hearsay, or learn the preparation of a supernatural potion, one comes to baka wowoyjo (behind the market) and seeks out

a trusted elder.

One is always cautious and casts a careful eye on all

passersby. The stranger is mistrusted; a glance that lingers can mean only trouble. They seek your money through swindle, false friendship, or theft; or worse, they seek to learn your fancies and weaknesses and through this knowledge manufacture a curse to control or exploit you and yours.

The market provisions Paramaribo and its suburbs and so sets a tempo for the flow of human traffic in and out of the city. Buses line the streets, each to cart off a load of people and their goods to a different neighborhood. These "wild" buses, usually a VW bus with a fifteen person capacity

that is always exceeded, are owned by Hindustanis, a fact causing no end of anger and indignation for the Creoles




36


totally dependent on them.

The Waterkant intersects two other avenues and continues on its way, now renamed the Saramaccastraat after the tribe of Saramaka Bush Negro who used to reside in its lodges and flophouses on their periodic trips to town in the old days. The buildings take on a dingy cast, although they are still the wooden two-story structures of downtown. Anything can be bought on Saramaccastraat. The Chinese and Lebanese merchants see to that. Store fronts overflow into the street with bins of corks, cloth, rope, lanterns, machetes, shovels, candies, hammocks, and electric appliances.

The small shops (winkels) that line the Saramaccastraat and appear everywhere else in downtown Paramaribo service not only the material but the physical as well. Men cluster here and drink beer, rum, and whiskey at makeshift wooden bars in the corner amidst dusty buckets, lines of hemp, and bicycle tires hung from the ceiling. Women returning from the market, the shoe stores, and clothiers stop in for a beer or soft drink and bread. Women are not excluded from these winkel bars, but they play a very restricted role in order to avoid trouble.

In the winkel languages are a babel. Clusters of Bush Negros speak their tribal dialects, while an occasional AmerIndian calls out to his wife walking a few paces behind. Chinese voices count the day's profits on their abacuses, midst the Hindustani and Javanese that punctuate the din. Creoles talk amongst themselves in Sranan Tongo. Conversa-













































FIGURE THREE

PARAMARIBO--A FEW TYPICAL STREET PROFILES Source: Volders, J. L., 1966





38


~r~2

A







~
4 1

)


.5. -~z.
k)~,rkA4~ (43.Ao~L .~Z~b%%N


er


Maoi tnlu





39


tions across ethnic boundaries, which are few, take place in this language as well. Meanwhile Dutch pours from the radio and peers up from the crumpled newspapers on the floor.

The Saramaccastraat continues on in such a fashion for another 500 meters. Restaurants, more for take-out food

than sit-down meals, are situated among the drinking bars. Many of the winkels would be in poor financial straits were it not for the sale of liquor to men.

Behind the facade of the winkels and buildings on the riverside of the street lies the waterfront proper. Shipyards, drydocks, repair shops, construction companies, carpentry shops, heavy machine storage, timber depots and the like line the river bank. Open gutters spilling refuse into the river mingle trash with the oil and machine residue. The muddy ground gives way underfoot. The stench and byproducts of everything mechanical fortunately do not spill over onto the Saramaccastraat which remains surprisingly clean and well kept for such a heavily trafficked artery.

Until the 1950's a railroad from the gold and rubber (balatta) fields deep in the interior ran into Paramaribo along this main street. Today the line exists only in diminished form, its jungle end shortened by an artificial lake formed by a dam in the 1960's and its city-side trunk

cut short thirty kilometers outside the city in the village of Onverwacht. People remember the days when the old steam engine would chug into town along the hardpacked dirt streets. Up past the central market it would go, by crowds of women





40


and children waving on the street corners, to deposit the men all laden with new wealth on the Heiligeweg near the ferry. Today, this once happy terminus is the terminal for the government bus lines. Nor are there open gutters anymore that line the streets traversed via an outstretched plank. The downtown streets are paved too. All this since the late 1950's.

The terminus of Saramaccastraat is a stone bridge that spans the Drambrandersgracht (-gracht is a drainage ditch). Beyond this point lives the bulk of the Creole population in urban neighborhoods. Over the bridge the pace of life is slower, taking on an almost rural cast within the formal

city borders of Paramaribo.

Downtown Paramaribo, the inner city, stops at Drambrandersgracht. The people who live behind the Drambrandersgracht call it foto se (city side), although most Creoles could never arrive at a mutual accord as to exactly where foto se begins or ends. Until emancipation most Creole slaves lived either on the plantations along the rivers or in this downtown area of the city. A very important portion of the pre-emancipation Creole population did not live here. They were the free men and are discussed later.

Today this downtown area houses almost all the service and distributive agencies in Suriname. Large companies such as Bruynzeel (wood), the Suriname-American Aluminum Company, the Wageningen rice cooperative, and the "Industrial Park," are located outside of Paramaribo; but these are all recent




41


innovations, overlays that came in the immediate past. Virtually everything else is located with the broad arc bounded by the two boulevards: government offices, secondary schools (for most of the country), the university (for medicine and law), banks, foreign consulates, restaurants, shops, tailors, department stores, butchers, book stores, pharmacies, labor union halls, churches, political party headquarters, courts, police stations, lawyers' offices, newspaper publishers. All the formal organs necessary to organize and maintain a nation state are here.

Creoles like Paramaribo. Although most comfortable in the security and friendship of their own neighborhood (birti), they enjoy downtown. Certain places invoke living memories of days gone by, when a car accident occurred on this corner, a ship sunk there, a women became possessed by a certain spirit under that tree, a bridge was guarded by night by certain supernatural creatures. A mythology has grown up around most parts and buildings of the city, that ties sentiment to points in space. Before the Second World War, citizens would often commemorate an event with a specially created proverb or poem and special anisa. (Herskovits and Herskovits, 1936: part I).

Street names have been informally changed from the cumbersome Dutch to the more manageable and meaningful Sranan Tongo. The unwieldy Doktor Sophie Redmondstraat became ondro bom (under the tree, for the large trees that once lined the avenue); likewise Pad van Wanica (the Wanica













































FIGURE FOUR

A FEW CATEGORIES OF LAND USE


Dense Clusters of Businesses

' Single enterprise (winkel)

Research area (Frimangron) Source: Studiegroup "Paramaribo." 1969.





















Iks






---- e10





144


road) is also Para passie (the footpass to the District Para). The personalization of Paramaribo stretched even into the baka djari. A known occurrence or famous personage, a singer or story teller, a magician or sorcerer, or perhaps just somebody with a unique characteristic drew forth a reference that everybody could identify. Popki-djari (yard of the dolls), Para-djari (Para yard), froitiman-djari (whistling man yard), lanti-djari (government yard), and others elicited considerably more enthusiasm than the austere formality of the Dutch appellations. Street corners and special areas carried not the name Ladesmastraat, but rather tingi-oekoe (stinky corner) and winti-oekoe (wind or spirit corner). The corner of Gemenelandsweg and Zwartenhovenbrugstraat became spoendoro, referring back to the days when the old steam engine bringing back the miners would make its first stop at this spot.

If certain places are loved then certain places are

feared. The amandra (almond) trees lining the Waterkant must be avoided at 12 noon and 11 o'clock at night for it is then that the bakroes (short manlike, malevolent creatures, half wood and half flesh) lurk beneath them.4 And the church on the Wanicastraat should be avoided at night, for years ago an unsolved murder took place there, and most people will tell you the suspect was not human.

Drainage ditches and gutters cross-cut Paramaribo.

Once they drained the plantation flat lands surrounding the city. Now most of the broad gutters are filled and covered, some converted into attractive, tree-lined malls. Others





4:5


still carry filth in open ditches through the city to the river. These gutters and ditches serve as boundaries with some residential areas today carryin- the name of the gutter that runs close by it. Before World War II and their subsequent filling in, these networks of water control were spanned by arched stone bridges, and the passage to the other side of the arch was a clear statement that another area of the city was being entered.

A look at Figure Five will show one such gutter.

Called the Drambrandersgracht, it is filled in except for a short piece beginning about 150 meters from the river bank. An old sluice gate with great pulleys and sliding iron door stands sentinel on the sludge that frequently accumulates.

Drambrandersgracht is a very real border; officialdom

considers it one of the boundaries of wij F (a neighborhood division used at the Bureau of Deeds) and so notes it in all the great books of the state. Political parties know the people beyond Drambrandersgracht share a common tradition and sentiment and have located two or three party cells there for recruitment and propaganda purposes (R. BranaShute: in process).5 The folk, however, know best of all what it means to live behind Drambrandersgracht. It means to live in an almost rural neighborhood within the urban conglomerate, a neighborhood where sentiments and social relationships forged under slavery--and before--still live in many forms. Above all, it means to live in the place
































15 beIE&&.,nAAt ac

















- bC3btia~a .AS.kg e J~I
e

kf3 e s6ift 44a'd 1 '644






u besax-d Ahli'it




















FIGURE FIVE


TRADITIONAL CITY DRAINAGE GUTTERS





47


most Creoles know as Frimangron (Freeman's Ground).

History of Frimangron

Although Frimangron's physical growth and change over time can be charted, precious little is recorded of the people who have lived there. What follows, then, is a bare sketch of what seems to be known of Suriname's freecolored and free-black population since the late lth century and of the trends in Creole history from which, at this point, the neighborhood history must be surmised.

In the early 1770's external and internal problems

assumed critical proportions in the colony of Suriname. A financial crisis in Amsterdam caused investment to be withdrawn from the plantation economy. Production fell off as many planters moved to Holland (van Lier, 1971: 41-42; Quintus Bosz, n.d.: 14-15; and Hoetink, 1973). Slave revolt, the nightmare of every European colonist in the Caribbean, was an unusually pronounced phenomenon in Suriname. By the 1770's the number of Bush Negros (maroons, or runaway slaves) had swollen to six or seven thousand and their increasing incursions into the plantation areas along the doast had become especially dangerous and destructive (van Lier, 1971: 58). Attempts to quell the attackers, with European mercenaries imported to supplement the local burger militia, proved inadequate.6

In 1770, one hundred and fifty free-born blacks and

mulattos were called upon to take up arms and fight against the Bush Negros. This group was called the Korps Vrij Negers








(Corps of Free Negros) and fought along side the militia and the mercenaries. This measure, however, also proved insufficient. By 1772 the government began to purchase

reliable, strong slaves from plantation owners. These men, together with trusted government slaves, formed the Zwarte Jagers (Black Rangers), better known as the Redi Moesoe (Red Hats) from the red caps they wore. Initially 300 strong, they were promised manumission and a plot of ground near the city if they would faithfully assist in fighting the Bush Negros.7 It was in the area beyond Drambrandersgracht that the retired, and free, redi moesoe received their payment in land.

Old maps drawn before the 1770's show the area beyond

Drambrandersgracht to have been communal grazing land without

subdivision or individual parcels. Authors of that period tell of city-dwelling planters sending young boys out beyond

Drambrandersgracht to tend cows. This commons land extended to the Limesgracht, the border between the city and the grounds owned by Mr. Limes, a planter of the time.9 The

Zwartenhovenbrugstraat, fronting the river, formed a third side, while the square enclosure was completed by government land and private estates along the Wanicastraat. At this time there was no organized settlement within the area.

A map, drawn by Lieftinck in the year of the formation of the Redi Moesoe, indicates the first organization and land division of the area between Drambrandersgracht and Limesgracht (see Figure Six, Algemeen Rijksarchief). With














































FIGURE SIX

FIRST SUBDIVISIONS OF FRIMANGRON, 1772 Source: Algemeen Rijksarchief



























T-,







-9 y
- - -..1@....--....==. - .




51


three exceptions the streets bore the names they have today. De Grote Dwars Straat has become Waaldijkstraat; Makkastraat no longer exists; and Beterwonenstraat has since been cut through the middle of the block bounded by Nepveustraat, Rust en Vrede Straat, Pontewerfstraat, and Steenbakkersgracht. Steenbakkersgracht was incorrectly labeled by the cartographer and should have read Drambrandersgracht. Beterwonenstraat was laid in 1948, atop an old Moravian graveyard, as part of an urban renewal housing project. After 1770 this area between Drambrandersgracht, Zwartenhovenbrugstraat, Wanicastraat and Limesgracht was labeled the Vrije Colonie (Free Colony) or Frimangron in Sranan Tongo. Figure Seven, a map by Hiemcke (Archives of the Suriname Museum) clearly shows the expansion of the city past Drambrandersgracht, and the name of this area as the Vrije Colonie.

The parcel divisions of.Frimangron shown on the map

of 1772 must have proven ineffective, for in 1837 a general government resolution (G. B., 1837: No. 3)10 called for the re-categorizing of all neighborhoods in Paramaribo, including the Vrije Colonie (Frimangron). The map of Hiemcke indicates six categories of land in Paramaribo: residential neighborhoods A, B, C, D, and the Vrije Colonie, and the Weiland (common land). The resolution of 1837 called for the creation of two more neighborhoods; one, Wijk F (neighborhood F) to correspond with the area bounded by:

. . . on the east, the Surirname river; on the
north, the Drambrandersgracht; on the south, the
Algemenelandsweg [the Gemenelandsweg of earlier
maps]; on the west, the anicastraat. (G. B., 1837:
No. 3)












































FIGURE SEVEN

POST 1772 EXPANSION OF FRIMANGRON

(Vrye Colonie - Free Colony) Source: Archives of the Suriname Museum





53


.~ U.L~.~p M iff - 71 Flli [7K I,






1 17



GX





I lk


* {>
~3 I




54


Frimangron was no longer set apart as the Vrije Colonie but was considered a legitimate neighborhood of the city.

Government resolutions indicate that well before emancipation manumitted Creoles were responsible before the law. The proper upkeep of house, yard, and street was ordered. A resolution of 1828 (G. B., 1828: No. 17) pointed out that an area of 15 feet out from the front of the house was to be kept clean and that garbage was to be properly eliminated. Stoops and balconies were not to obstruct traffic, and drainage trenches were to be dug and maintained. Footbridges were the responsibility of the parcel owner. Traditional Creole songfests that gathered together large groups of people (does) were forbidden within the city limits. Animals were not allowed to roam free and all houses had to be roofed with shingles. Regulations regarding the construction of outdoor ovens and kitchen were also promulgated.

A resolution in the 1833 proceedings (G. B., 1833: No. 14) stated that to insure the protection of the city from fire, all houses must be roofed with a non-conbustionable material. The houses on Rust en Vrede Straat received special citation in this resolution; the residents could use wooden shingles, perhaps a tacit recognition of their poverty.

The map of Hiemcke shows the western border of Frimrangron to be the Gemenelandsweg. A resolution of 1850 (G. B., 1950: No. 19) called for the expansion and further subdivision of Frimangron past the Gemenelandsweg to the Limesgracht. Lots were being made available, each with an average area of about





55


7,800 square feet. These plots were leased at a rent of 10 florins cents (5 cents U.S.) per 100 square feet per year.

The formal organization of land tenure holding in

Frimangron was altered for the last time in 1884. Until that year the numbering system of the lots or parcels in the neighborhood followed the provisions set down in the resolution of 1837. In the resolution of 1884 (G. B., 1884: No. 2) all plots and yards in Frimangron were assigned new numbers. It appears that the old system was expanded and new plots created; upwards of 460 plots are shown on the map of 1884.

Relatively little is known of manumitted Creoles during

the lth and 19th centuries, and no mention within the literature was found referring to the retired Redi Moesoe or to their descendents. At this juncture, the history of Frimangron's inhabitants becomes an undifferentiated part of of Surinamese Creole history.

Whoever the Creoles were who lived in Frimangron, it seems their position was marginal at best. No large scale agriculture seems to have been practiced in this area. Van Lier (1973: 96-97) notes that it would have been difficult for them to sell their produce in any case, as most whites provisioned themselves from private vegetable gardens tended by slaves. Creoles in Frimangron seem to have planted their own vegetable gardens, while








Some of the free Negros possessed fields or
market gardens in the vicinity of Paramaribo, and in these they cultivated foodstuffs such as vegetables and bananas. They also kept fowls, which they sold in town. Their method of cultivation
was not intensive, however, and they were anything but prosperous. But the large majority
of the free Negros, as a considerable percentage
of the Mulattos, performed no regular work and
enjoyed no regular income. (van Lier 1971:
114-115)

Although they practiced agriculture, Creoles turned

increasingly to wage labor and all its contingencies.

Teenstra confirms that

On small gardens or planting ground, outside
Paramaribo, free blacks live here and there
who now and then bring a few bananas, groundcrops,
coconuts, fish, crab, etc., to the market in the city, and there exchange them for salt, tobacco,
or pipes: Because the Negros are also greatly
endeared to pipe tobacco; also the wowov-meiden
(market women) who sit daily smoking behiln their
wares at the vegetable and fish market. (1842:
51-52)

Thirty-six years later, little seems to have changed, for

Horticulture as practiced by them provides
virtually only enough for their own consumption of the most ordinary foodstuffs; in
addition they occasionally try to earn extra
money as wharf laborers or oarsmen on boats
plying to the plantations. (Cited in van Lier
1971: 224)

If at first the population of Frimangron remained

stable and was replenished by the off-spring of its original

inhabitants, it is doubtful that it remained so after emancipation. Creoles moving into town, mating, establishing

residences and households, buying and selling property,

inheriting property, and moving out of the city either

temporarily or permanently in rhythm with economic cycles


doubtless altered the complexion of Frimangron.


At








emancipation in 1863 the population of the city stood at 18,666; at the end of the state suPervision period in 1873 the population rose to 22,191 with a large increase in the population of the suburbs as well. (Buschkens, 1973: 111)

Buschkens (1973) points out that after emancipation in 1863 small scale agriculture was extensively carried out by Creoles living in the rural districts. The cultivation of caQao in the Saramaka district proved lucrative until 1895 when the small enterprises collapsed due to the ineffective control of plant diseases. What followed then was the "largest trek of Creoles to the city" in the history of

Suriname. (Buschkens, 1973: 113)

A series of migratory cycles took place over the

following 50 years that periodically altered the composition of the urban population. The gold boom of the 1890's and rubber exploitation in the early 1900's syphoned off many male Creoles to the districts, only to have them return to the city with the collapse of the business after a few years (Buschkens, 1973: 115-116). Around 1908, there was a reversal of the urban drift pattern, as some Creoles returned to the land, only to have their numbers decrease in 1922 when they were attracted by the forestry industry. A crisis in the forestry industry and the general economic depression of the 1930's once again forced Creoles back to

the land. Van Lier notes (1971: 234) that "in 1933 the Creole population engaged in small scale agriculture rose from 13,869 to 17,564; by 1940 this number had increased to








26,325." The presence of American troops in Suriname

during the Second World War and the demand for labor and

creation of new facilities drew a large segment of the

rural population back to Paramaribo into wage labor.

One is left with the impression that Creole laborers

exploited opportunities as they arose; most opportunities

being of a short-term duration, and most laborers being

male. It is interesting that land was always held in

reserve and returned to in times of acute "marginality."

This is still done widely today and will be discussed

further in the section dealing with "survival strategies."

Aside, however, from pointing out the growth of the total

urban population, neither van Lier nor Buschkens contribute

data directly on what is going on within Frimangron. One

informant, born in Frimangron in 1888, synthesized the

neighborhood's changes in this way:

From 1896 I remember no grazing or farming
land in Frimangron. All yards were built up with houses. The yards were certainly
larger in general than they are today--almost twice as big--and there were less houses built
on each yard than today. The population is now four or five times larger. There were
Negro and Mulatto families, Hindustanis didn't
come until much later. There were many more Negros than Mulattos then. But I remember no families whose descendents [sic] served in the Vriie Korps or Redi Moesoe. In those days big
lantowners didn't live in Frimangron. I do
remember that between Verlengde Gemenelandsweg
and Verlengde Molenpad a certain Mr. ... had a
piece--a big piece--of land. Later, shortly after
the Second World War, the old man Mr. ... bought
a lot of yards, grounds, and houses and rented
them out. At that time a lot more unskilled laborers and small farmers began moving into
Frimangron. They worked mostly in the city and





59


had their planting grounds along the Pad van
Wanica (outside the city). There was no place
for them to work in Frimangron.

Frimangron has changed. Up until the 1950's the main streets of the area were little more than one-lane dirt paths. Lining each side of the street, between it and the houses, were open drainage ditches and gutters overgrown with trees and bushes. Mostly people chose to walk in the open road, for although there were cleared paths through the bush along the gutters these were the feared Yorka (ancestral ghosts) paths, where ghosts and evil creatures (and thieves!) lingered in wait for their mortal victims. Electricity and running water came to Paramaribo late in the 1920's, but did not arrive in Frimangron until much later. Even today asphalt does not cover every street, nor water and electricity penetrate every back yard. Back yard barracks and cottages, some about to collapse from the weight of age, still house most of the people living in Frimangron.

The residents of Frimangron are not all poor; in fact, some are deceptively well to do. Just who has money, where they get it, what they do with it, who they give it to, and the effect of these variables on the table of organization of the neighborhood, is the sociological point of departure

for the following chapters.

Almost all the houses on the street front are made of

weathered wooden plank aged to a light grey. They are either two story or one story with a tiny attic. Houses in the back yards are not nearly so nice; many have only one wee room and




60


a cooking area (see Figure Eight).

A winkel stands on every corner of Frimangron. Most are owned by Chinese, some by Hindustaiis, none by Creoles. The rest of the street is taken up by private homes, tailor shops, repair shops, fish and fruit vendors, take.-out restaurants, elementary schools, a Catholic and a Moravian church, and other small scale businesses. All these shops are small, privately owned, and usually operated on a part-time basis (except the winkels).

Frimangron is closely tied into downtown Paramaribo.

Police patrol the streets and offenders and lawbreakers from murderers to men who have been delinquent in their child support payments are brought to the courts. Children attend the elementary schools located in the neighborhood, and are taught by teachers from other social classes and other parts of the city. A precious few follow their education through to the universities in Holland. The people make use of hospitals, clinics, and government welfare services. If a neighborhood extension of these national institutions is not located in the neighborhood, the main office is but ten minutes away by bus. Endless lines form daily in front of government offices downtown on the square.

Resident Catholic and Protestant clergy are in the

neighborhood and along with supplying financial and spiritual aid baptize, marry, confirm, and bury--all but confirming recorded civilly as well--the people of Frimangron.

Women, in their occasional shopping tours in the larger















































FIGURE EIGHT

PARTIAL MAP OF NEIGHBORHOOD F--FRIMANGRON Source: Centrale Bureau Luchtkartering, 1965.








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62


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63


stores of downtown and. daily at the central market, must contend with the vissicitudes of the open market system. Money spent at the market is usually disbursed to Hindustani vendors, while money spent in the larger stores flows to upper class Hindustani, Lebanese, or Portuguese merchants who control large scale retailing.

The men who live in Frimangron provide the most important links with downtown. Everyday, if employed, they leave the neighborhood for their jobs. Unless self-employed, as a carpenter, auto mechanic, or flowerpot maker--few are--all men must leave the neighborhood to seek their livelihood. The women, children, and small scale merchants of the neighborhood are almost totally dependent on the wages with which

these working men return.

Frimangron is closely linked to Paramaribo at many levels and is in constant adaptation to the vissicitudes of larger society. For all the connections, however, there are boundary maintaining mechanisms that set the neighborhood apart; different behavior patterns taking place in the context of other forms of human groupings. ' About 6,800 people live here (Algemeen Bureau voor de Statistiek, 1973: 16)12 and although their social connections stretch into downtown they play out their lives in Frimangron (see Figure Nine). The winkel is our focus of our attention here. Its function as a dispensary of necessities and as a meeting place structure much of the rhythm of daily and weekly time, and later influences what spins off a person's life cycle.














































FIGURE NINE POPULATION DENSITY OF PARAMARIBO Key
120 per squecr hoctnre


4' - 250 per square hectare

410 por square hectare

A* 520 ror squ.re hectare
Source: Studiegroup "Paramaribo" 1969.





65


x


x



-3
s -
4








P








NOTES: CHAPTER II


1. See Fontaine(1972).

2. The only complete social history of Suriname is still that of van Lier (1971). Older works are worthwhile: Vlier (1881), Wolbers (1861), Teenstra (1842), and van Blankensteijn (1923).

3. See Eerste Surinaamse Verzekeringsmaatschappij "De Nationale" (1963) and Volders (1966) for photographs and sketches. The best work to date (with over 400 photographs) is by Temminck aoll and Tjin A Drie (1973).

4. See Wooding (1973) for a discussion of bakrus (and the whole realm of magic).

5. See Sampson (1947) for a brief discussion.

6. For a discussion of Bush Negros in Suriname see R. Price (1972). For a discussion of "rebel slave communities in the Americas" see R. Price (ed.) (1973).

7. Most of this material came from private discussions with Brother Abbenhuis and Mr. Andre Loor, both of Paramaribo. The literature is sketchy, but van Lier (1971), Vlier (1881), de Groot (1963), and Quintus Bosz (1964) provide clues.

8. Readers must refer to the archives of the Suriname
-Museum. A recent publication should be helpful for historians; refer to Dr. Ir. C. Koeman (ed.) (1973), a facsimile atlas with text, in English, Spanish, and Dutch.

9. Personal communication with Brother Abbenhuis, a historian and brother in the Catholic church.

10. G. B. is an abbreviation for Gouvernaments Bladen (Government Papers), which are statements of laws and resolutions promulgated by the colonial government. See the bibliography.

11. See Comvalius (1935).

12. This is a very rough estimate calculated by using the population of voting districts that overlap and comprise part(s) of Frimangron. There is no census of Frimangron.












CHAPTER III

THE WINKEL

For male and female, young and old, all day and into

the evening hours, the winkel is the point of aggregation and dispersal. They come to buy rice, oil, spices, canned goods, butter, batteries, boullion blocks, combs, perfume, toys, tea cups, ice, Chinese medicinals, fire crackers, and alcohol. One does not buy all the day's goods at one time; one or two items are always left wanting so that a person may have an excuse for coming back and looking in on this entertaining and important arena.

It is the alcohol that ostensibly attracts the men.

At any time from six in the morning to ten o'clock at night, groups of men of varying dress, deportment and skin shade congregate here to drink whiskey, rum, beer and cognac. They sit at tables or lean on the glass cases; perhaps the winkel might even sport a small, sit-down bar. Women and children continually dart in and out, sometimes having a word with the men who for the first time are localized temporarily in a point in space.

Women do not linger here; their respectability is at stake. Men, however, linger, and midst the story telling, drinking, fraternity, and disbursement of great quantities of money the realities of kinship, residence, mating, friendship and domesticity mesh.

67









The winkel is in many ways a bridge; a waystation between the men's world of commercial downtown Paramaribo and the women's world of the household and neighborhood. It is downtown where the male fulfills his social role (or has it crushed) in the occupational hierarchy of business and government. Regularly or erratically when employed he interacts with and in this hierarchy for his wages and capital resources, resources upon which the household-heading females are critically dependent. Evenings, leisuretime and unemployment find the male back in the neighborhood, spending his time in the winkel rather than the household. The dynamics of adult male social organization, the roles he is expected to play out, are almost centrifugal, spinning men out of the neighborhood and into the realm of salaries and wages.

Women form their most resilient and intense ties with

other females in the neighborhood, within kin-based households, and with friends, neighbors, and club members.- The dynamics of adult female social organization are almost centripedal; relationships devolve in upon the household and upon other

households in the neighborhood. Females invest and consolidate their social capital in confines that do not regularly penetrate the formal occupational structures of downtown.

However, males and females are interdependent, and

neither can exist without at least the partial services of the other. They do, at various times, link up. Their worlds articulate and mesh as though spinning on two separate axes. The most frequent meshing point is the winkel. Adult




69


males are present in households; they regularly sleep, eat, have sex, and have other services performed for them there. They visit women to disburse their funds. However, if one looks at the world of men, and the dynamics of lower class social organization above the household level--a sort of bird's eye view of the neighborhood over time--the household is not the spatial nexus of male-female interaction, but rather the local winkel; the cross roads of city and neighborhood.

The winkel is an easily penetrated male sanctuary. For whatever purposes, women can locate and negotiate with men in this sedentary point in space. It will emerge in this chapter that men are not full-time long term participants in any one household but maintain varying and alternating relationships with many dispersed households, both affinal and consanguineal.

This chapter will open with a description of a typical day in the winkel. Attention will be paid to the personnel, their movements over space and their use of time. It will largely be a discussion of the internal dynamics of the winkel, of men in a male world. Documentation of male behavior will be provided to support a fit or coupling between this chapter and the one that follows on the household and survival group-the realm of the adult women.

Here we must deal with models and theory to grasp the nature of oscillating intra-neighborhood, inter-household organizational forms. The notion of quasi-group and action set (Mayer, 1966) bears on this question. Men not only form





70


action sets with other men but also with clusters of women dispersed -in different households. At any time any one of these men from his winkel headquarters has activated a series of relationships that satisfy his bio-social needs. This action set changes, however, as new circumstances and situations arise, and the male can draw new personnel from his quasigroup pool and formulate new action sets. The relationships he has terminated may temporarily lapse into a latent quasigroup, to be reactivated later or may be shed entirely. Nor do males establish only one household relationship at a time. They may have commitments of varying degrees to many households at the same time. Their resources may be instrumental to the survival of a number of dispersed groups of women. Considering this, it is more accurate to identify the locus of male activity as the stable and sedentary winkel rather than the shifting, temporary household.

A Few Characters

Shortly before the work day begins at 7 o'clock in the morning, Mr. van Kanten leaves his one story, concrete block house and heads in the direction of the main street. The street is quiet, as it is still too early for children to leave for school. Looking into open yards he sees women talking over back yard fences, cleaning up after their breakfasts of tea and bread, and washing clothes. They are not yet ready to begin preparing rice which, ready by ten o'clock, will remain on the stove all day, feeding the hungry mouths of those eligible to eat. Young children rake clean the





71


dirt yards to prepare them for the day's accumulation of rubbish. Men have already left, either for work or a stroll downtown; home is no place to linger.

Mr. van Kanten should be at work too but today like

most days he chose not to go. Occasionally he goes to the office and stays until 9:30 in the morning but rarely ever does he stay later. He works for the government, is friends with the boss, and is not really needed there. Doubtless an efficiency expert would suggest that he be forced to work his shift; but the remedy might cause more trouble than the abuse.

Mr. van Kanten is walking the same path with the same destination that he has walked for the last fifteen years. Two blocks away, on the corner of a busy intersection, stands the winkel of Chung the Chinese. This is a very special winkel. It is clean and spacious, and the owner is not above friendly banter with the Creoles (on whom his business rests), and to whom he extends credit. Well located, it has a reputation as a friendly, safe, and enjoyable place to congregate. Most importantly for the male patrons, largely residents in and around the neighborhood, it enjoys a license that permits the sale of all hard liquors.

The heavy green shutters of the winkel are still boarded shut; undeterred, van Kanten pushes open the tall doors and finds a fleshy, big bellied Chinese sweeping away the residue of last night's gathering. Chung speaks no Dutch, but van Kanten, although light skinned and well educated as a bookkeeper, prefers Sranan Tongo anyway. Van Kanten greets





72


Chung, hails Vrouw Chung who is busy in the back room living quarters cooking for the day's sales, and seats himself at a small table where he will spend most of the day and part of the night.

For Sf 3.501 he orders a half pint of American whiskey and gets with it a glass, bottle of cold water, and a small bowl of ice cubes from Chung's freezer. He could have chosen from a wide stock of local and imported beers, domestic and foreign rum, Dutch gin, brandy, or any one of the many brands of whiskey offered. He claims his frail, 110 pound constitution cannot digest beer; it bloats him and gives a bellyache. Like most of the Creoles who come here, he drinks whiskey and looks down his nose at the local rums which he feels are inferior to American products. Although much cheaper, rum is infrequently drunk. The excuses offered: upsetting digestion, wretched hangovers, instant intoxication, and loss of memory are not above suspicion. A whiskey drinker is a well situated man, or so everyone likes to think.

Chung flings open the shutters and prepares for the daily round of work. The first to troup in will be the school children spending their pennies on sweets before going to the elementary school a few blocks away. They will return again at 2 o'clock when school closes for the day. The children range in age from 5 to about 14 or 15. Everyday they see van Kantan and he sees them. Boys and girls make fun of him, flinging the same barbs they hear their mothers fling against their men. Midst the clamor van Kanten mutters the common





73


critique about today's ill-mannered poorly raised children.

With a casual laugh van Kanten reminisces about his wife and child who left him and went to Holland. They married when he was 32, had a child and settled down in the area. Prior to that he claims to have been quite a lover and visited many women. With his salary of Sf 550 per month and hers of over 700 guilders as a skilled technician they lived very well indeed. (The poverty line as established by the government is a total income of Sf 240 per month for a family of man, woman and four children.) Distressed by his heavy drinking and neighborhood reports of his philandering, she left him three years ago. The five room house to himself, he allied himself with a fellow from the winkel thrown out by his wife, and they roomed together for the next year. Men however need women and this fortuitous coupling of two males would never do. Soon both parted, independently establishing relationships with women.

It is approaching eight o'clock and'the street is alive and roaring with delivery trucks, private vehicles, and the ubiquitous motor bikes. The neighborhood is fully awake and active now, as women trek to the market and to the houses of friends and relatives. They will begin the first of their endless trips to the winkel.

The children are off to school and, in a free moment,

those women still at home can pull aside the curtains covering the two front windows which always flank the door and look out at the people passing by. With a studied stare each
I




74


person is evaluated: their ethnicity, clothing, where they are going, who they are with, and, if possible, who they are. If recognized, the passerby walks to the window, perches one foot on the foundation supporting the house, tilts the head and, after a greeting inquiring into the well being of family and friends, points out such news as local deaths and births, and reviews matters of the day.

Men, especially between the ages of 20 and 50, do not

engage in this behavior. It is bad form; talking to a woman can only arouse suspicion about the designs you have on her. Men know this as well as women, and a disinterested chat might start others to gossiping, or might even cause the other party to think there is an interest there. For a man, this means she may begin following him about, spreading stories, provoking trouble with his other women, or even lingering outside the winkel seeking funds and favors. Sex, even the suggestion of it, can take on a very financial dimension.

Across the street from the winkel, a man in his fifties opens the alley gate to a grey, weathered, two-room cottage, and rolls his bicycle out onto the street. He wears molding, battered rubber sandals on his feet, differentiating him from most of the other people herabouts who prefer the dignity of shoes. His wrinkled pants are cinched around his great paunch with a piece of rope; a white shirt is stuffed willynilly into his trousers. Around his neck he wears a slender gold chain, the only item lending elegance to his demeanor.





75


The color of his skin is black and he is obviously not at all well to do. Entering the winkel, he walks to the counter and, before ordering, greets van Kanten by addressing him as meneer (mr. or sir). Today he must drink beer, it is towards the end of the month and his funds are low.

This is Russel (as he is known to everyone) and he lives with Betty and her old mother. Today he is in the winkel in the morning, as his job as custodian at an office downtown rotates him on shifts. Next week he will come to the winkel in the afternoons and the week after that in the evenings. Today Russel will stay here until 1 o'clock when he goes home for lunch. If it is not prepared and laid out on the table for him there will be trouble. To Russel it would be a clear statement that his concubine has no respect for him. With only a tenuous hold in that residential grouping of two women, he tries to demand respect--at least.

The house in which he lives is owned by his woman's

mother; the rented yard is also in her name. Russel also has

his own house and yard which he inherited with his sister. Eight years ago Russel took up living with Betty. She moved out of her mother's house and came to live with him, the more acceptable form of conjugal residence. (Moving in with the man is all right as long as he is not living with his consanguines.) A few years ago the 80 year old mother fell ill and Betty felt obligated to return to nurse her. Russel accompanied her, and the two of them now sleep in a small bedroom while the mother sleeps on a cot in the sitting room.




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Russel rented out his house and yard and now divides the income with his sister (who chose not to exercise her rights to live there--she had a man). His share amounts to no more than Sf 10 a month, but he never fails to throw it in Betty's face when he wishes to make a show of independence or threatens to leave her because of some real or imagined indignity. He reminds her that he always has a place to go. Besides Betty and Russel have had no children together; she is barren and has no one to turn to.

From Russel's Sf 215 monthly salary he gives Sf 10

apiece to the mothers of the two children he fathered through visiting relationships and Sf 75 to Betty. The remainder of his salary, except for an occasional item such as a radio, is spent at the winkel and on gifts for women he is currently visiting. He has openly engaged in a number of affairs (he once attempted to have intercourse with the visiting daughter of the boarder who stays in the back room of the house) and people in the neighborhood funneled the word back to Betty. A few days ago he bought an expensive bottle of perfume for one of his lady friends and announced to all assembled in the winkel that he was going to her at that moment. When Betty heard this she remarked that he does not even bring her a can of beer.

Among the men who gather regularly at the winkel, Russel has a poor reputation and is often the object of crude jokes. Consensus has it that he is sloppy and dirty (morsoe; a particularly strong indictment from a people who are very con-





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cerned about body cleanliness.) He is also a gossip, a not to be trusted loudmouth. Everyone in Suriname gossips, but judiciously, with desired ends in mind, with certain people, and at proper times and places. Gossip in many ways functions as a recruitment mechanism and boundary maintaining device in the formation of groups. If one is privy to gossip from a certain group one responds in kind, and one participates with few other groups. To do so would compromise credibility in the original groups and threaten its internal equilibrium by signaling out certain of its members as potential targets for harmful gossip that the gossiper intentionally or inadvertently passed on. Russel is gossiped about, and he gossips to many people, but only rarely is he gossiped

"with."

In a society where smart self presentation and verbal

agility are valued, Russel fails. He is neither intelligent nor quick witted and is, in fact, quite gullible. His Dutch

is deplorable and when a situation calls for its usage, he becomes so nervous that he makes blunders in what little of the language he knows. This is crucial, because the Dutch language is an earmark of education, intelligence and upward

mobility (whether the speaker in reality is, or is not, is not the point). Any statement by Russel in Dutch is a clear

statement that he is a poor, uneducated, unrefined "Negro" (nengre or in Dutch, LagerNeger).

This morning Russel is particularly meek with van Kanten. Yesterday his inadequacies as a provider, householder, and man among men were glaring. Two events had occurred.









Late in the morning a group of men had gathered at the winkel and began swapping stories. One story dealt with a young women who lived across the street. Reputedly "loose," she was again carrying a child by some "outside man"~(doro se man). It was roundly conceded that she had a nice figure and was indeed worthy of pursuing for a night's pleasure. However, the conversation went no further and at no time did any of the men present bring up personal details about his own love life nor that of any of the women with whom he kept company. In short, there was no "counting coup" or notches on the bedposts reminiscent of American male locker room talk. Rarely are personal details ever recounted. Everyone present knew every other man's general interests, exploits, number of children, reputation, and so forth anyway from local gossip networks.

Russel, however, spoke in poor taste, proceeding to

point out how he enjoys making love to one of his "outside women" (doro se cema) with whom he has a visiting relationship. The men quoted and looked at Russel with mild disbelief. As he was going into details about exacting coitus by mounting the female from the rear, old Katrina entered the winkel for her morning shot of dram (residue rum left at the bottom of the barrel; in addition to being cheap it is quite potent). Russel, now waving his arms furiously during the narrative, seized upon Katrina and spun her around with her back to him. He forced her head down causing her to bend over and gave a mock demonstration of the rear entry technique for all to see.




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He let her go and with an embarrassed giggle she ran out of the winkel. Russel pointed out this was the nengre doro (Negro door or back door) technique, a form often used by prostitutes who sell their commodities in back allies and behind fences.

There was, during the entire dialogue, no response from the men. No one ordered him to stop even though they found his behavior offensive. It would later emerge that negative sanctions, even if wielded against an obvious offender, temporarily strain the internal cohesion of the group by

calling into action various relationships of "allies." An individual belongs to many such overlapping dyads, and it would call into play alliances that were not mutually exclusive. Choices would have to be made, thus sacrificing group cohesion--the raison d'etre for the group's existence. In essence, there was a wholesale inhibition of aggressiveness.

This same day at about one or two o'clock, after the morning's drinking was done, the men dispersed, each going his own way. For all the intensity of interaction and open confirmation of good fellowship within the winkel, there is no common participation in group activities outside the winkel by these men.

Russel left the winkel and walked home to confront his

second dilemma. Entering the back yard he saw a man climbing the canipa (a local fruit) tree with a sack which he was loading with pilfered fruit. Doing this two or three more times he hopped over the fence and disappeared. Russel did








not attempt to stop the man or hail him, or notify Betty or what was happening, or call the police. He did however recognize the man and the next morning at the winkel he spread the tale of the pilferage, casting aspersions on the thief and his family.

In the winkel the following day a ruckus was heard outside caused by two women and a man approaching the winkel. They entered in a rage, surrounding Russel. The men in the winkel quietly put down their glasses and uttered not a peep. It was the fruit thief. Not so much as referring to the incident, he berated Russel for spreading tales and gossiping

about him "outside" (doro se). He stated that he did not wish to speak to Russel since Russel was owner of neither the trees nor yard, but rather, to his woman, Betty, who was. Russel could not go to fetch Betty, as she, being protective of her respectability, would not deal with strangers in a public forum.2 The man pointed out that since Russel was not the owner of the trees he therefore had no right to spread tales. The crowd sided with the thief; popular morality had it that it would have been far better if Russel had forgotten

the incident or had informed Betty.

The tirade was not yet done. With unspoken agreement from the crowd the three accused parties poured forth venom on Russel, dragging up as much damaging history as they could remember. A constant refrain was Russel's inability to fulfill the role of provider, thus forcing Betty to supplement the household income by selling fruits, ice blocks, and









performing services (ironing) for other people. The three went on to point out that his sister was loose and Russel was an irresponsible father of his two children born in visiting relationships. The incident of the stolen caniipa was all but forgotten.

At this point old Katrina entered the winkel. Seizing

upon Russel's vulnerable position she too proceeded to deride him. A resident of the neighborhood for all her 70 years she knew more volatile gossip about Russel than anyone else, and gave forth. The audience listened attentively.

By the end of Russel's kroetoe (in this case, argument), little had been said about the canipa or the mock sex act, but he had been cut down to size, as the status bloodbath leveled him to beneath the status of his peers. Russel will remember this and balance out the record when he gets a chance.

A number of interesting things were going on in this

incident. The Creole population of Paramaribo is small, and most of them live in, albeit broad, residential clusters. Networks of kinship, mating, friendship and social and political clubs tie the group tenuously together. Information of all stripes (gossip, notices, instructions, condemnations, and so forth) flow along these lines. People are in relatively close contact and know a great deal about each other. More of course is known about people within the same residential area and same class. The intense contact does increase the chances of real or alleged injustices among parties. However,

since it is a small group, cross cut by alliances of various kinds








(overlapping kindreds, descent group membership, and exchange networks) an open display of aggressiveness would be disturbing and disrupting. As a result, there is much unexpressed hostility. There are sanctioned times, places and situations where a person or group can blow off steam without upsetting the equilibrium of the entire group by calling into play various allegiances and commitments.3

This morning, when Russel joined van Kanten, the winkel was active as usual. Women and children ducked in and out on their endless errands. They are careful and speak to and acknowledge only those they know well. However, they look carefully and listen to everything. Delivery men come and go, as well as men stopping in for a drink before continuing on to work.

Should one now go to the downtown shopping areas the

streets would be found crowded with official looking clerks in uniform, men in white shirts and ties, department store personnel in their costumes, and other workers, all busily engaged in buying their daily provisions. Businesses in Paramaribo are open from 7 o'clock in the morning until 1 in the afternoon and from 4 in the afternoon until 6 o'clock in the evening. Except for government personnel whose total work day ends at 2 c'clock in the afternoon, almost everyone in Paramaribo works this shift. Every morning between 9 and 10 o'clock the streets, shops and markets are filled with workers doing their chores on company time.

Also about this time in the morning a group of young men








in their late teens gathers on the corner outside the winkel. The older men (24 and older) never stay outside, but remain inside; the teenagers, however, move freely between the public world and the private domain. This movement in space is quite reflective of their winkel status and is discussed under the sub-section dealing with winkel recruitment.

There are six older teenagers, all from the neighborhood, and every mid-morning, through the day, and into the evening

they can be found here on the corner or in one of the adjacent back yards. They are all unemployed, and claim that the low salaries being paid do not make it worth their while to work. They all have high aspirations. Not one has more than an elementary school education. They claim that even if they went to school suitable jobs would not be available for them. Often they speak of going to Holland, both for the opportunities and the excitement. A Hindustani controlled government is in power now, and many Creoles are feeling the pinch, especially when a favor needs to be done.

Two of the boys are brothers and live with their mother, three sisters, and their mother's third man. All the siblings are getting older and will soon form new residential households with their concubines if finances permit. Otherwise, the women, with children or not, will remain with their mother. The boys will stay around home longer than the girls, as they tend to establish their semi-permanent mating relationships

a few years later. However, all have the right to return to mother if things do not go well in their new households.








The boys supplement their meager incomes by doing

temporary odd jobs, soliciting food and money from their aunt around the corner, getting a guilder or two from their working sister, occasionally engaging in praedial theft, and being present at auspicious moments when the men in the winkel, either on payday or when in a jolly mood, buy them a beer.

The fellows all live in roughly the same arrangement; all with kin, either mother or mother's sister. All their siblings arepresent. One fellow has brought in his concubine as well. However, this is not an ideal situation and as soon as he gets a job he will search for a small house and move out. The other fellows all mate extra-residentially with female age-mates in the neighborhood and as yet have no children.

The young men are all dressed in clean shirts and pressed slacks. All are considered well mannered and pleasant, although one of them has a reputation of being a.thief. He does not steal from the neighborhood and so is not strongly censured or condemned, although watched suspiciously.

When it is available, and they have the money, they occasionally smoke marijuana in the back yards under the trees. More frequently they drink beer. The adult men in the winkel do not really know what marijuana is, other than that the media tell them it is bad. They are not interested and do not criticize the youths on this count. The marijuana itself, sold usually in the quantity of two joints for Sf 5, is of poor quality and is usually cut with vegetable greens.








The boys buy only from trusted pushers who get their goods from Holland or Brazil and make the rounds from neighborhood to neighborhood. Marijuana is illegal in Suriname.

The boys infrequently go downtown to patronize the cafes, restaurant-beer joints, record shops, and other places of congregation. Better off and better educated youths (middle school or high school) usually spend their time in the city. Clerks, salesgirls, students, and the leisured can be seen hob-nobbing with the returnees from Holland, easily identified by their gaudy European trappings. The fellows who stand outside the winkel are much more comfortable in the neighborhood environment with its known safe places, faces and expectations than in hectic downtown Paramaribo.

Two men approach the winkel from different directions.

One of them arrives by car and is smartly dressed in white shirt, tie loosened at the neck, and slacks. He used to come regularly every morning at 10 o'clock from his post in government and stay for one drink or many depending on how urgent the day's work was. Since getting embroiled in a controversial issue that conflicted with the proper execution of his non-partisan work he left the job to work at his political party headquarters. This is Schill, a light skinned friendly, intelligent man in his forties, a principal character in the winkel.

Marcell approaches by foot. Ill planned weight lifting in his youth left him with broad muscular shoulders, bulging


. 7 . -








biceps, narrow hips and spindly legs. He is a dark skinned man in his late twenties, dressed very, very casually in modish slacks and a pull over jersey. Usually he sports a cowboy hat. He saunters with a slightly arrogant air and appears ready to take on any challenge. All of Marcell's traits, both physical and social, would lead strangers to stereotype him as a "bad boy" (ogri boi--thief, fighter, parasite, etc.). Totally to the contrary he is not, for he holds a position as a highly skilled blue collar worker, and with overtime pay draws one of the highest salaries in the neighborhood. With his money he, like all the other men in the winkel, supports a number of households containing kin and friends.

The unlikely pair meet, sit down together at the same table with van Kanten and Russel, and share a bottle of whiskey. Marcell calls to t.he Chinese to put it on the credit tab he pays every fortnight. Schill talks incessently of politics, mostly of the days of glory during the Johan Pengel regime. (He was the Creole Prime Minister of Suriname from 1963 through 1969.) Plans are discussed for the days to come when he and his friends can reassume positions of prestige.

When Schill talks, people in the winkel listen as he is privy to much (but not all) of what goes on at higher levels and has the ear of important people (who usually do not listen to him). Everyone in the winkel either listens or contributes to these forum like dialogues injecting their own opinions, perceptions and preferences.








Schill is a broker between the masses and the upper

echelons. Each neighborhood has at least one, and they all act in roughly similar modes by developing patronage networks, establishing personal contacts with high status neighborhood personages, dispensing favors, and passing information up and down. Most of Schill's political work is done through women for they form clubs and organizations, either for pleasure, mutual aid, or political organization and recruitment. Women's groups'ramify far outside the household and serve a very basic function in integrating the neighborhood. Men on the other hand are dispersed far and wide and rarely form formal groups. Schill calls on them at the winkel and can be expected to show up every morning.

Marcell listens, an occasional wry look passing over

his face. Marcell first met Schill when he originally came here, and is still suspicious of what motivates Schill to enter the political arena. In Suriname it is widely acknowledged that politics is a game one plays for personal profit and gain. And why not, they say; better a few should get a lion's share while passing on the rest, than everybody getting nothing. Marcell will cast his vote for Schill's party, as will most Creoles; but Marcell knows Schill's story.

In the heady days of Pengel's regime, Schill had a high position in a government department. He drew a salary of almost Sf 600 a month, had a government car, and received a number of fringe benefits (that an outsider would call "petty graft") that increased his salary handsomely. He had a good








education (through high school) and took some specialized technical courses. He was married and had three children.

At this time he spent very little time at the winkel, preferring instead the slick casinos, bars, and restaurants of downtown. A fast life led to the dissolution of his marriage. He moved in with van Kanten sleeping there, eating at his sister's and having his laundry done by his ex-wife. He visited other women in tenuous waka-waka (walking or visiting) relationships.

All went smoothly until the collapse of the Pengel government in 1969. Schill was placed in an unimportant department, still drawing his same salary, but without the fringe benefits. His contacts out of power, his earnings diminished, and his old congregating places filled with new and unfriendly faces, Schill joined the winkel crew.

Later he was appointed president of a local-level political cell in a nearby ward and began expanding his social and political network throughout Frimangron. His contacts with people were personal and "many-stranded" and soon Schill became a familiar part of the area. He could be counted on to provide five guilders for a penniless mother, an old bicycle for an especially deprived child, to regel (arrange) someone seeking a job, and other small-scale trifles necessary for the daily existence of the people. The relationships formed are not binding or as institutionalized as classical "patron-client" ties (Foster, 1961). Rather, they are shortterm, situational patronage ties unembedded in any other









institutions such as ritual or fictive kinship. The "client" was relatively unencumbered by formal statements of rights and duties.

Schill's mating behavior changed too. From far flung

contacts with many females, he began to see more and more of a young woman who lived up the street from the winkel. She would wait for him every morning and evening outside the winkel and when he was finished inside they would go off to his house. About this same time he rented a house in a residential area more prestigious than Frimangron while continuing his daily contact. He continued to mate extra-residentially with his young woman, a sister of the two teenage brothers described earlier.

While others listen to Schill's deliveries, Marcell stares out the window, his eyes seizing upon every moving object. Last night he worked the night shift at the Affobakka dam and rode the sixty kilometers back to the city to enjoy his day off before returning again that afternoon. The aluminum company provides food and shelter for the men who work at Affobakka, but, without the excitement of Paramaribo, the men do not like it there and prefer the long daily journey back to foto. He arrived in Paramaribo at 2 o'clock in the morning, slept until 9 o'clock, drank a glass of ice water and came to the winkel.

At this point Marcell is enjoying the sexual services

of five women; he has the economic resources to do it. When the women are short of money they can come to him for aid;





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his periodic disbursals of anything, from small change to upwards of Sf 100 make him invaluable. They all know where to find him and often in the evenings a whisper through the window will draw him outside. He may call upon them for services (sex, running an errand, housecleaning) that evening, the next day, or next week. The connection may remain latent, often reactivated first by a woman.

Today he is off and wants to enjoy himself. Two of his women are out of town, one is being visited by her man who was away working in the jungle, one is menstruating, and the other is pregnant. The woman with whom he lives is away visiting her sister. Marcell is coy and women, knowing his reputation as a high wage earner and liberal gift giver, do not often shun his come-ons.

While the others debate politics and abstract points,

Marcell spots three teenage girls strolling down the street. Casually he places his head close to the window and just as casually the tallest of the three girls swings in close to the side of the building. He whispers an invitation for later and with a nonchalant nod it is accepted. Tirelessly he continues to scan the street, and a few moments later spots two more young women approaching. He whistles at them and they come to the window. Both ask for cigarettes and they tell him they are on their way home from market. Marcell does not know them, but they are familiar with him. Drinking the last sip of beer, Marcell yells to Vrouw Chung and asks for another bottle. Told there are no more he pulls a Sf 2.50 note from his pocket and'handing it to the most talkative of




Full Text

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STREET CORNER WINKELS AND DISPERSED HOUSEHOLDS: MALE ADAPTATION TO MARGlNALITY IN A LOWER CLASS CREOLE NEIGHBORHOOD IN PARAMARIBO By GARY BRANA-3HUTE A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 1974

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The obligation of paying thanks is not a heavy one for me. I have been most fortunate and not a little bit lucky. The Foreign Area Program, under grant 71-9 , provided funds for the execution of this project, generously allowing for both a pre-field stipend for language study and for a complete second year renewal. The National Science Foundation, under grant GS-31215, provided supplementary funds. The Foreign Area Program's affiliation policy offers a partial solution, or at least aspires to finding a solution, to many of the still unresolved ethical questions surrounding research in foreign countries and the unsavory poss ibility of either consciously or unconsciously engaging in "academic imperialism." In order to open dialogue between the researcher and members of the host country society, I found two rich and warm institutional contacts in Suriname and one in the Netherlands. Andre Loor of the Cultural Section of the Ministry of Education provided me with many hours of his time. His knowledge of Surinamese history added new dimensions to this study of Paramaribo. Jules Coutinho, of the Ministry of Public Works and Traffic, spent an equal number of hours pointing out the complexity and nature of problems facing emerging nations. Dr. R. A. J. van Lier of the Department of Rural Sociology of the Tropics and sub-Tropics at > ii s

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Wagningen, the Netherlands, agreed to act as an academic contact . Contacts and grant monies facilitate a study of this nature and make it possible. However, very little would appear on the following pages without the cooperation and kindness of my friends in Paramaribo in 1972 and 1973. It is to the people whose lives are described in these pages that I owe my greatest debt of gratitude. None of them have titles, in fact, many of their names cannot even be found in the telephone book. They are however dearly remembered. To the people of Friman gron I extend my warmest thanks. The Department of Anthropology provided me with a teaching assistantship during my entire residency at the University of Florida. Dr. Charles Wagley and the Program Steering 'Committee graciously arranged a write-up stipend from the "Tropical South American Research and Training Program" . Aside from caring for my material well-being, I would like to thank the faculty for preparing me for the biggest undertaking in my academic career. Graduate training can be as much suffocation as enlightenment. Finding an agreeable committee, and more importantly, an agreeable chairman, constitutes a necessity that everyone recognizes but few care to discuss. Dr. G. Alexander Moore, Jr., the chairman of my committee is a gentleman and with his guidance I systematically and enjoyably explored social anthropology. Dr. Cornells Goslinga of the History Department proffered data regarding the iii

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colonial history of the Dutch in the Caribbean and time and energy in introducing me to the Dutch language. It is customary to conclude an acknowledgments section by showering praise on one's spouse — for typing, providing a soft shoulder 1 , or putting up with erratic behavior. It would be unfair for me to thank my wife Rosemary, for intellectually this was her project as well as mine. Not only was she inseparably involved in every step of the research, from its design through the long and sometimes tedious hours of its execution, but she wielded expertise in areas where I at best would blunder. Translations from Dutch and Sranan Tongo are mine, as are any misinterpretations, incorrect citations or inaccurate observations . xv

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Acknowledgments ii List of Tables vi List of Figures vii Abstract viii CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION 1 Statement of Problem 1 Methodology 14 Plural Society 16 Notes 21 CHAPTER II: THE NEIGHBORHOOD IN SPACE AND TIME 23 Setting 23 History of Frimangron 47 Notes 66 CHAPTER III: THE WINKEL 67 A Few Characters 70 Men in Groups: Centrifugal and Centripedal Forces 96 Friendship and Mutual Aid 111 Strangers, Gossip, and Status Leveling 117 Interaction: Recruitment and Expulsion 123 Notes 141 CHAPTER IV: THE FAMILY, HOUSEHOLD AND DOMESTIC GROUPS AS ACTION SET AND QUASI-GROUP 142 Household -Winkel Interaction 145 Case Studies 153 Notes 205 CHAPTER V: MARCELL'S STORY: SOCIAL PROBLEMS AND RITUAL THERAPY 207 Notes 267 CHAPTER VI: CONCLUSION 26S Winkel Behavior, Serial Polygyny and Household Form 26 S Winkel and Household Links 271 The Winkel as Headquarters 273 Notes 279 APPENDIX 2S0 BIBLIOGRAPHY 2 S 4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 293 v

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LIST OF TABLES TABLE I II Page Working Population by Occupational Category Ethnic Group and Sex 19 Winkel Crew by Age, Salary, Residence, Mating Arrangement , etc. 100 vi

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LIST OF FIGURES FIGURE Page One Map of Suriname 25 Two Map of Paramaribo 33 Three Paramaribo — A Few Typical Street Profiles 3 S Four A Few Categories of Land Use 43 Five Traditional City Gutters 46 Six First Subdivisions of Frimangron , 1772 50 Seven Post 1772 Expansion of Frimangron 53 Eight Partial Map of Neighborhood F Frimangron 62 Nine Population Density of Paramaribo 65 Ten Schill's Relationships 157 Eleven Josha and Adolf's Ritual Participants 166 Twelve Josha and Adolf's Residential Arrangement 171 Thirteen Josha and Adolf's Economic Networks 176 Fourteen Josha and Adolf’s Expanded Household I 7 S Fifteen Myra's Household Over Time and Space 1$4 Sixteen Betty's Household and Tangent Arrangements 193 Seventeen Marcell's Residential Arrangement 196 Eighteen Marcell's Residential Arrangements 197 Nineteen Marcell's Residential Arrangements 199 Twenty Marcell's Expanded Households 201 Twenty-one Marcell's Disbursal Patterns 203 Twenty-two Ritual Symbol Used in Ceremony 247 } Vll

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Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Council of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy STREETCORNER WINKELS AND DISPERSED HOUSEHOLDS: _ MALE ADAPTATION TO MARGINALITY IN A LOWER CLASS CREOLE NEIGHBORHOOD IN PARAMARIBO : 7 ’ r: " By GARY BRANA-SHUTE December, 1974 Chairman: G. Alexander Moore, Jr. Major Department: Anthropology A methodological and analytical concentration on women and children biased almost all prior studies of black West Indian society. By h-heir occupation of a residential structure tied to a point in space, adult females and children have been relatively easy to locate, describe, and analyze. A relative neglect of the study of males resulted in portraits of black society populated almost solely by women and children, with males depicted as "somewhat shadowy figures who drift in and out of the lives of family members" (Liebow, 1967: 5) . With black society described as " mat ricentered" or "matri— focal," matrifocality itself became an object of study without reference to extra-household developmental cycles, larger on-going connections with kindred and friends, or concern with all-male groups and points of male congregation. To help correct this bias, we must look at extra-household points of interaction around which males frequently and vm

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regularly aggregate and disperse during their adult lives. This, study deals with the survival strategies employed by groups of lower class Creoles in Paramaribo, Suriname to exploit their socio-economic environment by surrounding themselves with "action sets" (Mayer, 1966) composed of horizontal relationships to others sharing a similar socioeconomic situation. Attention focuses on male behavior, visualizing selected males, in varying positions along the life cycle and on the status hierarchy, as egos in kin and non-kin networks. These networks can be located and defined by following the movements of males over time and space while recording the frequency, duration, and content of the relationships they establish. Seen from this perspective the study of the dynamics of lower class social organization in adaptation to marginality, the selection of family, co-residential unit, or household as the concrete unit of observationis both misleading and inaccurate. Rather, these males and the relationships they form, with their conjugals, consanguines and friends, constitute the "minimal survival group" that transcends the family, household or domestic group . The neighborhood shop, the winkel , is more than a dispensary of alcoholic beverages. The winkel is a neighborhood waystation for lower class men, the one neutral and accessible point in space where men with similar mating and residential arrangements can congregate and interact. These males are relatively marginal to the occupational hierarchy ix

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of "downtown” as well as to the many dispersed households and domestic groups, either affinal or consanguineal, in which they are members. In many ways, the men who gather at the winkel have no place else to go. Tn accordance with Chappie and Coon (1942), the winkel may be considered a form of association: a group of people (males) who have established the same type of relationships with others (women as conjugals and consanguines ) and with each other (marginal males) and begin to interact regularly on that basis. The winkel as association absorbs shocks and disturbances in male interaction generated by other institutions and groups within the society. The loss of a job, temporary or permanent departure from a household, the accretion or shedding of a mate, all alter the males' use of time, space, preferred activities and people. Within this association forum, a new equilibrium is established as males increase or decrease the frequency, intensity, and duration of their participation with other males and, eventually, with other female— headed groups . x

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CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION Statement of Problem This is an ethnography of lower class black males living in Paramaribo, the capital city of Suriname. They are called Creoles, as is anyone living on the coast who is to any degree identifiably of African ancestry, and who also acts like a Creole. More specifically, most of the men in this study are called nengre (black people) to distinguish them from the lighter skinned mu latt a (mulattos) . Here the cultural factor again plays a role. Nengre and mulatta act differently from one another. The historical underpinnings of this phenomenon in the Caribbean have been widely discussed. Upward mobility for vast numbers of nengre became possible only in the I960’ s, and as yet there is no word in either Dutch or ilESIlSll To ago > the local "creole” language, to express a black man ( nengre ) who acts like a mulatto or to account for people who participate alternately or simultaneously in both "traditions." Rapid changes in Surinamese society begun in the last decade have increasingly blurred the distinction between nengre and mulatta . I shall refrain from further use of these categories and refer to the men in this study, * Notes will be included at the conclusion of each chapter. 1

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2 whatever their color shade, status, occupation, or cultural tradition, as Creoles, the term agreeable to all non— tribal black Surinamers. A concentration on females and children has biased all prior studies of West Indian society and almost all studies o of New World Blacks. By their occupation of a residential structure tied to a point in space, adult females and children have been relatively easy to locate, describe, and analyze. Relative neglect of the study of males resulted in portraits of black society populated almost solely by women and children, with males depicted as "somewhat shadowy figures who drift in and out of the lives of family members h (Liebow, 1967:5). Except for a very few monographs, some dealing only obliquely with men, we know virtually nothing about the behavior of lower class black males. 3 Aside from Liebow ( 1967 ), who presents a limited ethnography of "street corner men" and their behavior in a restricted point in space and time, in no case do we have a full scale ethnography of. lower class male behavior. In this ethnographic void, black society emerged as "mat ri— centered" or "matrifocal." Correspondingly, "mat rif ocality" itself became an object of study without reference to extra-household developmental cycles, larger on— going connections with kindred and friends, or concern with environing factors affecting the composition of the family or female-headed group in question. Gonzalez (1970: 243) points out that matrifocality may only be an "organizing principle" in the domestic domain, and that distinctions

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3 must be made to avoid the loose use of such terms as matrifocal, matricentered, and consanguiniality. I choose to go in a direction different from that of the preceding authors. This is a study of Creole "street corner men" in their natural habitat: the winkel,^ the back yard, at work, and with kin, friends, lovers, and children. It does not limit their lives only to the bar or street corner but follows their movements through time and space. They are followed along their life cycles, while describing their behavior, the statuses into which they are initiated, the groups to which they belong, and the alliances they form As Moore (1973) has effectively demonstrated the life cycle is a useful organizing principle for structuring the process and variation of human behavior. Women are not omitted simply because this is a study of men. In commenting on a statement by Nancie Gonzalez concerning the dispersed nature of nuclear families within and between households, R. T. Smith suggested that Her observations could be duplicated from every report that has ever been written on lower class Negro life, and it is quite true that the concentration of attention upon the household as a functioning unit of child care and economic organization has tended to divert attention from the networks of relationships linking households to each other. (R. T. Smith, 1963: 33) Still, the study of relatively sedentary women and children does not illuminate the links tying households together, for these links are to be found in the movements of men both through time and over space, the networks

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4 of kin and friends they form. The ultimate objective is to analyze the social networks of individuals, predominantly men, either in kindreds seen as action sets or groups of loosely associated peers, and to delineate the contributions they make to the functioning of households in which they are participants. Goods and services are transferred along what can be considered exchange networks. Above all, these networks of inter-household linkage will be viewed processurally in terms of a developmental cycle based on ego’s age, sex, status, occupation, mating arrangement, situation, and alternative options. The problem is twofold. We need to deal with the "family-household" as a dynamic subsystem in constant adjustment to its environment at whatever its point on a developmental cycle. Also, we must firmly identify on—going connections with temporarily absent males, who as members of the occupational hierarchy, link up the "family-household" subsystem with other such subsystems and with larger society. We have to locate a viable and realistic unit of observation. The black family and household in the Caribbean have been the objects of scientific study for at least the last forty years. Characteristically the researcher set forth to typologize the various forms of household or to identify certain family relationships that, because of their tenacity or brittleness, gave form and content to the expression of household. Then various explanatory models were proposed.^ Without fail most researchers began their investigations by identifying a sedentary point in space, a hearth, and

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5 then carefully defining and delineating the relationships that took place within the enclosed area. The anthropologist in. search of family sees first the house, surrounded by other houses in yards on family land, separated by barbed wire fences, as a thatched roof in the distance, emerging between trees of breadfruit, ackee or mango on the edge of a yam field; or as a white painted cottage behind regular lines of orange trees with their green and yellow fruit . Within that house, be it hut or cottage, is contained, for some time of the day or night, part of the group which he is about to study. (Clarke, 1957: 2d) As though by act of faith researchers set forth to study family, kinship, residence, and household by applying a priori definitions of the same to complicated systems of interaction and behavior. The phenomena are promptly "named” and "nailed." If social structure is an orderly system of interactions played out processurally in a changing environment of time and space, by what empirical right do we limit this drama to a bedroom, house, or yard? Household, the nexus of these relationships, is usually described in material terms. Cultural artifact and structural process are not the same level of abstraction and should not be equated or compared, although the equation persists as "the household is defined as the group of people who live under one roof, who eat and sleep together, and who cooperate daily for the common benefit of all" (Gonzalez, 1969: 45 ). Authors are quick to point out that in lower class "households" boundaries are shifting and porous allowing for the temporary or permanent recruitment of new members or the release of old members. What then do we do with the

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6 question of household membership? When is one a member and when is one not? Suddenly the strictures imposed by common hearth and roof are glaring. Some authors ignore the dilemma, others point out the discrepancy and do nothing more about it, while still others attribute the absent member phenomena to some sort of black adaptability or flexibility to the vissi— tudes of poverty without explaining how the process works. M • ' G. Smith (1962: 13) resorts to an arbitrary definition of household membership: Households are units, the members of which eat and dwell together as a rule. ... I have included all persons who resided together for four days of the previous week within the units surveyed. I have excluded all who did not. In one arbitrary move Smith severed what possibly may be enduring, crucial social relationships, and excluded people from membership who are absent in space for more than three days out of the previous week. However, his own a. priori definition of the phenomena he wanted to study trapped him. Having stated what a household is (should be?) he ignored the empirical data that fell outside the parameters of his model. Two pages later Smith began a discussion on household membership and roles. He distinguished principal from dependent members of household groups and, in defining his terms, contradicted his previous statement: We . may begin by making a distinction between principal and dependent members of household groups. Dependents are those members of household groups who do not exercise leadership roles. . . . An absent mate or child whose contributions serve to maintain the group is an absent principal. (1962: 15)

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7 What happens if the absent principal is absent for more than three days a week? Is he (or she) denied even the marginal status of "absent principal 1 '? Also, if the absent principal makes "contributions serving to maintain" the household from afar, why does he have to return to the household, , or why did he ever have to be a resident in the first place? I suggest that our conceptual formulations and their expression in the form of "family," "household," and "domestic group" are inadequate and misleading for the study of the dynamics of lower class black society, and that, in the study of social structure and organization, we must begin our analysis with other units of observation. In a departure from her previous statement, Gonzalez seems to have revised her original definition of household by offering an insightful and critical distinction between kinship, household, and domestic unit. The points she raises are necessary for understanding lower class black society: I suggest that we reserve the term household for the cooperating group which maintains and participates in a given residential structure, even though the contribution of any one individual may be only part time. In this case, the concept that households are closed, bounded units must be modified. Indeed the fact that individuals have simultaneous loyalties to more than one such grouping may be important in understanding the social structure as a whole. I further suggest that men, particularly, tend to be placed in positions in which potential conflict between households devolves upon them. . . . Family seems most usefully defined in terms of kinship networks; that is, the different types of families can be described in terms of the kind of kinship bonds among the different individuals considered to be members of the unit. In this case the family grouping may be considered

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a concrete unit but is not necessarily a co-residentiai unit. Neither can we say, structurally speaking, that families are mutually exclusive bonded units. (1970: 232-233) This definition departs considerably from traditional ones of households and lends dynamism to the study of these groupings. Once the hurdle of thinking in "bounded" terms is vaulted we can look at society in all its complexity of cross-cutting and overlapping networks. For the study of household this suggestion is especially useful. Simply because someone is absent for certain periods of time is no reason to overlook him (usually "him") when discussing the functioning of the group. Frequency of contact is not more important than intensity and content in the discussion of function. Family and household are excellent units of observation and analysis for the study of middle class society. Here the overlap between nuclear family and household is pronounced. There is little personal dependence on outsiders or kinsmen for the maintainance of the domestic group. However, no amount of typologizing variations, refining, disclaiming, and statistical shuffling will make lower class (Creoles) live in households where family, household, and domestic group neatly dovetail into one manageable unit. If the researcher chooses to remain oblivious to this reality, he or she will fail to identify and grasp the dynamics of the system under study. In the investigation of the interplay of these cultural and social instrumentalities , the focus is on "lower class"

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9 Creoles. A brief explanation of parameters will be offered here with the ethnography offered in support of my position. ^ I visualize class more in structural-behavioral than material terms. For example, a number of my informants made substantial incomes and managed to surround themselves with material items. However, it was the spending arrangements and the social relationships that arose from and around these disbursal patterns that distinguished these men from other "classes." Amount of income, education, and sleeping arrangements are merely traits and not the abstraction of class itself. A critical constant facing the people in this study is economic survival. They live in a cash economy but have little control over the economic resources upon which they are dependent. The cash economy with all its contingencies is the environment to which these people must adapt. Within this environment, lower class Creoles are either directly or indirectly denied complete access to and the privilege of fully exploiting its resources. This exclusion forces lower class people into a marginal position within society and it is to this marginality that they adapt by constructing organizational forms and ideological sentiments that permit certain economic gains to be made. Whitten and Szwed point out the necessity for elasticity in social arrangements in such an environment : Where by one means or another individuals are kept outside the resources of economic change, definable bounded groups are maladaptive, and survival value for them is thereby limited.

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10 Constant subjugation to varying inputs from externally generated cash nexi seensto favor the development of networks of individuals, 7 making up strings of quasi-groups. (1970: 45) / In their patterned movement over time and space, males articulate dispersed households, and in their inter— face with each other provide support that bundles a number of smaller units into a larger survival group. The male can also be an independent link between two or more households that are not mutually interdependent; this is more often the case for younger men. The family or household is not the viable economic unit in lower class social organization. i The question of whether a man is a resident of one or the other household is not particularly important here. The question is what function does this male have in maintaining this unit, and what other relationships does the unit build out around itself in addition to this male. This leads us to a study of male networks, as well as "extrahousehold" networks, and the role each male ego plays as he is placed in each of the structural situations that surround him. Through the sharing of common males "families and households" overlap in a context of shifting time and space • . & and as such resemble what Mayer (1966) calls action sets. In his discussion of quasi-groups and action sets Mayer points out that an individual is surrounded by an unbounded field of personal contacts and connections which form a network of relationships with him or her at the middle. Not all these

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11 contacts are intimately involved with ego all the time nor with the same degree of intensity. If a contact is not needed for the completion of a certain .activity or to expedite a service, it may lie' dormant until ego initiates a request for assistance which the person contacted can refuse or acknowledge . When ego activates or reactivates contacts with these potential "others” in his quasi— group he creates about himself a group of mobilized personnel who, not necessarily in contact with each other, are instrumental to some of ego's activities. The duration of an action may be short term or long term (and contact may vary in degrees of intensity frequency) before it dissolves into ego's quasi— group pool. The process of completely shedding a person from the quasi-group, thus removing him or her as a potential resource, occurs as well. A comparative analysis of various action sets reveals certain common structural convergences revolving around kinship, residence, mutual support, occupational status, and so forth. These shared characteristics will be more fully explored in Chapter IV. A male ego is surrounded by a quasi-group of personal kindred, kith, and exploitable others. In this social context kinship, either cognatic descent, or the personal kindred, functions as one of the variables that determines "rights to group membership," (Fox, 1967: 52 ). The relationship of exploiter-exploited works both ways at all

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12 times. There are positive gains in every relationship no t matter how unbalanced it may appear. Within this network ego has a family of father, mother, siblings, patri-and matri-collaterals and lineals, and affines, all of whom may individually be spread throughout different residential units. Ego also has concubines and lovers who may or may not have borne him children. He has distant relatives and friends as well. I suggest that these "households" with which ego is often confusedly aligned are more accurately action sets that he developmentally and situationally establishes. The "brittleness of West Indian conjugal relationships," the incidence of 'denuded households" and "matrifocal and consanguineal families" might not be so strange and unpredictable if considered in the context of "the tactical opening, closing, breaking, and reactivation of dyadic contacts, usually within the context of real, ritual, or fictive kin." (Whitten, 1969a: 231-232) These relationships are all pieces of a strategy. The women play as well as the men. Any one individual has a network of personal links built up around him or her to insure the fulfillment of certain vital services. The boundaries of the network shift, adding here and deleting there, as the person faces new situations to which he or she must adapt. Economic contingency, progression along the life cycle, movement in space, initiation to a new status, or the possibility of short term gain all affect the composition of the group(s) within which ego interacts.

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13 In this case, family and households are merely sub-systems interacting with other similar sub-systems in an environment and continually adapting to the contingencies posed to it. Certain activities have to be performed, but the persons who interact to perform these activities can change through time. There is nothing to prohibit a member of one action set from being a member of others. Such is the case with men in their multiple roles of wage earner, father, grandfather, uncle, son, lover, husband. This is not a study of an isolated group of men on the street corner . Nor is this a traditional "West Indian household study." It is a study of men, and the groups they form with women, who play out the drama of their lives in a complex multi -dimensional context. In identifying and defining the structure, function and processural adjustment of Creole social organization in its attempts to maintain an on— going equilibrium, I hope to avoid placing a_ priori models glibly on inadequate data but, accepting instead the suggestions of Arensberg and Kimball in their discussion of the natural history method, to inductively construct a model more reflective of the processes at hand. Each community contains its basic minimum of personnel, individuals who in their activities and relationships engage with others in events in which it is possible to discern the order of action, and hence the structure of the system of habitual relationships. Further, it is possible to ascertain the functions that activities and relationships possess, both in their contributory sense to the welfare of the group

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14 and in the extent to which modification of one aspect affects another. Finally, space and time are socially structured through the distribution and activity of personnel in their events. These variables, in their specific qualities and in their relationships to each other, constitute the external conditions that give each community its particular characteristics. But we must recognize that each such system is susceptible to external conditions that flow from other communities, and from larger society of which it is a part, possibly from other societies, and even from the physical environment. (1965: 32S) Methodology The main techniques used in gathering data were those of participant-observation and in-depth interviews of friends, acquaintances and informants. The fieldwork lasted 22 months. Data were also retrieved from newspapers, independent publications, radio and television announcements, government and private offices, and archives. Approximately seventy-five percent of the research time was spent in Paramaribo, while twenty-five percent was devoted to the rural Creole districts of Para and Coronie. The study involved the learning of two languages . The city dialect of Sranan Tongo (variously called taki-taki or Neger Engles , a creole language with identifiably English grammar and English, Dutch, African, Portuguese, and French lexicon) was the main research tool. Except when speaking with the educated and upper classes (though there were exceptions) all verbal information retrival was in Sranan Tongo . We spoke the language not only because people preferred it, but also because it presented a cognitive per-

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15 ception of the Creole universe, complete with sanctions, shades of meaning, and feelings that one would be unable to comprehend through the use of Dutch. The Dutch language was a passive research tool, and we used it for reading and listening. All written material in Suriname, aside from some poetry, is in Dutch. Radio broadcasts vary; Jhinkoe-Rai-Akkal (1972:11) noted that in the course of one day she heard the following languages spoken on radio channels in Paramaribo: Dutch, Hindi, Urdi, Sranan . Tongo , Javanese, Chinese, two Bush Negro dialects (of the Creole language), English, and French. Stations operated by Hindustanis broadcast mostly in Hindi and Dutch, while Creole stations replace Hindi with Sranan Tongo . Television is almost exclusively in Dutch (except for American movies), while the language used in public meetings, addresses, and forums varies with the situation and the audience. For a study of Creole Paramaribo a functional knowledge of Sranan Tongo and a passive knowledge of Dutch is minimal preparation. If the middle and upper classes are the object of study, a functional knowledge of Dutch and passive appreciation of Sranan Tongo would be required. I will not here go into the complex inter-relationship between Dutch and Sranan Tongo for the Creole. The ethnography in the following chapters should point out certain regularities and patterns of language use. Suffice it to say that almost all the people with whom we spent our time and with whom we interacted daily preferred Sranan Tongo

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16 to Dutch. We arrived in Paramaribo without an exact research site in mind. We asked questions, listened, walked the streets, and searched for a suitable Creole Â’'neighborhood." Although there is little ethnic and class residential segregation in Paramaribo, you know a Creole neighborhood when you are in one . Two choices emerged: Frimangron (Free manÂ’s ground) and Land vun Dijk . The former was chosen for two reasons. It had a historical tradition extending to well before Emancipation and it was a more heterogenous neighborhood in terms of resident ethnic groups and occupational and status distinctions. Since I wanted to investigate various inter-ethnic points of articulation, and because I feel one cannot adequately study "lower class" behavior discarding upward mobility, comparison with more well to do folks and inter-connections between status groups, a more heterogeneous conglomerate was selected . We moved into the neighborhood to a house that would neither scandalize upper status visitors with its shabbiness nor deter lower class people from dropping in by its opulence. We settled in and our lives became tied to the rhythm of our birti soema (neighbors).^ Plural Society Surinamese society is quite complex, all its students describing it as "culturally plural."^ By the end of 1971, Suriname had a total population of 3^4,903 . Of this total t

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17 were counted 113,500 Creoles, 142,300 Hindustanis, 53,900 Indonesians, 6,400 Chinese, 10,200 Amerindians, 4,000 Europeans, 39,500 Bush Negroes (all tribes), and 5,100 "others." Of this total population, 175,600 people, or 45*6 percent, lived in or around the capital city of Paramaribo, while 102,300 resided within the borders of the city. The distribution of the ethnic groups throughout the country varies. A breakdown of the ethnic groups resident in Paramaribo in 1965 revealed that the city contained 67,544 Creoles, 25,437 Hindustanis, 7,963 Indonesians, 3,369 Chinese, 2,197 Europeans, 663 Bush Negroes, and 1,741 "unknowns." (Hoogharts, 1973 • 10) Paramaribo is a Creole city surrounded by an Asian hinterland. Migration to the Netherlands figures heavily in the demography of Suriname. Aside from sheer numbers it is reflective of a good deal more. At this moment there are approximately 60,000 Surinamers resident in Holland (Bovenkerk, 1973: 1). A yearly increase in the number of migrants is characteristic of the post-1962 period. The number of Creole migrants rose from 76 I in 1964 to 4,524 per year in 1970. The Hindustanis registered an increase of 153 to 1,694 in the same period, while the Indonesians increase went from 36 to 212. In evaluating these figures, Lamur points out that "It is not surprising that the Creoles were in the majority; they are the most Westernized and the most urbanized of the three groups, and they suffer the highest rate of unemployment." (1973: I 3 I-I 32 )

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Suriname's population is growing quickly. For the post1962 period a growth rate of 29.6 per 1000 was a function of a fertility figure of 41.7 per .1000, a mortality fiture of 7*7, with 5.0 for immigration, and 10.5 for emigration. (Lamur, 1973s 140). The mean yearly growth of the population by ethnic group per 1000 inhabitants breaks down as follows for the three major groups in the 1962-1970 period: Creole, 17*0; Hindustani, 37*6; and Indonesians, 27.6, (Lamur, 1973s 145). The decline in figures for the Creoles is a function not only of a lower rate of natural increase, but of emigration as well. 10 The processual adjustment of each ethnic group to the other, the points of interface and articulation leading to competition, accommodation, or hostility, and the formulation of a whole society as a plural system reflect the traits and characteristics set forth by M. G. Smith (1965: SS-S9) and Despres (1967s 21-29). Occupational competition and specialization often illuminate social process and may indicate points of contact or exclusion between ethnic groups. Lamur offers a table indicating the working population by occupational category, ethnic group, and sex per 1000 inhabitants as of 1964. Traditionally, trained positions involving higher education and specialized training have been the realm of the Creole. 11 With the increasing integration of the Hindustanis into national society, especially through education, this is rapidly changing. Nonetheless, the government

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19 TABLE I WORKING POPULATION BY OCCUPATIONAL CATEGORY ETHNIC GROUP AND SEX Occupation Creole Hindustani Indonesian M F M F M F Scientific, Managerial, Administrative 24.2 43.7 10.0 5.3 5.3 5.9 Business and Insurance 3.1 6.4 3.4 14.3 2.3 12.3 Agriculture, Cattle, and Fishing 7.3 3-7 3 8.5 60.3 39.5 50.4 Mining, Industry, and Transportation 56.1 IS . 3 33. 5 5.2 47.3 11.3 Service 1.7 1.1 1.5 1.7 1.1 1.2 Lamur, 1973: 162

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20 bureaucracy, the largest employer in Suriname, employs more Creoles than any other group and proportionally more Creoles work for the government civil service than in any other occupation. It is within this complex that this ethnography of lower class Creoles is set. I shall avoid any direct reference to the other ethnic groups in Suriname, except in cases where their presence, behavior, or ideology directly affects the point under immediate consideration. This constraint is inauthentic, but I see no other way to adequately deal with the subject I have chosen.

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21 NOTES: CHAPTER I „^ ee Tor example Lowenthal and Comitas ( eds . ) Consequences o£ c i-a . ss Colo ^ > !973; Eric Williams, 1970; M .' G. Smith, 1965; van Lier, 1971; and Cohen and Greene, 1973. 2. See Clarke (1957), Solien Gonzalez ( 1969 ), Herskovits and Herskovits (1936), R. T. Smith (1956), Otterbein (1965), kl. G. Smith (19o2), Greenfield (1966), for examples of studies which make reference to males but offer little in the way of documentation. 3. Studies dealing entirely or in part with black males include Liebow ( 1967 ), Keiser ( 1969 ) , Hannertz ( 1969 ), Whitten (1965), Wilson (1973), Abrahams (1970), and Manning \ f 973 ) • I chose to use the Dutch word winkel (the Sranan Tongo word wenkri would be equally suitable) as it is more appropriate than pub, shop, bar, or tavern. The distinction can be made because of material reasons (sizs, location, interior arrangement, items sold, etc.) as well as social (activities that take place there). 5* For a quick review of some of the relevant literature see the Introduction by M. G. Smith in Clarke (1957), Chapter A in Hannertz (1969), and the Introduction in Whitten and Szwed (1970). Actually, most monographs on the Caribbean contain lengthy reviews on the various approaches to the study of the "West Indian Family." 6 . Two other students have made studies of lower class Creole family and kinship in Paramaribo. Buschkens (1973) defines lower class Creoles ( volkcreolen) as follows: They provide for their livelihood through manual labor. They have no schooling past the elementary grade. They usually speak Sranan Tongo (rather than Dutch) at home . They live in houses wherein not everyone has their own home . The income of the volkcreole does not exceed Sf 300 per month. (About $170. The currency unit in Suriname is the Suriname Florin, abbreviated Sf. It is also referred to as the Suriname Guilder or, simply, Guilder. One Suriname Florin (Sf 1.00) is worth approximately 57 U.S. dollar cents ($.57). All textual references to money will be stated in Suriname Florins.) The volkcreole is baptized by either a minister of the Moravian church or a priest of the Catholic Church. Pierce (1970) identified his sample as "Afro-Americans" (including only nengre and not mulatta) and cited their characteristics thus:

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22 High incidence of female-headed households. High incidence of non-legal consensual unions. High incidence of conjugal instability. Central positions of females in co— residential and domestic groups. Frequent inclusion in household of consanguineals other than children. Sprinkled throughout his text are other clues to the identity of the people Pierce is talking about. They are for the most, part descendants of slaves, are predominantly Negroid, occupy low status and income positions, and have high unemployment accompanied by low education. Neither of these two definitions is terribly dynamic. 7. See for example Young and Willmott (1957), and the cross cultural comparisons attempted by Solien Gonzalez (1969) and R. T. Smith (1956). S. Certain authors have had a powerful effect on my thinking. Arensberg and Kimball ( 1965 ) introduced me to the comprehensive superiority of the natural history method. Liebow ( 1967 ) demonstrated what it is to be an ethnographer in a small scale setting. R. T. Smith (1956 and 1963) brought into relief the concept of structural time. Valentine (196S) cut through a good deal of the confusion surrounding the culture of poverty. Mitchell (1969) firmed up a lot of spongey cliches and fluffly thinking about networks. Whitten in his monograph ( 1965 ) and later in a piece co-authored with Szwed (1970) illuminated the processes of short term gain, adaptations and shifting boundaries. 9. See for example van Lier (1971), Den Hollander et al. (1966), and Lamur (1973) for important references. 10. The mean yearly growth in percentile form, with all factors including emigration taken into account, would be 2 . 96 $ . 11. See Sedoc-Dahlberg (1971) and van Lier (1971) on the colonial elite.

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CHAPTER II THE NEIGHBORHOOD IN SPACE AND TIME Setting Paramaribo. . . has half a dozen modern buildings of which any European city might be proud. But these buildings suggesting the metropolis are incongruous in the heat and dust and afternoon stillness. . . . for Paramaribo is provincial. (Naipaul, 1962: IS3 ) Fort Zeelandia lies ten kilometers inland on the Suriname river. In days gone by it protected Paramaribo on the Wilde Kust (wild coast) against the incursions of the French, English, and Spanish.^ Until a very few years ago the post served as a civil prison, when it was renovated and converted into a national museum, each of its solid bunkers of stone block and great timbers at once housing the cultural memorabilia of each ethnic group in Suriname and separating them from each other. Artifacts retrieved from Amerindian groups deep in the bush are located on the second floor. Drums, beads, and ritual paraphernalia and photographs attesting to past days of proud autonomy are located in the "Bush Negro" chamber at the end of the corridor. The Hindustanis, brought in as contract laborers in the 19 th and 20th centuries, are represented here too. The Javanese, also imported as laborers to bolster the flagging plantation economy of post-emancipation days, find representation in this place of national symbol and sentiment through the faded photographs — photo23

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24 graphs not so much of them as of the grounds on which they worked. This should come as no surprise, for as Eric Williams has said (1970), the story of the Caribbean can be told in terms of the degradation of its laborers. Looking carefully one also can find relics of the Chinese, Lebanese, Syrians, and others. The most extensive exhibits lodged in the most spacious rooms are those of the Creole and the colonial European. Perhaps the two should be located in one vast chamber, for through time they have become intimately intertwined. Two groups, the African and the European, thrown together by the economic and political forces of days no one can remember, but Surinamese custom dictates they be separated. Outside the old fortress Dutch military police raise the tricolor of the Netherlands, a symbol of Holland's presence in the New World. 2 Beyond the perimeter of the officers' quarters that "the fortress, two boulevards stretch out at right angles. Within this 90— degree arc lies Paramaribo, baka ^ 0u ° (behind the fort) as it is called by the native inhabitants . One of these boulevards, the Gravenstraat ( -straat is street), stretches out from the fort as far as the eye can see, to the city boundary and the Hindustani paddies beyond. Built on a mound of shells it is the oldest street in the city. The first graveyards of Paramaribo were located along this thoroughfare. The street originates outside the fortress

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25 FIGURE ONE MAP OF SURINAME Source: Dahlberg, H. N. n.d.

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26 gates, forming the northern border of the parade grounds. Squarely in the middle of the green vastness stands a statue of Queen Wilhelmina. Opposite and across the street sits the proud, sumptuous white stone mansion of the governor of Suriname. Hedges and flowers surround the driveway which runs to the foyer and past the open veranda, ending near the old palm gardens. Sentries posted at the entrance and exit usher guests and dignitaries to and from the Queen's representative in Suriname. Almost all the formal, administrative machinery of Suriname is visible from the mansion's veranda. Ministries line the parade grounds, each with the bust of an honored servant before it. The parliament building, built on the foundations of the old Dutch West India Company, lies further up the Gravenstraat . Lesser sub-offices housing clerks, secretaries, janitors, chauffeurs and concerned citizens spill over into the tree— lined side streets. Further on is the Roman Catholic cathedral, the largest wooden church in the New World. Across the street is the rectory, another wooden structure. A Dutch priest in white frock and occasionally sporting a pith helmet stands on the balcony surveying the bustling city beneath him. This is possible from a third-story balcony; Paramaribo is a twoand three-story city. The Suriname Bank is next to the church. It is a modern building midst the white wooden structures with their red brick foundations, green shutters, and red corrogated

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27 tin roofs. The Central Archives, housing material only from the 1340' s (papers from earlier days are in Holland) is here too. Until the second World War secondary education could be sought only on this street. Miscellaneous buildings such as the water, gas, and electric utilities offices, the telephone and telegraph offices, and the post office are located here abouts as well. Life can be orchestrated from the environs old Paramaribo." Paramaribo, with its ministry— lined boulevards radiating from the central plain, could be considered a "Baroque" city. (Mumford, 193 d) Shops, gas stations, offices, and private homes appear beyond the bank, some five hundred meters from the governor's mansion. Gravenstraat is a fine, clean, attractive street; from the sidewalk no hovels meet the eye. As with all buildings on the streetfront in the inner city, they are of wood, two-storied, with balconies overhanging the street. The people on the balconies sitting in bent wood rocking chairs behind awnings and potted plants are usually light skinned, either Dutch or mulattos. The black faces are on the sidewalk below. Their labors are lightened by the shade of tall cottonwood trees ( kankant rie ) that, since there was a Paramaribo, rise up from the pavement. The other boulevard, the Waterkant (Water Side), parallels the Suriname River and in an unfaltering straight line forms the other perpendicular of the arc. This street too originates from the fort and forms the riverside boundary of the parade grounds. The Park Club where the elite meet for

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28 dinner, drinks, and cards to discuss the future of themselves and perhaps that of the country, lies securely in the shadow of the old fort. One battery of aged cannons has its sights trained squarely on the dance floor. A view from the river would show a long facade of charming twoand three-story colonial homes lining the Waterkant from the fortress up the street to the old weighing house. Each building is distinctive; some with columns, some balconies, masonry stoops, great shuttered windows, and all with their red, green, and white ensembles. Paramaribo is a wooden city. These are the he renhuisen (gentlemen's houses), the prized high status dwellings from the days of sugar, indigo, coffee, tobacco, and cotton. Although some are still private dwellings of the very rich, many have been converted to offices for companies or the government.-^ The homes lie close together, separated only by small alleys. A glance down one of these alleys reveals another world, a teeming arena where another style of life is played out. This is the backyard or ba ka djari. Although a geographical entity bounded by the fences of the high born, it is an integral social building-block for the urban Creole. The back yard houses, the slave barracks, and quarters of yesterday, one-and two -room cottages of grey weathered board, house the uneducated and unemployed. Outdoor brick ovens and wells now decaying in disuse, sprinkle the yards that are swept clean of every blade of grass. The dry, brown turf stands m sharp contrast to the greenery of the herenhuis . The

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29 number of trees in the back yard is surprising, for from the streets the city seems almost devoid of foliage. Looking skyward, ohe back yard sends palms and fruit trees upward. The tree is precious to these people, as life is played out in its shade and, recapitulated through the generations, its fruits provide nourishment and supplementary income, and under the boughs of certain species roam the indulgent, mischievous or malevolent spirits of ancestors or other creatures of the supernatural. A vital piece of one's "soul" always remains in the yard where he or she was born. All the sexes and generations of the Creoles are found under these trees. Babies are cradled in the arms of their grandmothers while mothers wash clothes in large iron tubs. Young boys frolic in the dust kicking cans and tormenting lizards while girls furiously clean house attacking the endless chore of sweeping dust from inside the house to the yard. Teenagers, dressed in their European finery, connive for a guilder or two, and with their portable radios rush fot£ _se (city side) to engage in the excitement of the day. Adult men return from work or their favorite bar to take the main afternoon meal. They will probably go to sleep afterwards, as Paramaribo shuts its doors to the public from two until four o'clock in the afternoon. All women wear something on their heads. Young girls wrap a tight fitting bandana or casually tied scarf around their plaited hair. Young women, now enamored of the fashions of America, wear loosely woven woolen caps, while older women wear the tradi—

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30 tional anisa, a stiffly -starched, intricately tied head dress with each color and fold a statement on the wearer's disposition of the moment. (Herskovits and Herskovits, 1936 : part I) The settlement pattern, of herenhuis on the street front and old slave quarters in the back yard, has been replicated throughout Creole sectors of the city. Reshaped and in new forms, it is still identifiable in its structure and use of space and time. It will be dealt with at length later, along with the people who play out their lives in its parameters. Further up the street past the old weighing house lies the harbor. It is not much by Caribbean standards. One lone dock juts into the river, to unload goods from European vessels. A new harbor was built in the 1960's and lies easily within eyeshot, perhaps one and a half miles up river. This new harbor does not concern us, however, as the inhabitants do not consider it part of the city. The ferry separates the fine old houses and the harbor from the small scale business district. Suriname has in the past few years built up its road network, but ferries provide the links spanning the numerous rivers. Two large ferries capable of carrying cars, trucks, motorbikes, and hordes of people and their goods ply the wide Suriname river from dawn until midnight. The traffic is endless, reaching its peak on weekends when Javanese laborers from the sugar plantations and Hindustani rice farmers on the other side of the river come to town to buy. Paramaribo is totally dependent on the

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31 outside world, and Surinamers (except certain Amerindian groups) are all in some degree dependent on Paramaribo. The cityÂ’s function is to provide mercantile, legal, medical, administrative, educational, communicative, and other services. Paramaribo is a dispensary. Paramaribo is the only city in Suriname. Beyond the ferry lies the central market. Here the tempo of life takes on a new pitch. The white shirts and ties of the bureaucrats are infrequently seen now as swarms of women in gaily colored print dresses splotched with great flower blossoms, broad stripes, and bright plaids busy themselves provisioning their tables with salt meat, fish, vegetables, and rice. The roar of activity is at first deafening as bargaining, higgling, and gossiping women cluster together, their bobbin g anisas marking the cadence of the conversation. The measured tones of Dutch are not heard here. Legs spread and strong hands akimbo on broad hips, they discuss matters of the day. These include more than the latest sexual misadventures of a common friend. Although they savour such a story and recount it with relish, they can shift swiftly to a discussion of national politics and cite from memory the personalities that play out these roles. Paramaribo is small, and after one or two geneological citations one can easily identify at least the family of the victim under discussion. A political official, for all his pomp and dignity, finds his humanity in the market place; here he is an equal and no longer sacred. (During the

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Source: FIGURE TWO MAP OF PARAMARIBO “Research area Frimangron VACO, n.d.

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33

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34 celebration of the Queen Mother's birthday, the governor himself comes to the market and dances after the market women have paraded past his house bearing flowers.) Reminiscences from days gone by are recalled when present members of parliament were mere children splashing naked in the gutters along the streets. Today, their scandals and corruption are discussed in the same vein. Many an aspiring politician has foundered by not currying the favor of the Creole moes ja (respected older woman). Lampoon and ridicule deftly wielded today as yesterday has set many a Holland— educat ed hopeful to running. Familiarity may breed contempt but it also fosters a consistent attitude to overlook fault and foible if the guilty party behaves with respect and good manners. A sort of provicial morality" (Gans, 1962) is at work here. Corruption well may be written off as boldness, precociousness, or self-interest; traits shared or at least appreciated by many. The market, today with a more Hindustani complexion than Creole, is a large concrete and iron quonset hut on the site of the old, open riverside market. The bottom floor is laden with tropical fruits and vegetables of all types. Creoles sell most of the ground crops (cassava, peanuts, etc.), Hindustanis and Javanese the fruits and leafy greens. Upstairs, imported foods (potatoes and onions), spices, canned goods, and dry goods are sold. Specialists selling ritual paraphernalia and obias sit at stalls beside basket

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35 makers and women dispensing fruit drinks. Surinamers are careful here; careful because of their •fear of strangers and also of the young boys who steal purses and carefully concealed caches of money which women hide in knotted handkerchieves under their brassieres. Behind the main market are more vegetable stands and the fish and poultry market. Creole women still seem to monopolize the fish trade as they hawk crab and other manner of fish. Many of these women fish themselves or are supplied by family members. Here is a repository of tradition and lore found no where else in Paramaribo. To confirm a story, a piece of hearsay, or learn the preparation of a supernatural potion, one comes to baka wowoy.io (behind the market) and seeks out a trusted elder. One is always cautious and casts a careful eye on all passersby. The stranger is mistrusted; a glance that lingers can mean only trouble. They seek your money through swindle, false friendship, or theft; or worse, they seek to learn your fancies and weaknesses and through this knowledge manufacture a curse to control or exploit you and yours. The market provisions Paramaribo and its suburbs and so sets a tempo for the flow of human traffic in and out of the city. Buses line the streets, each to cart off a load of people and their goods to a different neighborhood. These '’wild 1 ' buses, usually a VW bus with a fifteen person capacity that is always exceeded, are owned by Hindustanis, a fact causing no end of anger and indignation for the Creoles

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36 totally dependent on them. The Waterkant intersects two other avenues and continues on its way, now renamed the Saramaccastraat after the tribe of Saramaka Bush Negro who used to reside in its lodges and flophouses on their periodic trips to town in the old days. The buildings take on a dingy cast, although they are still the wooden two-story structures of downtown. Anything can be ; bought on Saramaccastraat. The Chinese and Lebanese merchants see to that. Store fronts overflow into the street with bins of corks, cloth, rope, lanterns, machetes, shovels, candies, hammocks, and electric appliances. The small shops ( winkels ) that line the Saramaccastraat and appear everywhere else in downtown Paramaribo service not only the material but the physical as well. Men cluster here and drink beer, rum, and whiskey at makeshift wooden bars in the corner amidst dusty buckets, lines of hemp, and bicycle tires hung from the ceiling. Women returning from the market, the shoe stores, and clothiers stop in for a beer or soft drink and bread. Women are not excluded from these winkel bars, but they play a very restricted role in order to avoid trouble. In the wi nkel languages are a babel. Clusters of Bush Negros speak their tribal dialects, while an occasional Amerindian calls out to his wife walking a few paces behind. Chinese voices count the dayÂ’s profits on their abacuses, midst the Hindustani and Javanese that punctuate the din. Creoles talk amongst themselves in Sranan Tongo. Conversa-

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Source: FIGURE THREE PARAMARIBO — A FEW TYPICAL STREET PROFILES Volders, J. L., 1966

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=7 *s tO^C^louvtr {tij Uxg. K>a^yWj^ N "Lf town* &bCm]'6nuub%OJJuo [ (k^0jOX~

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39 tions across ethnic b oun d ar i es> which are few, take place in this language as well. Meanwhile Dutch pours from the radio and peers up from the crumpled newspapers on the floor. The Sarama c cast raat continues on in such a fashion for another 500 meters. Restaurants, more for take-out food than sit-down meals, are situated among the drinking bars. Many of the winkels would be in poor financial straits were it not for the sale of liquor to men. Behind the facade of the winkels and buildings on the riverside of the street lies the waterfront proper. Shipyards, drydocks, repair shops, construction companies, carpentry shops, heavy machine storage, timber depots and the like line the river bank. Open gutters spilling refuse into the river mingle trash with the oil and machine residue. The muddy ground gives way underfoot. The stench and byproducts of everything mechanical fortunately do not spill over onto the Saramaccastraat which remains surprisingly clean and well kept for such a heavily trafficked artery. Until the 1950's a railroad from the gold and rubber ( balatta ) fields deep in the interior ran into Paramaribo along this main street. Today the line exists only in diminished form, its jungle end shortened by an artificial lake formed by a dam in the 1960's and its city— side trunk cut short thirty kilometers outside the city in the village of Onverwacht. People remember the days when the old steam engine would chug into town along the hardpacked dirt streets. Up past the central market it would go, by crowds of women

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40 and children waving on the street corners, to deposit the men all laden with new wealth on the Heiligeweg near the ferry. Today, this once happy terminus is the terminal for the government bus lines. Nor are there open gutters anymore that line the streets traversed via an outstretched plank. The downtown streets are paved too. All this since the late 1950's. The terminus of Saramaccastraat is a stone bridge that spans the Drambrandersgracht ( -gracht is a drainage ditch). Beyond this point lives the bulk of the Creole population in urban neighborhoods. Over the bridge the pace of life is slower, taking on an almost rural cast within the formal city borders of Paramaribo. Downtown Paramaribo, the inner city, stops at Drambrandersgracht . The people who live behind the Drambrandersgracht call it foto se (city side), although most Creoles could never arrive at a mutual accord as to exactly where foto se begins or ends. Until emancipation most Creole slaves lived either on the plantations along the rivers or in this downtown area of the city. A very important portion of the pre-emancipation Creole population did not live here. They were the free men and are discussed later. Today this downtown area houses almost all the service and distributive agencies in Suriname. Large companies such as Bruynzeel (wood), the Suriname-American Aluminum Company, the Wageningen rice cooperative, and the "Industrial Park," are located outside of Paramaribo; but these are all recent

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41 innovations, overlays that came in the immediate past. Virtually everything else is located with the broad arc bounded by the two boulevards: government offices, secondary schools (for most of the country), the university C (for medicine and law), banks, foreign consulates, restaurants, shops, tailors, department stores, butchers, book stores, pharmacies, labor union halls, churches, political party headquarters, courts, police stations, lawyers' offices, newspaper publishers. All the formal organs necessary to organize and maintain a nation state are here. Creoles like Paramaribo. Although most comfortable in the security and friendship of their own neighborhood ( birt i ) , they enjoy downtown. Certain places invoke living memories of days gone by, when a car accident occurred on this corner, a ship sunk there, a women became possessed by a certain spirit under that tree, a bridge was guarded by night by certain supernatural creatures. A mythology has grown up around most parts and buildings of the city, that ties sentiment to points in space. Before the Second World War, citizens would often commemorate an event with a specially created proverb or poem and special anisa . (Herskovits and Herskovits, 1936: part I). Street names have been informally changed from the cumbersome Dutch to the more manageable and meaningful Sranan Tongo . The unwieldy Doktor Sophie Redmondstraat became ondro bom (under the tree, for the large trees that once lined the avenue); likewise Pad van Wanica (the Wanica

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FIGURE FOUR A FEW CATEGORIES OF LAND USE ncamjs Dense Clusters of Businesses * Single enterprise ( winkel ) Research area ( Frimangron ) Studiegroup "Paramaribo." 1969* Source:

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43

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44 road) is also Para passie (the footpass to the District Para). The personalization of Paramaribo stretched even into the baka d jari . A known occurrence or famous personage, a singer or story teller, a magician or sorcerer, or perhaps just somebody with a unique characteristic drew forth a reference that everybody could identify. Popki-djari (yard of the dolls), Para-d jari (Para yard), froit iman-d jari (whistling man yard), lanti-d jari (government yard), and others elicited considerably more enthusiasm than the austere formality of the Dutch appellations. Street corners and special areas carried not the name Ladesmastraat , but rather tingi-oekoe (stinky corner) and wint i-oekoe (wind or spirit corner) . The corner of Gemenelandsweg and Zwartenhovenbrugstraat became spoendoro , referring back to the days when the old steam engine bringing back the miners would make its first stop at this spot. If certain places are loved then certain places are feared. The amandra (almond) trees lining the Waterkant must be avoided at 12 noon and 11 o'clock at night for it is then that the bakroes (short manlike, malevolent creatures, half wood and half flesh) lurk beneath them.^ And the church on the Wanicastraat should be avoided at night, for years ago an unsolved murder took place there, and most people will tell you the suspect was not human. Drainage ditches and gutters cross-cut Paramaribo. Once they drained the plantation flat lands surrounding the city. Now most of the broad gutters are filled and covered, some converted into attractive, tree-lined malls. Others

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45 still carry filth in open ditches through the city to the river. These gutters and ditches serve as boundaries with some residential areas today carrying the name of the gutter that runs close by it . Before World War II and their subsequent filling in, these networks of water control were spanned by arched stone bridges, and the passage to the other side of the arch was a clear statement that another area of the city was being entered. A look at Figure Five will show one such gutter. Called the Drambrandersgracht , it is filled in except for a short piece beginning about 150 meters from the river bank. An old sluice gate with great pulleys and sliding iron door stands sentinel on the sludge that frequently accumulates . Drambrandersgracht is a very real border; officialdom considers it one of the boundaries of wijk F (a neighborhood division used at the Bureau of Deeds) and so notes it in all the great books of the state. Political parties know the people beyond Drambrandersgracht share a common tradition and sentiment and have located two or three party cells there for recruitment and propaganda purposes (R. BranaShute: in process) . ^ The folk, however, know best of all what it means to live behind Drambrandersgracht. It means to live in an almost rural neighborhood within the urban conglomerate, a neighborhood where sentiments and social relationships forged under slavery — and before — still live in many forms. Above all, it means to live in the place

PAGE 56

46 oftlurii *»«t 8 Jchvn/e be.siaA.h4. gt berioAhie A-fjluii »i it sc hoi -f FIGURE FIVE TRADITIONAL CITY DRAINAGE GUTTERS

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47 most Creoles know as Frimangron (FreemanÂ’s Ground). History of Frimangron Although Frimangron *s physical growth and change over time can be charted, precious little is recorded of the people who have lived there. What follows, then, is a bare sketch of what seems to be known of Suriname's freecolored and free-black population since the late lSth century and of the trends in Creole history from which, at this point, the neighborhood history must be surmised. In the early 1770's external and internal problems assumed critical proportions in the colony of Suriname. A financial crisis in Amsterdam caused investment to be withdrawn from the plantation economy. Production fell off as many planters moved to Holland (van Lier, 1971: 41-42; Quintus Bosz, n.d. : 14-15; and Hoetink, 1973). Slave revolt, the nightmare of every European colonist in the Caribbean, was an unusually pronounced phenomenon in Suriname. By the 1770 's the number of Bush Negros (maroons, or runaway slaves) had swollen to six or seven thousand and their increasing incursions into the plantation areas along the coast had become especially dangerous and destructive (van Lier, 1971: 5$). Attempts to quell the attackers, with European mercenaries imported to supplement the local burger militia, proved inadequate. ^ In 1770, one hundred and fifty free-born blacks and mulattos were called upon to take up arms and fight against the Bush Negros. This group was called the Korps Vri.j Negers

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(Corps of Free Negros) and fought along side the militia and the mercenaries. This measure, however, also proved insufficient . By 1772 the government began to purchase reliable, strong slaves from plantation owners. These men, together with trusted government slaves, formed the Zwarte Jagors (Black Rangers), better known as the Redi Moesoe (Red Hats) from the red caps they wore. Initially 300 strong, they were promised manumission and a plot of ground near the city if they would faithfully assist in fighting the Bush *7 Negros. It was in the area beyond Drambrandersgracht that the retired, and free, redi moesoe received their payment in land. Old maps drawn before the 1770 Â’s show the area beyond Drambrandersgracht to have been communal grazing land without subdivision or individual parcels . * Authors of that period tell of city-dwelling planters sending young boys out beyond Drambrandersgracht to tend cows. This commons land extended to the Limesgracht, the border between the city and the grounds owned by Mr. Limes, a planter of the time.^ The Zwartenhovenbrugstraat, fronting the river, formed a third side, while the square enclosure was completed by government land and private estates along the Wanicastraat . At this time there was no organized settlement within the area. A map, drawn by Lieftinck in the year of the formation of the Re d! Moesoe , indicates the first organization and land division of the area between Drambrandersgracht and Limesgracht (see Figure Six, Algemeen Rijksarchief ) . With

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FIGURE SIX FIRST SUBDIVISIONS OF FRIMANGRON , 1772 Source: Algemeen Rijksarchief

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50

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51 three exceptions the streets bore the names they have today. De Grote Dwars Straat has become Waaldi jkstraat ; Makkastraat no longer exists; and Beterwonenstraat has since been cut through the middle of the block bounded by Nepveustraat , Rust en Vrede Straat, P o nt ewe rf straat , and Steenbakkersgracht . Steenbakkersgracht was incorrectly labeled by the cartographer and should have read Drambrandersgracht . Beterwonenstraat Wa " l a ll i n 1948, aoop an old Moravian graveyard, as part of an urban renewal housing project. After 1770 this area between Drambrandersgracht, Zwart enhovenbrugstraat , Wanicastraat and Limesgracht was labeled the Vrije Colonie (Free Colony) or Fri man S ro n in Sranan Tongo . Figure Seven, a map by Hiemcke (Archives of the Suriname Museum) clearly shows the expansion of the city past Drambrandersgracht, and the name of this area as the Vrije Colonie . The parcel divisions of. Frimangron shown on the map of 1772 must have proven ineffective, for in IS 37 a general government resolution (G. B., 1B 37 : No. 3 ) 10 called for the re-categorizing of all neighborhoods in Paramaribo, including the Vrije Co lonie (Fri mangron ) . The map of Hiemcke indicates six categories of land in Paramaribo: residential neighborhoods A, B, C, D, and the Vrije Colonie . and the Wei land (common land). The resolution of 1S 3 7 called for the creation of two more neighborhoods; one, Wijk F (neighborhood F) to correspond with the area bounded by: * *1 * on , the eas t, the Suriname river; on the north, the Drambrandersgracht; on the south, the Algemenelandsweg [the Gemenelandsweg of earlier mapsj; on the west, the Wanicastraat . (G. B., 16b7* No . 3 ) f y ' *

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FIGURE SEVEN POST 1772 EXPANSION OF FRIMANGRON (Vrye Colonie Free Colony) Source: Archives of the Suriname Museum

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54 Frimangron was no longer set apart as the Vri.je Colonie but was considered a legitimate neighborhood of the city. Government resolutions indicate that well before emancipation manumitted Creoles were responsible before the law. The proper upkeep of house, yard, and street was ordered. A resolution of l£2£ (G. B., 1S2B: No. 17) pointed out that an area of 15 feet out from the front of the house was to be kept clean and that garbage was to be properly eliminated. Stoops and balconies were not to obstruct traffic, and drainage trenches were to be dug and maintained. Footbridges were the responsibility of the parcel owner. Traditional Creole songfests that gathered together large groups of people ( does ) were forbidden within the city limits. Animals were not allowed to roam free and all houses had to be roofed with shingles. Regulations regarding the construction of outdoor ovens and kitchens were also promulgated. A resolution in the IS 33 proceedings (G. B., IS 33 : No. 14) stated that to insure the protection of the city from fire, all houses must be roofed with a non-conbustionable material. The houses on Rust en Vrede Straat received special citation in this resolution; the residents could use wooden shingles, perhaps a tacit recognition of their poverty. The map of Hiemcke shows the western border of Frimangron to be the Gemenelandsweg. A resolution of IB 50 (G. B., 1950: No. 19) called for the expansion and further subdivision of Frimangron past the Gemenelandsweg to the Limesgracht . Lots were being made available, each with an average area of about

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55 7, $00 square feet. These plots were leased at a rent. of 10 florins cents (5 cents U.S.) per 100 square feet per year. The formal organization of land tenure holding in Frimangron was altered for the last time in 1334. Until that year the numbering system of the lots or parcels in the neighborhood followed the provisions set down in the resolution of 1337. In the resolution of 1$$4 (G. B., 1$$4: No. 2) all plots and yards in Frimangron were assigned new numbers. It appears that the old system was expanded and new plots created; upwards of 460 plots are shown on the map of 1334. Relatively little is known of manumitted Creoles during the l$th and 19th centuries, and no mention within the lit era ture was found referring to the retired Redi Moesoe or to their descendents. At this juncture, the history of Fri mangron* s inhabitants becomes an undifferentiated part of of Surinamese Creole history. Whoever the Creoles were who lived in Frimangron , it seems their position was marginal at best. No large scale agriculture seems to have been practiced in this area. Van Lier (1973s 96-97) notes that it would have been difficult for them to sell their produce in any case, as most whites provisioned themselves from private vegetable gardens tended by slaves. Creoles in Frimangron seem to have planted their own vegetable gardens, while

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56 Some of the free Negros possessed fields or market gardens in the vicinity of Paramaribo, and in these they cultivated foodstuffs such as vegetables and bananas. They also kept fowls, which they sold in town. Their method of cultivation was not intensive, however, and they were anything but prosperous. But the large majority of the free Negros, as a considerable percentage of the Mulattos,' performed no regular work and enjoyed no regular income. (van Lier 1971: 114-115) Although they practiced agriculture, Creoles turned increasingly to wage labor and all its contingencies. Teenstra confirms that On small gardens or planting ground, outside Paramaribo, free blacks live here and there who now and then bring a few bananas, groundcrops, coconuts, fish, crab, etc., to the market in the city, and there exchange them for salt, tobacco, or pipes: Because the Negros are also greatly endeared to pipe tobacco; also the woywoy-mei den (market women) who sit daily smoking fcehind their wares at the vegetable and fish market. (1$42: 51-52) Thirty-six years later, little seems to have changed, for Horticulture as practiced by them provides virtually only enough for their own consumption of the most ordinary foodstuffs; in addition they occasionally try to earn extra money as wharf laborers or oarsmen on boats plying to the plantations. (Cited in van Lier 1971: 224) If at first the population of Frimangron remained stable and was replenished by the off-spring of its original inhabitants, it is doubtful that it remained so after emancipation. Creoles moving into town, mating, establishing residences and households, buying and selling property, inheriting property, and moving out of the city either temporarily or permanently in rhythm with economic cycles doubtless altered the complexion of Frimangron . At

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57 emancipation in 1363 the population of the city stood at 13,666; at the end of the state supervision period in 1371 the population rose to 22,191 with a large increase in the population of the suburbs as well. (Buschkens, 1973: 111 ) Buschkens (1973) points out that after emancipation in 1363 small scale agriculture was extensively carried out by Creoles living in the rural districts. The cultivation of cacao in the Saramaka district proved lucrative until 1395 when the small enterprises collapsed due to the ineffective control of plant diseases. What followed then was the "largest trek of Creoles to the city" in the history of Suriname. (Buschkens, 1973: 113) A series of migratory cycles took place over the following 50 years that periodically altered the composition of the urban population. The gold boom of the 1390 's and rubber exploitation in the early 1900 's syphoned off many male Creoles to the districts, only to have them return to the city with the collapse of the business after a few years (Buschkens, 1973: 115-116). Around 1903, there was a reversal of the urban drift pattern, as some Creoles returned to the land, only to have their numbers decrease in 1922 when they were attracted by the forestry industry. A crisis in the forestry industry and the general economic depression of the 1930 *s once again forced Creoles back to the land. Van Lier notes (1971: 234 ) that "in 1933 the Creole population engaged in small scale agriculture rose _L.rom 13,369 to 17,564; by 1940 this number had increased to

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52 26,325." The presence of American troops in Suriname during the Second World War and the demand for labor and creation of new facilities drew a large segment of the rural population back to Paramaribo into wage labor. One is left with the impression that Creole laborers exploited opportunities as they arose; most opportunities being of a short-term duration, and most laborers being male. It is interesting that land was always held in reserve and returned to in times of acute "marginality." This is still done widely today and will be discussed further in the section dealing with "survival strategies." Aside, however, from pointing out the growth of the total urban population, neither van Lier nor Buschkens contribute data directly on what is going on within Frimangron . One informant, born in Frimangron in 1222, synthesized the neighborhood's changes in this way: From IS 96 I remember no grazing or farming land in Frimangron . All yards were built up with houses . The yards were certainly larger in general than they are today — almost twice as big — and there were less houses built on each yard than today. The population is now four or five times larger. There were Negro and Mulatto families, Hindustanis didn’t come until much later. There were many more Negros than Mulattos then. But I remember no families whose descendents [sic] served in the Vriie Korps or Redi Moesoe . In those days big landowners didh T t live in Frimangron . I do remember that between Verlengde Gemenelandsweg / and Verlengde Molenpad a certain Mr. ... had a piece — a big piece — of land. Later, shortly after the Second World War, the old man Mr. ... bought a lot of yards, grounds, and houses and rented them out . At that time a lot more unskilled laborers and small farmers began moving into Frimangron . They worked mostly in the city and

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59 had their planting grounds along the Pad van Wanica (outside the city). There was no place for them to work in Frimangron. Frimangron has changed. Up until the 1950’s the main streets of the area were little more than one— lane dirt paths. Lining each side of the street, between it and the houses, were open drainage ditches and gutters overgrown with trees and bushes. Mostly people chose to walk in the open road, for although there were cleared paths through the bush along the gutters these were the feared Yorka (ancestral ghosts) paths, where ghosts and evil creatures (and thieves!) lingered in wait for their mortal victims. Electricity and running water came to Paramaribo late in the 1920's, but did not arrive in Frimangron until much later. Even today asphalt does not cover every street, nor water and electricity penetrate every back yard. Back yard barracks and cottages, some about to collapse from the weight of age, still house most of the people living in Frimangron . The residents of Frimangron are not all poor; in fact, some are deceptively well to do. Just who has money, where they get it, what they do with it, who they give it to, and the effect of these variables on the table of organization of the neighborhood, is the sociological point of departure for the following chapters. Almost all the houses on the street front are made of weathered wooden plank aged to a light grey. They are either two story or one story with a tiny attic. Houses in the back yards are not nearly so nice; many have only one wee room and

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60 a cooking area (see Figure Eight). A winkel stands on every corner of Frimangron, Most are owned by Chinese, some by Hindustanis, none by Creoles. The rest of the street is taken up by private homes, tailor shops, repair shops, fish and fruit vendors, take-out restaurants, elementary schools, a Catholic and a Moravian church, and other small scale businesses. All these shops are small, privately owned, and usually operated on a part-time basis (except the winkels ) . Frimangron is closely tied into downtown Paramaribo. Police patrol the streets and offenders and lawbreakers from murderers to men who have been delinquent in their child support payments are brought to the courts. Children attend the elementary schools located in the neighborhood, and are taught by teachers from other social classes and other parts of the city. A precious few follow their education through to the universities in Holland. The people make use of hospitals, clinics, and government welfare services. If a neighborhood extension of these national institutions is not located in the neighborhood, the main office is but ten minutes away by bus . Endless lines form daily in front of government offices downtown on the square. Resident Catholic and Protestant clergy are in the neighborhood and along with supplying financial and spiritual aid baptize, marry, confirm, and bury — all but confirming recorded civilly as well — the people of Frimangron . Women, in their occasional shopping tours in the larger 1

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FIGURE EIGHT Source: PARTIAL MAP OF NEIGHBORHOOD F — FRIMANGRON Centrale Bureau Luchtkartering, 19 & 5 •

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62 V

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63 stores of downtown and daily at the central market, must contend with the vissicitudes of the open market system. Money spent at the market is usually disbursed to Hindustani vendors, while money spent in the larger stores flows to upper class Hindustani, Lebanese, or Portuguese merchants « who control large scale retailing. The men who live in Frimangron provide the most important links with downtown. Everyday, if employed, they leave the neighborhood for their jobs. Unless self-employed, as a carpenter, auto mechanic, or flowerpot maker — few are — all men must leave the neighborhood to seek their livelihood. The women, children, and small scale merchants of the neighborhood are almost totally dependent on the wages with which these working men return. Frimangron is closely linked to Paramaribo at many levels and is in constant adaptation to the vissicitudes of larger society. For all the connections, however, there are boundary maintaining mechanisms that set the neighborhood apart; different behavior patterns taking place in the context of other forms of human groupings . About 6, $00 people live here (Algemeen Bureau voor de Statist iek, 1973: 16) 12 and although their social connections stretch into downtown they play out their lives in Frimangron (see Figure Nine) . The winkel is our focus of our attention here. Its function as a dispensary of necessities and as a meeting place structure much of the rhythm of daily and weekly time, and later influences what spins off a person's life cycle.

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FIGURE NINE POPULATION DENSITY OF PARAMARIBO 120 per square hectare 250 per square hectare 410 per square hectare 520 per square hectare Source: Studiegroup "Paramaribo" 1969.

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65

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66 NOTES: CHAPTER II 1. See Fontaine ( 1972) . 2. The only complete social history of Suriname is still that of van Lier (1971)* Older works are worthwhile: Ylier (iSSl), Wolbers (lS6l), Teenstra (1&42), and van Blankenstei jn (1923). 3. See Eerste Surinaamse Verzekeringsmaatschappi j "De Nationale" ( 1963 ) and Volders ( 1966 ) for photographs and sketches. The best work to date (with over 400 photographs) is by Temminck Ckoll and Tjin A Drie (1973)* 4. See Wooding (1973) for a discussion of bakrus (and the whole realm of magic). 5* See Sampson (1947) for a brief discussion. 6. For a discussion of Bush Negros in Suriname see R. Price (1972). For a discussion of "rebel slave communities in the Americas" see R. Price (ed.) (1973)* 7. Most of this material came from private discussions with Brother Abbenhuis and Mr. Andre Loor, both of Paramaribo. The literature is sketchy, but van Lier (1971), Ylier (lSSl), de Groot ( 1963 ), and Quintus Bosz ( 1964 ) provide clues. 5. Readers must refer to the archives of the Suriname •Museum. A recent publication should be helpful for historians refer to Dr. Ir. C. Koeman (ed.) (1973), a facsimile atlas with text, in English, Spanish, and Dutch. 9. Personal communication with Brother Abbenhuis, a historian and brother in the Catholic church. 10. G. B. is an abbreviation for Gouvernaments Bladen (Government Papers), which are statements of laws and resolutions promulgated by the colonial government. See the bibliography. 11. See Comvalius (1935). 12. This is a very rough estimate calculated by using the population of voting districts that overlap and comprise part(s) of Frimangron . There is no census of Frimangron .

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CHAPTER III THE WINKEL For male and female, young and old, all day and into the evening hours, the winkel is the point of aggregation and dispersal. They come to buy rice, oil, spices, canned goods, butter, batteries, boullion blocks, combs, perfume, toys, tea cups, ice, Chinese medicinals, fire crackers, and alcohol. One does not buy all the day's goods at one time; one or two items are always left wanting so that a person may have an excuse for coming back and looking in on this entertaining and important arena. It is the alcohol that ostensibly attracts the men. At any time from six in the morning to ten oÂ’clock at night, groups of men of varying dress, deportment and skin shade congregate here to drink whiskey, rum, beer and cognac. They sit at tables or lean on the glass cases; perhaps the winkel might even sport a small, sit-down bar. Women and children continually dart in and out, sometimes having a word with the men who for the first time are localized temporarily in a point in space. Women do not linger here; their respectability is at stake. Men, however, linger, and midst the story telling, drinking, fraternity, and disbursement of great quantities of money the realities of kinship, residence, mating, friendship and domesticity mesh. 67

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The winkel is in many ways a bridge; a waystation between the menÂ’s world of commercial downtown Paramaribo and the women's world of the household and neighborhood. It is downtown where the male fulfills his social role (or has it crushed) in the occupational hierarchy of business and government. Regularly or erratically when employed he interacts with and in this hierarchy for his wages and capital resources resources upon which the household-heading females are critically dependent. Evenings, leisuretime and unemployment find the male back in the neighborhood, spending his time in the winkel rather than the household. The dynamics of adult male social organization, the roles he is expected to play out, are almost centrifugal, spinning men out of the neighborhood and into the realm of salaries and wages. Women form their most resilient and intense ties with other females in the neighborhood, within kin-based households and with friends, neighbors, and club members.' The dynamics of adult female social organization are almost centripedal; relationships devolve in upon the household and upon other households in the neighborhood. Females invest and consolidate their social capital in confines that do not regularly penetrate the formal occupational structures of downtown. However, males and females are interdependent, and neither can exist without at least the partial services of the other. They do^, at various times, link up. Their worlds articulate and mesh as though spinning on two separate axes. The most frequent meshing point is the winkel . Adult

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69 males are present in households; they regularly sleep, eat, have sex, and have other services performed for them there. They visit women to disburse their funds. However, if one looks at the world of men, and the dynamics of lower class social organization above the household level — a sort of bird’s eye view of the neighborhood over time — the household is not the spatial nexus of male-female interaction, but rather the local winkel ; the cross roads of city and neighborhood. The winkel is an easily penetrated male sanctuary. For whatever purposes, women can locate and negotiate with men in this sedentary point in space. It will emerge in this chapter that men are not full-time long term participants in any one household but maintain varying and alternating relationships with many dispersed households, both affinal and consanguineal . This chapter will open with a description of a typical day in the winkel . Attention will be paid to the personnel, their movements over space and their use of time. It will largely be a discussion of the internal dynamics of the winkel , of men in a male world. Documentation of male behavior will be provided to support a fit or coupling between this chapter and the one that follows on the household and survival group — the realm of the adult women. Here we must deal with models and theory to grasp the nature of oscillating intra-neighborhood, inter-household organizational forms. The notion of quasi-group and action set (Mayer, 1966) bears on this question. Men not only form

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70 action sets with other men but also with clusters of women dispersed in different households. At any time any one of these men from his winkel headquarters has activated a series of relationships that satisfy his bio-social needs. This action set changes, however, as new circumstances and situations arise, and the male can draw new personnel from his quasigroup pool and formulate new action sets. The relationships he has terminated may temporarily lapse into a latent quasigroup, to be reactivated later or may be shed entirely. Nor do males establish only one household relationship at a time. They may have commitments of varying degrees to many households at the same time. Their resources may be instrumental to the survival of a number of dispersed groups of women. Considering this, it is more accurate to identify the locus of male activity as the stable and sedentary winkel rather than the shifting, temporary household. A Few Characters Shortly before the work day begins at 7 o'clock in the morning, Mr. van Kanten leaves his one story, concrete block house and heads in the direction of the main street. The street is quiet, as it is still too early for children to leave for school. Looking into open yards he sees women talking over back yard fences, cleaning up after their breakfasts of tea and bread, and washing clothes. They are not yet ready to begin preparing rice which, ready by ten o'clock, will remain on the stove all day, feeding the hungry mouths of those eligible to eat. Young children rake clean the

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71 dirt yards to prepare them for the day's accumulation of rubbish. Men have already left, either for work or a stroll downtown; home is no place to linger. Mr. van Kanten should be at work too but today like most days he chose not to go. Occasionally he goes to the office and stays until 9:30 in the morning but rarely ever does he stay later. He works for the government, is friends with the boss, and is not really needed there. Doubtless an efficiency expert would suggest that he be forced to work his shift; but the remedy might cause more trouble than the abuse. Mr. van Kanten is walking the same path with the same destination that he has walked for the last fifteen years. Two blocks away, on the corner of a busy intersection, stands the winkel of Chung the Chinese. This is a very special winkel . It is clean and spacious, and the owner is not above friendly banter with the Creoles (on whom his business rests), and to whom he extends credit. Well located, it has a reputation as a friendly, safe, and enjoyable place to congregate. Most importantly for the male patrons, largely residents in and around the neighborhood, it enjoys a license that permits the sale of all hard liquors. The heavy green shutters of the winkel are still boarded shut; undeterred, van Kanten pushes open the tall doors and finds a fleshy, big bellied Chinese sweeping away the residue of last night's gathering. Chung speaks no Dutch, but van Kanten, although light skinned and well educated as a bookkeeper, prefers Sranan Tongo anyway. Van Kanten greets

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72 Chung, hails Vrouw Chung who is busy in the back room living quarters cooking for the day's sales, and seats himself at a small table where he will spend most of the day and part of the night . For Sf 3.50^" he orders a half pint of American whiskey and gets with it a glass, bottle of cold water, and a small bowl of ice cubes from Chung's freezer. He could have chosen from a wide stock of local and imported beers, domestic and foreign rum, Dutch gin, brandy, or any one of the many brands of whiskey offered. He claims his frail, 110 pound constitution cannot digest beer; it bloats him and gives a bellyache. Like most of the Creoles who come here, he drinks whiskey and looks down his nose at the local rums which he feels are inferior to American products. Although much cheaper, rum is infrequently drunk. The excuses offered: upsetting digestion, wretched hangovers, instant intoxication, and loss of memory are not above suspicion. A whiskey drinker is a well situated man, or so everyone likes to think. Chung flings open the shutters and prepares for the daily round of work. The first to troup in will be the school children spending their pennies on sweets before going to the elementary school a few blocks away. They will return again at 2 oÂ’clock when school closes for the day. The children range in age from 5 to about 14 or 15Everyday they see van Kantan and he sees them. Boys and girls make fun of him, flinging the same barbs they hear their mothers fling against their men. Midst the clamor van Kanten mutters the common

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73 critique about today's ill-mannered poorly raised children. With a casual laugh van Kanten reminisces about his wife and child who left him and went to Holland. They married when he was 32 , had a child and settled down in the area. Prior to that he claims to have been quite a lover and visited many women. With his salary of Sf 550 per month and hers of over 700 guilders as a skilled technician they lived very well indeed. (The poverty line as established by the government is a total income of Sf 240 per month for a family of man, woman and four children.) Distressed by his heavy drinking and neighborhood reports of his philandering, she left him three years ago . The five room house to himself, he allied himself with a fellow from the winkel thrown out by his wife, and they roomed together for the next year. Men however need women and this fortuitous coupling of two males would never do. Soon both parted, independently establishing relationships with women. It is approaching eight o'clock and 'the street is alive and roaring with delivery trucks, private vehicles, and the ubiquitous motor bikes. The neighborhood is fully awake and active now, as women trek to the market and to the houses of friends and relatives. They will begin the first of their endless trips to the winkel . The children are off to school and, in a free moment, those women still at home can pull aside the curtains covering the two front windows which always flank the door and look out at the people passing by. With a studied stare each

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74 person is evaluated: their ethnicity, clothing, where they are going, who they are with, and, if possible, who they are. If recognized, the passerby walks to the window, perches one foot on the foundation supporting the house, tilts the head and, after a greeting inquiring into the well being of family and friends, points out such news as local deaths and births, and reviews matters of the day. Men, especially between the ages of 20 and 50, do not engage in this behavior. It is bad form; talking to a woman can only arouse suspicion about the designs you have on her. Men know this as well as women, and a disinterested chat might start others to gossiping, or might even cause the other party to think there is an interest there. For a man, this means she may begin following him about, spreading stories, provoking trouble with his other women, or even lingering outside the winkel seeking funds and favors. Sex, even the suggestion of it, can take on a very financial dimension. Across the street from the winkel , a man in his fifties opens the alley gate to a grey, weathered, two-room cottage, and rolls his bicycle out onto the street. He wears molding, battered rubber sandals on his feet, differentiating him from most of the other people herabouts who prefer the dignity of shoes. His wrinkled pants are cinched around his great paunch with a piece of rope; a white shirt is stuffed willynilly into his trousers. Around his neck he wears a slender gold chain, the only item lending elegance to his demeanor. 1

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75 The color of his skin is black and he is obviously not at all well to do. Entering the winkel , he walks to the counter and, before ordering, greets van Kanten by addressing him as meneer (mr. or sir). Today he must drink beer, it is towards the end of the month and his funds are low. This is Russel (as he is known to everyone) and he lives with Betty and her old mother. Today he is in the winkel in the morning, as his job as custodian at an office downtown rotates him on shifts. Next week he will come to the winkel in the afternoons and the week after that in the evenings. Today Russel will stay here until 1 o’clock when he goes home for lunch. If it is not prepared and laid out on the table for him there will be trouble. To Russel it would be a clear statement that his concubine has no respect for him. With only a tenuous hold in that residential grouping of two women, he tries to demand respect — at least. The house in which he lives is owned by his woman’s mother; the rented yard is also in her name. Russel also has his own house and yard which he inherited with his sister. Eight years ago Russel took up living with Betty. She moved out of her mother’s house and came to live with him, the more acceptable form of conjugal residence. (Moving in with the man is all right as long as he is not living with his consanguines.) A few years ago the SO year old mother fell ill and Betty felt obligated to return to nurse her. Russel accompanied her, and the two of them now sleep in a small bedroom while the mother sleeps on a cot in the sitting room. 1

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76 Russel rented out his house and yard and now divides the income with his sister (who chose not to exercise her rights to live there— she had a man) . His share amounts to no more than Sf 10 a month, but he never fails to throw it in Betty’s face when he wishes to make a show of independence or threatens to leave her because of some real or imagined indignity. He reminds her that he always has a place to go. Besides Betty and Russel have had no children together; she is barren and has no one to turn to. From Russel’s Sf 215 monthly salary he gives Sf 10 apiece to the mothers of the two children he fathered through visiting relationships and Sf 75 to Betty. The remainder of his salary, except for an occasional item such as a radio, is spent at the winkel and on gifts for women he is currently visiting. He has openly engaged in a number of affairs (he once attempted to have intercourse with the visiting daughter of the boarder who stays in the back room of the house) and people in the neighborhood funneled the word back to Betty. A few days ago he bought an expensive bottle of perfume for one of his lady friends and announced to all assembled in the winkel that he was going to her at that moment. When Betty heard this she remarked that he does not even bring her a can of beer. Among the men who gather regularly at the winkel , Russel has a poor reputation and is often the object of crude jokes. Consensus has it that he is sloppy and dirty ( morsoe ; a particularly strong indictment from a people who are very con1

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77 cerned about body cleanliness.) He is also a gossip, a not to be trusted loudmouth. Everyone in Suriname gossips, but judiciously, with desired ends in mind, with certain people, and at proper times and places. Gossip in many ways functions as a recruitment mechanism and boundary maintaining device in the formation of groups. If one is privy to gossip from a certain group one responds in kind, and one participates with few other groups. To do so would compromise credibility in the original groups and threaten its internal equilibrium by signaling out certain of its members as potential targets for harmful gossip that the gossiper intentionally or inadvertently passed on. Russel is gossiped about, and he gossips to many people, but only rarely is he gossiped "with." In a society where smart self presentation and verbal agility are valued, Russel fails. He is neither intelligent nor quick witted and is, in fact, quite gullible. His Dutch is deplorable and when a situation calls for its usage, he becomes so nervous that he makes blunders in what little of the language he knows. This is crucial, because the Dutch language is an earmark of education, intelligence and upward mobility (whether the speaker in reality is, or is not, is not the point). Any statement by Russel in Dutch is a clear statement that he is a poor, uneducated, unrefined "Negro" ( nengre or in Dutch, LagerNeger ) . This morning Russel is particularly meek with van Kanten. Yesterday his inadequacies as a provider, householder, and 1 man among men were glaring. Two events had occurred.

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78 Late in the morning a group of men had gathered at the winkel and began swapping stories. One story dealt with a young women who lived across the street. Reputedly ’’loose,” she was again carrying a child by some "outside man" ' ( doro se man) . It was roundly conceded that she had a nice figure and was indeed worthy of pursuing for a night’s pleasure. However, the conversation went no further and at no time did any of the men present bring up personal details about his own love life nor that of any of the women with whom he kept company. In short, there was no "counting coup" or notches on the bedposts reminiscent of American male locker room talk. Rarely are personal details ever recounted. Everyone present knew every other man's general interests, exploits, number of children, reputation, and so forth anyway from local gossip networks. Russel, however, spoke in poor taste, proceeding to point out how he enjoys making love to one of his "outside women" ( doro se oema ) with whom he has a visiting relationship. The men quieted and looked at Russel with mild disbelief. As he was going into details about exacting coitus by mounting the female from the rear, old Katrina entered the winkel for her morning shot of dram (residue rum left at the bottom of the barrel; in addition to being cheap it is quite potent). Russel, now waving his arms furiously during the narrative, seized upon Katrina and spun her around with her back to him. He forced her head down causing her to bend over and gave a mock demonstration of the rear entry technique for all to see.

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79 He let her go and with an embarrassed giggle she ran out of the winkel . Russel pointed out this was the nengre doro (Negro door or back door) technique, a form often used by o prostitutes who sell their commodities in back allies and behind fences. There was, during the entire dialogue, no response from the men. No one ordered him to stop even though they found his behavior offensive. It would later emerge that negative sanctions, even if wielded against an obvious offender, temporarily strain the internal cohesion of the group by calling into action various relationships of "allies." An individual belongs to many such overlapping dyads, and it would call into play alliances that were not mutually exclusive. Choices would have to be made, thus sacrificing group cohesion — the raison d'etre for the group's existence. In essence, there was a wholesale inhibition of aggressiveness. This same day at about one or two o'clock, after the morning's drinking was done, the men dispersed, each going his own way. For all the intensity of interaction and open confirmation of good fellowship within the winkel , there is no common participation in group activities outside the winkel by these men. Russel left the winkel and walked home to confront his second dilemma. Entering the back yard he saw a man climbing the canipa (a local fruit) tree with a sack which he was loading with pilfered fruit. Doing this two or three more times he hopped over the fence and disappeared. Russel did •>

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not attempt to stop the man or hail him, or notify Betty or what was happening, or call the police. He did however recognize the man and the next morning at the winkel he spread the tale of the pilferage, casting aspersions on the thief and his family. In the winkel the following day a ruckus was heard outside caused by two women and a man approaching the winkel . They entered in a rage, surrounding Russel. The men in the winkel quietly put down their glasses and uttered not a peep. It was the fruit thief. Not so much as referring to the incident, he berated Russel for spreading tales and gossiping about him "outside" (doro se_) . He stated that he did not wish to speak to Russel since Russel was owner of neither the trees nor yard, but rather, to his woman, Betty, who was. Russel could not go to fetch Betty, as she, being protective of her respectability, would not deal with strangers in a public forum. ^ The man pointed out that since Russel was not the owner of the trees he therefore had no right to spread tales. The crowd sided with the thief; popular morality had it that it would have been far better if Russel had forgotten the incident or had informed Betty. The tirade was not yet done. With unspoken agreement from the crowd the three accused parties poured forth venom on Russel, dragging up as much damaging history as they could remember. A constant refrain was RusselÂ’s inability to fulfill the role of provider, thus forcing Betty to supplement the household income by selling fruits, ice blocks, and

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performing services (ironing) for other people. The three went on to point out that his sister was loose and Russel was an irresponsible father of his two children born in visiting relationships. The incident of the stolen canipa was all but forgotten. At this point old Katrina entered the winkel . Seizing upon Russel's vulnerable position she too proceeded to deride him. A resident of the neighborhood for all her 70 years she knew more volatile gossip about Russel than anyone else, and gave forth. The audience listened attentively. By the end of Russel's kroetoe (in this case, argument), little had been said about the canipa or the mock sex act, but he had been cut down to size, as the status bloodbath leveled him to beneath the status of his peers. Russel will remember this and balance out the record when he gets a chance. A number of interesting things were going on in this incident. The Creole population of Paramaribo is small, and most of them live in, albeit broad, residential clusters. Networks of kinship, mating, friendship and social and political clubs tie the group tenuously together. Information of all stripes (gossip, notices, instructions, condemnations, and so forth) flow along these lines. People are in relatively close contact and know a great deal about each other . More of course is known about people within the same residential area and same class. The intense contact does increase the chances of real or alleged injustices among parties. However, since it is a small group, cross cut by alliances of various kinds

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(overlapping kindreds, descent group membership, and exchange networks) an open display of aggressiveness would be disturbing and disrupting. As a result, there is much unexpressed hostility. There are sanctioned times, places and situations where a person or group can blow off steam without upsetting the equilibrium of the entire group by calling into play 3 various allegiances and commitments. This morning, when Russel joined van Kanten, the winkel was active as usual. Women and children ducked in and out on their endless errands. They are careful and speak to and acknowledge only those they know well. However, they look carefully and listen to everything. Delivery men come and go, as well as men stopping in for a drink before continuing on to work. Should one now go to the downtown shopping areas .the streets would be found crowded with official looking clerks in uniform, men in white shirts and ties, department store personnel in their costumes, and other workers, all busily engaged in buying their daily provisions. Businesses in Paramaribo are open from 7 o'clock in the morning until 1 in the afternoon and from 4 in the afternoon until 6 o'clock in the evening. Except for government personnel whose total work day ends at 2 o 'clock in the afternoon, almost everyone in Paramaribo works this shift . Every morning between 9 and 10 o'clock the streets, shops and markets are filled with workers doing their chores on company time. Also about this time in the morning a group of young men

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in their late teens gathers on the corner outside the winkel . The older men (24 and older) never stay outside, but remain inside; the teenagers, however, move freely between the public world and the private domain. This movement in space is quite reflective of their winkel status and is discussed under the sub-section dealing with winkel recruitment. There are six older teenagers, all from the neighborhood, and every mid-morning, through the day, and into the evening they can be found here on the corner or in one of the adjacent back yards. They are all unemployed, and claim that the low salaries being paid do not make it worth their while to work. They all have high aspirations. Not one has more than an elementary school education. They claim that even if they went to school suitable jobs would not be available for them. Often they speak of going to Holland, both for the opportunities and the excitement. A Hindustani controlled government is in power now, and many Creoles are feeling the pinch, especially when a favor needs to be done. Two of the boys are brothers and live with their mother, three sisters, and their motherÂ’s third man. All the siblings are getting older and will soon form new residential households with their concubines if finances permit. Otherwise, l the women, with children or not, will remain with their mother. The boys will stay around home longer than the girls, as they tend to establish their semi-permanent mating relationships a few years later. However, all have the right to return to mother if things do not go well in their new households.

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The boys supplement their meager incomes by doing temporary odd jobs, soliciting food and money from their aunt around the corner, getting a guilder or two from their working sister, occasionally engaging in praedial theft, and being present at auspicious moments when the men in the winkel , either on payday or when in a jolly mood, buy them a beer. The fellows all live in roughly the same arrangement; all with kin, either mother or motherÂ’s sister. All their siblings are_ present. One fellow has brought in his concubine as well. However, this is not an ideal situation and as soon as he gets a job he will search for a small house and move out. The other fellows all mate extra-residentially with female age-mates in the neighborhood and as yet have no children. The young men are all dressed in clean shirts and pressed slacks. All are considered well mannered and pleasant, although one of them has a reputation of being a .thief. He does not steal from the neighborhood and so is not strongly censured or condemned, although watched suspiciously. When it is available, and they have the money, they occasionally smoke marijuana in the back yards under the trees. More frequently they drink beer. The adult men in the winkel do not really know what marijuana is, other than that the media tell them it is bad. They are not interested and do not criticize the youths on this count. The marijuana itself, sold usually in the quantity of two joints for Sf 5> is of poor quality and is usually cut with vegetable greens.

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The boys buy only from trusted pushers who get their goods from Holland or Brazil and make the rounds from neighborhood to neighborhood. Marijuana is illegal in Suriname. The boys infrequently go downtown to patronize the cafes, restaurant-beer joints, record shops, and other places of congregation. Better off and better educated youths (middle school or high school) usually spend their time in the city. Clerks, salesgirls, students, and the leisured can be seen hob-nobbing with the returnees from Holland, easily identified by their gaudy European trappings. The fellows who stand outside the winkel are much more comfortable in the neighborhood environment with its known safe places, faces and expectations than in hectic downtown Paramaribo . Two men approach the winkel from different directions. . One of them arrives by car and is smartly dressed in white shirt, tie loosened at the neck, and slacks. He used to come regularly every morning at 10 o'clock from his post in government and stay for one drink or many depending on how urgent the day's work was. Since getting embroiled in a controversial issue that conflicted with the proper execution of his non-partisan work he left the job to work at his political party headquarters. This is Schill, a light skinned friendly, intelligent man in his forties, a principal character in the winkel. Marcell approaches by foot. Ill planned weight lifting in his youth left him with broad muscular shoulders, bulging

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36 biceps, narrow hips and spindly legs. He is a dark skinned man in his late twenties, dressed very, very casually in modish slacks and a pull over jersey. Usually he sports a cowboy hat. He saunters with a slightly arrogant air and appears ready to take on any challenge. All of Marcell's traits, both physical and social, would lead strangers to stereotype him as a "bad boy" ( ogri boi — thief, fighter, parasite, etc.). Totally to the contrary he is not, for he holds a position as a highly skilled blue collar worker, and with overtime pay draws one of the highest salaries in the neighborhood. With his money he, like all the other men in the winkel , supports a number of households containing kin and friends. The unlikely pair meet, sit down together at the same table with van Kanten and Russel, and share a bottle of whiskey. Marcell calls to the Chinese to put it on the credit tab he pays every fortnight. Schill talks incessently of politics, mostly of the days of glory during the Johan Pengel regime. (He was the Creole Prime Minister of Suriname from 1963 through 1969*) Plans are discussed for the days to come when he and his friends can reassume positions of prestige. When Schill talks, people in the winkel listen as he is privy to much (but not all) of what goes on at higher levels and has the ear of important people (who usually do not listen to him) . Everyone in the winkel either listens or contributes to these forum like dialogues injecting their own opinions, perceptions and preferences.

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37 Schill is a broker between the masses and the upper echelons. Each neighborhood has at least one, and they all f act in roughly similar modes by developing patronage networks, establishing personal contacts with high status neighborhood personages, dispensing favors, and passing information up and down. Most of SchillÂ’ s political work is done through women for they form clubs and organizations, either for pleasure, mutual aid, or political organization and recruitment. WomenÂ’s groups' ramify far outside the household and serve a very basic function in integrating the neighborhood. Men on the other hand are dispersed far and wide and rarely form formal groups . Schill calls on them at the winkel and can be expected to show up every morning. Marcell listens, an occasional wry look passing over his face. Marcell first met Schill when he originally came here, and is still suspicious of what motivates Schill to enter the political arena. In Suriname it is widely acknowledged that politics is a game one plays for personal profit and gain. And why not, they say; better a few should get a lion's share while passing on the rest, than everybody getting nothing. Marcell will cast his vote for Schill 's party, as will most Creoles; but Marcell knows Schill 's story. In the heady days of Pengel's regime, Schill had a high position in a government department . He drew a salary of almost Sf 600 a month, had a government car, and received a number of fringe benefits (that an outsider would call "petty graft") that increased his salary handsomely. He had a good

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education (through high school) and took some specialized technical courses. He was married and had three children. At this time he spent very little time at the winkel , preferring instead the slick casinos, bars, and restaurants of downtown. A fast life led to the dissolution of his 1 * marriage. He moved in with van Kanten sleeping there, eating at his sister’s and having his laundry done by his ex-wife. He visited other women in tenuous waka-waka (walking or visiting) relationships. All went smoothly until the collapse of the Pengel government in 1969* Schill was placed in an unimportant department, still drawing his same salary, but without the fringe benefits. His contacts out of power, his earnings diminished, and his old congregating places filled with new and unfriendly faces, Schill joined the winkel crew. Later he was appointed president of a local-level political cell in a nearby ward and began expanding his social and political network throughout Frimangron . His contacts with people were personal and 11 many-stranded" and soon Schill became a familiar part of the area. He could be counted on to provide five guilders for a penniless mother, an old bicycle for an especially deprived child, to regel (arrange) someone seeking a job, and other small-scale trifles necessary for the daily existence of the people. The relationships formed are not binding or as institutionalized as classical "patron— client" ties (Foster, 1961) . Rather, they are shortterm, situational patronage ties unembedded in any other

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institutions such as ritual or fictive kinship. The "client" was relatively unencumbered by formal statements of rights and duties. Schill's mating behavior changed too. From far flung contacts with many females, he began to see more and more of a young woman who lived up the street from the winkel . She would wait for him every morning and evening outside the winkel and when he was finished inside they would go off to his house. About this same time he rented a house in a residential area more prestigious than Frimangron while continuing his daily contact. He continued to mate extra -residentially with his young woman, a sister of the two teenage brothers described earlier. While others listen to Schill's deliveries, Marcell stares out the window, his eyes seizing upon every moving object. Last night he worked the night shift at the Aff obakka dam and rode the sixty kilometers back to the city to enjoy his day off before returning again that afternoon. The aluminum company provides food and shelter for the men who work at Affobakka , but, without the excitement of Paramaribo, the men do not like it there and prefer the long daily journey back to foto . He arrived in Paramaribo at 2 o'clock in the morning, slept until 9 o'clock, drank a glass of ice water and came to the winkel . At this point Marcell is enjoying the sexual services of five women; he has the economic resources to do it. When the women are short of money they can come to him for aid;

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90 his periodic disbursals of anything, from small change to upwards of Sf 100 make him invaluable. They all know where to find him and often in the evenings a whisper through the window will draw him outside. He may call upon them for services (sex, running an errand, housecleaning) that evening, the next day, or next week. The connection may remain latent, often reactivated first by a woman. Today he is off and wants to enjoy himself. Two of his women are out of town, one is being visited by her man who was away working in the jungle, one is menstruating, and the other is pregnant . The woman with whom he lives is away visiting her sister. Marcell is coy and women, knowing his reputation as a high wage earner and liberal gift giver, do not often shun his come-ons . While the others debate politics and abstract points, Marcell spots three teenage girls strolling down the street. Casually he places his head close to the window and just as casually the tallest of the three girls swings in close to the side of the building. He whispers an invitation for later and with a nonchalant nod it is accepted. Tirelessly he continues to scan the street, and a few moments later spots two more young women approaching. He whistles at them and they come to the window. Both ask for cigarettes and they tell him they are on their way home from market. Mar cell does not know them, but they are familiar with him. Drinking the last sip of beer, Marcell yells to Vrouw Chung and asks for another bottle. Told there are no more he pulls a Sf 2.50 note from his pocket and* handing it to the most talkative of

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91 the young women tells her* to go across the street to the other winkel , purchase a liter bottle of beer, and bring it back to him. Returning the bottle the woman extends her hand with the change, only to have Marcell casually wave it away. Two men sitting at the same table with Marcell roll their eyes and laugh, exclaiming ’Marcell is the biggest man in Suriname . ” ( Marcell na moro bigi man foe Sranan .) The girls leave.' Marcell later explained that he had seen the girls pass by frequently, and is sure they will pass by again (which now of course they will) . He knows that he will "get them back.” When asked if this meant the money he gave away, he laughed and said, "No man, you know what I mean." During the last bimonthly pay period Marcell worked overtime and brought home Sf 43 5 • This is a high salary and by national financial standards would place Marcell solidly in the middle class. However, Marcell is in debt to the company bank and his paternal aunt, and at the end of every pay period he is penniless . He has Sf 25 left from the Sf 435 check he received a little over a week ago. The money found its way to the following people. Chung, the winkel proprietor, got Sf 102 for Marcell's two week alcohol bill. (Some women support themselves and their children on less than Sf 60 per month.) Sf 100 went to his concubine. She uses the money to buy clothes, food, jewelry, household decorations and appliances

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92 (for their two room worn cottage), and to make contributions to her family who are poor. Because he lived with his paternal aunt off and on for the last 11 years, Marcell gave her Sf 50. To care for her children he gave the aunt's daughter, his cousin, Sf 30. Sf 25 went to Silvia a woman with whom he occasionally visits, as well as Sf 10 for another of his girl friends. The other three young women he visits got nothing this paycheck. His sister looked him up at the winkel yesterday and he gave her Sf 10. House rent at Sf 14, and utilities completed his disbursals. Were it not for Marcell *s entangling relationships, he would be a wealthy man. However, Marcell knows no other way of life and, given the reciprocal binding relationships he has and the services upon which he is dependent, it is difficult to see how he can break out of the pattern he is in. Many dispersed households are dependent on Marcell as a son, nephew, cousin, lover, and in-law. He is a very valuable source of economic capital. (More of this in Chapter V.) Marcell will stay at the winkel until about 2 o'clock today. He will eat later with Sissy his paternal aunt because his woman is away. There is no set eating hour. A pot of rice with vegetables and fish is always on the stove and Marcell needs only take a portion and retire to a meal under the trees in the back yard. If it is not too noisy he may nap at her house, or walk the four blocks to his own house. Most of the men will follow the same pattern, and when they awake at four o'clock in the afternoon they will 1 ' return to work, stroll downtown, or return to the winkel to

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93 remain there until closing time. Many men drop in the wink el t hroughout the day. Many are marginal to the crew of about 15 who frequent the winkel regularly and have good relations with one another. Two more men will be described before a description of winkel behavior and the extra winkel networks these men participate in is ventured . Mr. Geld arrives most weekdays at 2:15 in the afternoon, just when business is slowing down and most of the men are leaving. He is a soft spoken, well mannered man of about 45 years who works as a head repairman for the government. He likes to project the image of a "gentleman," neither rude nor boisterous, and disinterested in the gossip around him. He consciously comes to the winkel at this hour to avoid the crowds. In this atmosphere he can relax, unbothered by the prying eyes that search for a bit of useful gossip. He feels the more people know about you, the more they can hurt you, and that black people are especially fond of hurting one another through gossip and story telling. Pointing to his skin he often says "this color is not good" ( disi boeba no boen ) and launches into the standard Caribbean metaphor of "crab antics" (see Wilson, 1973 f° r a complete discussion). He claims that if one black man sees another getting ahead, he will do his best to drag him down through slander or worse, through black magic and curses. He avoids this by drinking his whiskey with a few acquaintances and avoiding the loose congeries of strangers that gather temporarily every morning and evening.

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94 Mr. Geld makes about Sf 295 per month. He lives in a two— story house not far away and pays a monthly rent of fortyfive guilders. This is very high for the area where cottages run on the average between eight and twenty-five guilders. He was living in concubinage until about three years a g°> an d now pays forty guilders a month in child support for his two offspring. Asked if he has a woman now, he will say no, but go on to explain that he has a "servant" ( dienst meis je ) who cooks for him, cleans house, and occasionally spends the night with him. He pays her a salary of Sf 50 per month and provides her with occasional cash presentations and goods. He does not choose to waka-waka or become involved with other women; they would only get him in trouble with other men and women, place unreasonable demands on him, and siphon off his salary. Although he occasionally rides his motorcycle to the winked in the evenings, he prefers to stay home with a drink while reading the paper and watching television. On his days off as accountant at the Dutch Aluminum company, Mr. Rijker may stop in for an hour or so before lunch. Usually he comes 3 ° r 4 nights a week, after the paper work he brought home with him is completed. He makes a good salary, about Sf 350 per month. Something, however, about Mr. Rijker' s interaction patterns and use of time distinguishes him from the other men. It has very little to do with how much money he makes but rather that Mr. Rijker is married and behaves as a married man. *»

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f 95 Compared to the other men, Mr. Rijker devotes huge amounts of time to home and family. Not that he does that much when home; his wife and her frequently visiting sister, mother and aunt see to all the household chores while the six children do odd jobs and repairs. Yet, he is around home, and when he goes to the winkel he neither stays as long nor spends as much money as the other men. Because he does not spend too much time at the winkel due to demands of wife and work, Mr. Rijker is marginal to the core of the winkel group. They claim "he never comes here," when actually he spends a good deal of time there. By a sort of equilibrium maintaining mythology he is subtly excluded from full participation and membership. Ke is not "one of the boys" in a very obvious sense and threatens group sentiment and ideological rationalization by his behavior. He cannot freely buy drinks and symbolically reaffirm his friendship, nor can he take off on a momentÂ’s notice for action miles away, nor can he engage in the sexual foreplay and dalliance that spices winkel life. If the men in the winkel have "manly flaws" (Liebow, 1967), Mr. Rijker points out that all men do not have them. These are some of the men who congregate at the winkel : van Kanten the bookkeeper, Russel the custodian, unemployed teenagers, Schill the ne'er do well politician, Marcell, Geld the repairman, and Rijker the clerk. Of course there are others in the crew. The closest knit network within the winkel consists of Elder the 66 year old retired government t

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96 functionary and now a part time clerk and full time political party propagandist; Charlie the auto mechanic; Toriman the unemployed writer, Bunker the middle range civil servant; Frankie the unemployed cook; Willem the company foreman; Chris the tour guide; and Tony an employee at an orange crating factory. One, or some, or all of these men are sometimes or always at the winkel . Men in Groups : Centrifugal and Cent ripe dal Forces The 15 or so men who make up the in-group winkel crew are almost never all together at the same time. Far too many extra -winkel activities tying each male to his own time schedules and patterned use of space mitigate against this. Marcell goes to great lengths to spend every possible free moment at the winkel . Even if forced to work a 4 p.m. to midnight shift 60 kilometers from Paramaribo he will ride the uncomfortable bus to the city and spend the morning hours at the winkel only to report back to work at night. Men gathering nightly at the winkel ask of his whereabouts and are satisfied with the answer that he is "working shift." Prior to his layoff Frankie would enjoy every weekend and the weekdays he could manage to get off. The rainy season inhibiting timber cutting, allowed him more time in Paramaribo When unemployed he spent all morning and evening at the winkel Working now as a part-time carpenter he works from 7 in the morning to 11, has a few drinks after work, and returns at 5 o'clock to spend the evening drinking and talking. Chris would spend all his free time in the winkel, when

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97 not in the bush. For two weeks he would be absent, only no return for' two weeks of preferred activity. Now, however, Chris is in new circumstances. He met a young woman with whom he has produced two children. He chooses to live in faithful concubinage. When in the bush he leaves her with her parents in Albina. At the end of his tours of duty he returns with her to his rented house in the city and spends about half his time with her and half with the crew. A short time ago an auspicious job opportunity arose as a well-salaried manager of a game preserve outside the city. Chris jumped at the chance and moved with his woman and children. Now he stops in about once every two weeks while shopping in the city and on irregular occasions for birthdays and wakes, He is greeted fondly and immediately brought into the conversation. No one asks what he does during his absence from the city nor about his new circumstances. The conversation deals with the immediate present and what is going on in the neighborhood unless Chris interrupts to tell a personal anecdote. Topics delve little into the lives of the participants. One does not regularly talk of personal problems. No one goes to visit Chris nor do they plan to although he is always welcomed in the winkel . Time seems to collapse as if Chris had never gone away. Some men show up as regularly as clockwork, others erratically as schedules permit. In most cases, the menÂ’s presence or absence is dictated not by domestic commitments 1

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9S but by the spinning of their work cycles. Saturdays are busy (boisterous if Friday was payday) and the winkel is packed by noon. It is possible for the crew to assemble as a unit, for a long time, before they begin off on their separate ways. They are not, however, seen sitting or standing in a discrete cluster. Two or three are seated at one table, another is standing at the counter and another talks outside with a passing woman. But the frequency, intensity and duration of their interaction if viewed over a time span distinguishes them from the others present. The rules by which they play and the sentiment expressed in their conversation transforms them into a group apart from the others. It is this fact that has led Caribbeanists to focus on the neatly clustered women and children who congregate in space. Men are not so neatly packaged. One must follow movement over time and the temporal flow of their relationships in order to grasp the nature of male groups. Time is an integral building block of social organization and should not be overlooked simply because it is more difficult to pin down and is not reified in the form of clubs, households or rigidly patterned, recurrent congregations. The boundaries of the group are porous; men leave and return depending on their situations . Their gatherings are discontinuous; rarely are they ever all together at the same time. They have no common symbols, no idea of "oneness," or esprit de corps , or set procedures for recruitment.

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99 Consensus on any topic is rarely reached. Never have the men acted. as a unit. Even their salaries range from low to very high. Yet there are shared similarities that draw them together regularly enough to distinguish them from other men both inside and outside the winkel . What follows is a short analysis of the structure and process of the winkel crew. The effect of certain variables such as time cycles and family connections will be pointed out in so far as they affect group interaction and cohesion. Points of hostility will be noted as well as important social junctures . A table of some of the men who compose the in-group winkel crew is included below. Beneath the overt manifestations of fraternity and good fellowship, mutual drinking, intense conversation, consensus on certain non-threatening topics, and verbal affirmations that all those present are true and honorable representatives of "manhood," there lies a covert hostility founded primarily on the supposition that the others present, in some way and at some time, will try to exploit you. The theme of hostility is subtly expressed in the caution exercised in establishing new relationships and in assuring that established relationships are not extended too deeply. A request made and not fulfilled either because the one requested wonÂ’t or can't comply, is an open statement that the group is not what it is supposed to be. On a symbolic level this feeling is often expressed in the proverb

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102 ( odo ) ; "Friends are good, but also friends are not good." ( Mati boen , ma mat i no boen . ) Outside of the winkel , these men belong to no common membership groups. No clubs, associations, activities, or other points and places of congregation draw these men, in part or entirely, into a larger more inclusive unit. Outside of the winkel these men are not dependent on one another. It is with women that they form their supportive relationships. If the men in the winkel are related to each other geneologically, the ties are so distant that no one recognizes them. If one investigates kinship relations between an ad hoc gathering of Creoles, some will have a common distant geneological connection with some others. The small population, the tendency for lower class people to mate amongst themselves, a flexible mating system allowing for more than one mate, and a far-flung web of cognat ic descent combined with a broad ranging definition of personal kindred allow for this. In the winkel there are no rights and responsibilities of kinship expressed between any of the 15 men in any context. The men belong to no clubs together. All club memberships are established by each individual separately to satisfy his extra -winkel needs. As far as membership in formal clubs (with recruitment policies, insignias defining restricted membership, scheduled meetings, structured and enduring responsibilities between members) only those men who are upwardly mobile (or who wish their offspring to be upwardly mobile) are in a position to remove themselves t

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103 from lower class interaction patterns and join clubs. (See, for comparison, Manning, 1973 . ) Mr. Rijker and his wife belong to the order of Mechanics, the least prestigious, but yet important, secret lodge in Paramaribo. It draws in members from the middle and upper classes. Schill is a member of a private bar and often takes his girl friend there on weekends to enjoy the entertainment. Membership is Sf 100 per year, but because of Schill' s political position and the potential favors he might later bestow, this fee was waived. No other members of the winkel crew belong to either of these two groups, nor to any other voluntary association. Political parties in Suriname are based on ethnic blocks (except those few small parties that may espouse a special ideological platform, e.g., communism, women's rights, etc.). By virtue of their race all the men in the winkel either belong to or vote for the largest Creole party in Suriname. However, this again is a very individual commitment and in no way bundles the men together into an identifiable group. Election day finds each man going his own separate way to the polls, or staying home, or sitting at the winkel . Save for Schill, none of the winkel crew work in an administrative, voluntary, or salaried position for their party. Politics does not act as an integrating factor between men at the winkel. The men do not work together. No two individuals are employed at a common place. They do not depend on one another 1

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for transportation, assistance or advice. Unless somehow involved in neighborhood gossip, the men at the winkel never talk about the fellows with whom they work nor do they visit them or invite them to the winkel . These men have their own winkels in their own neighborhoods. Although most of the winkel crew had lived or do live in Frimangron , their work carries them to commercial downtown Paramaribo, and for some, into different parts of Suriname. The men do not reside together (except for one brief instance for Schill and van Kantan and this proved unsuccessful) . In the first place, this would be grounds for suspicion of homosexuality. Better to live alone, they say, than with another man. There is really no need for the men to reside together as it would neither simplify the division of household labor nor greatly reduce the monthly rent. Houses are inexpensive for these men, and food, laundry, mending, sex, and so forth are taken care of by groups of women who are located in their own households. The men do not rotate or share women among themselves. Competition for women is keen although not hostile, and when two men who know each other are involved sexually with the same woman it can only lead to trouble. The men rarely take women out for a stroll, to a movie, for a drink, to church. All visitation takes place within the confines of a house. "Could you imagine," they say, "if you took your woman out and one of your other women saw you." Even if a scene were avoided at the time of contact, there would certainly be hell

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105 to pay on the next meeting. Men avoid places where women congregate; the encounter of two lovers in the presence of their common male has led to many a kroetoe (argument, verbal encounter) particularly at birthday parties, wakes, and funerals . There are certain safeguards assuring that men in the winkel have no contact with another crew member's woman. If one needs to contact a fellow crew member, one goes to the winkel and spreads the word. It is best left to Chung, the proprietor, for as the repository of all messages he knows the schedule of each of the men, their whereabouts, and is in contact with people who have contact with the sought individual. One rarely goes directly to a man's residence to seek him; (aside from his probably not being there) this would suggest baiting his woman. Even if the man is at home, say the men, she will not tell you of his whereabouts anyway. She would not want you to draw him out of the house to spend more money or make more contacts with other women. In contrast, when Marcell once was having trouble with his woman, he told no one in the winkel , not even his best friend Schill. He was afraid that "in her susceptible state of mind," a man would purposely go to his house in his absence and seduce her. Or, she might seduce him. There is no common participation in extra -winkel activities. During the wide spread strikes of early 1972 there was a great deal of activity in downtown Paramaribo. Union meetings w r ere held, politicians gave addresses and held t

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106 meetings, ceremonies were held for fallen comrades, and people gathered to watch police-protestor encounters and the subsequent violence. At no time did the men leave the winkel to watch, attend, or engage in the phenomena with someone else from the winkel . The only time a portion of these men act in concert is when there is a party or ritual to which some of them are entitled to attend. However, this does not draw the men together as a group, but merely calls together eligible individuals located in a common point in time and space. This is in no way a cooperative effort, for the men are unrelated among themselves. They are not considered a "group apart" by the initiator of the call, and all maintain different relationships with the "caller." Only those men from the winkel who are invited attend the function. Should two, three or all of the men belong to a common otherÂ’s network, they will attend, but their motives for going together are not generated by any intra -winkel motives or bonds. Their behavior as a group is externally imposed. The winkel men establish their most important and elaborate extra -wink el ties with their respective household groups. If these relationships were studied by employing females and children as the point of investigation this realization would not emerge so forcefully. However, when the focus is on the male, it becomes obvious that households are crucial to him, although he is absent, and that he is simultaneously very important to several households. *

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These men are marginal to all the households and residences, either consanguineal or conjugal, with which they have contact. Because of the extensive exchange networks radiating out from each male, they cannot become committed full time to any one residential cluster. As well as being fathers and lovers to a number of children and mothers, they are also sons and brothers to other women. They are dependent on the male, and the male in turn is dependent on them. In a lower class situation where wide and varied networks of individuals surrounding ego are needed, and in a socially marginal situation where ego relies on people close to him rather than formal organizations and institutions, the social contacts the men (and women) form act as support channels conveying goods and services in both directions, ultimately mitigating against the consolidation of social and economic capital in any one household. The totality of the lower class environment and the adaptation of men and women to it preclude the development of smaller, consolidated "families” and residential groups. Because of a mating system that sanctions visiting and concubinage, and marriage at an older age any number of contacts with women, resulting in children, can be made. All of these contacts require some financial contribution and siphon off aid that could have been made available to the man's current or future household. Indeed, local definition of manhood has it that men should have a number of children. Consorting with a large number of young women

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108 hardly blemishes a manÂ’s reputation in the eyes of other men. Aside from lovers, it is widely acknowledged to be a tragic situation when a man does not contribute financially to the maintenance of his mother. Unless a male is able to make a large contribution to a woman, and keep her from complaining about wages being siphoned off to other households, his position with her is marginal. Should he not adequately maintain the household of his woman, he forces her to seek financial assistance from other sources: a job (if possible) gifts from relatives, or other men. When a male begins a visiting relationship with a woman he is careful to note if she has children or not. If he lives with her in concubinage he is not legally responsible to support either her or her children. However, the woman has an excellent bargaining point in her children and may well point out that the children, although not his, have to be supported and that he is the household "breadwinner." The male may take it or leave it. The woman may also press the male to legally recognize the children as his own (if the genitor has not already done so). Instead of a small amount of monthly support coming from the genitor, the new pater must bear full responsibility for the children. In a possible situation like this (which happens frequently) the best strategy for the male is to stay away from and be marginal to the household in order to protect his limited funds from the encroachment of females

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109 and their children. In contrast children function as a survival strategy for women. It is widely acknowledged that children are a form of "life insurance" in old age. However, during the younger years, even though they are a burden and have to be supported, they do maintain a womanÂ’s contact with a number of men, and assure that money enters the household. RadcliffeBrown's (1950: 49) observation that children are the final consumation of a marriage applies as well, in an on-going financial sense, for visiting and concubinage relationships. Many of the standard "economic-occupational" marginality arguments (R. T. Smith, 1956 and Liebow, 1967) do not apply here. They tend to be far too materially oriented and limited in focus. A man's position in the occupational hierarchy is important in determining the composition of the household(s) he lives in, but it by no means explains everything. In the Surinamese case, almost all the wink el men draw salaries adequate to support at least one household at a level better than the official government poverty level. Yet, all but one of the men (and he is dependent on his af fines) live in "West Indian households." Circumstances generated by lower class interaction patterns, particularly the sanctioning of extra-residential mating, mitigated against the formulation of stable households.^ Outside of the wink el these men run their lives independently of one another. What then throws them together? The winkel is a common accessible point in space where men in a 1

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110 similar domestic situation can gather. I would not describe the social function of the winkel quite as strongly as Liebow does in speaking of his streetcorner where In self-defense, the husband retreats to the streetcorner. Here, where the measure of man is considerably smaller, and where the weaknesses are somehow turned upside down and almost magically transformed into strengths, he can be once again, a man among men. (1967: I36) In closing this section on "Men in Groups" it should be emphasized that the men are here together — halfway between downtown and household — because they refuse to commit themselves to one household. They also have no particular or enduring links to one another; merely a need for neutral territory and interaction away from the household. Male behavior in the winkel resembles male interaction with women in the household group; the relationships are short term, loose, and non-commital . In terms of interaction there is no male-to-male specific behavior pattern as opposed to male-t o-f emale specific behavior pattern; frequency, intensity, and duration of interaction is similar for both s ets . Perhaps the adaptive nature of this form of male behavior, in light of the possible relationships and repercussions available within the lower class situation, should be emphasized. Localized in space and sharing similar adaptive strategies, sentiment and ideology within the same environment the men draw together at the winkel . These men are not crushed and defeated, looking at society through the 1

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ill prism of disorganization but rather are clever strategists, holding on to what they have and what they need in an environment that demands nothing else . Friendship and Mutual Aid The winkel crew members do provide positive services for. one another. On close appraisal, many of the services and favors proferred between the crew members are for sustaining and maintaining the winkel in-group equilibrium. The men are careful to avoid bitter argument among themselves or to take sides when one of them is involved with someone from outside the group. They avoid calling into action overlapping alliances and bringing to bear external pressure that might rip apart the internal cohesion of the group. Symbolic mythology substitutes for structural reality. The men ask few favors of one another and expect little help outside the winkel . Only rarely, and only between the best of friends ( mat i ) , does aid and assistance extend beyond the winkel to cover personal debts and material needs. If one is a member of the crew it is because he has established a good reputation. He does not mooch drinks, try to overexploit the social, economic or political contacts of others, or gossip or pry into the affairs of others in the crew. Should he be without means, others with money will see him through the rough days. However, this support is only to maintain the manÂ’s in -winkel behavior; that is, to allow him to buy drinks and tobacco so that he may participate in the

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112 crewÂ’s interaction in a place that requires capital. This flow of aid is not without end; it is expected that the dependent party will reestablish himself and become selfsufficient soon. Frankie was employed as a cook at a lumber camp upriver from Albina on the border with French Guiana. He came to the winkel every weekend and frequently on weekdays during the rainy season when the jungle was difficult to work. He enjoyed a good reputation. One day he was told by his boss that part of the lumber camp would be sent up river to cut new grounds and that he was to go as their cook. Frankie refused for, as he put it, he did not want to live in the jungle like a Bush Negro. Except for monthly furloughs, the new camp would deny him access to Paramaribo. Indignant, he quit, and for four weeks, before he found work as a part time carpenter, his winkel needs were cared for by the winkel crew. Everybody thought his behavior was justified; nobody wanted to work in the jungle or, perhaps more accurately, nobody wanted to be away from the city. His mother fed and clothed him, and there was always someone present at the winkel to provide conversation and something to drink. There were no grumblings as he did not overindulge himself on the free liquor nor in any way flaunt his access to friendly aid. Frankie was expected to behave moderately, find work and reinstate himself. Frankie had provided for others also when they were down and out. There were no tabs kept on Frankie's account 1

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113 and, unless he specifically asked for Sf 10 or Sf 15, he paid nothing hack. His closer friends supported him more than the others, and those of them with more money supported him more than those with minimal funds. Marcus, on the other hand, tried the same thing. His reputation was not nearly as good as FrankieÂ’s; he was considered unreliable and a gossip to boot. Nary a penny did he ever give his old mother, but squandered it on his pleasures. Marcus never bought for others but was ready and quick to accept a gift. When he was laid off his low-paying job as a road worker for the Public Works Department he tried to activate an intrawinkel support network. At first help came in fits and starts with much grumbling, until one Saturday Marcus arrived at the winkel slightly drunk. He began pestering Charlie and Marcell to buy him a d jo go (liter bottle of beer). Irritated with his lack of manners and past record, both refused. Marcus was aware of Marcell's quick temper and concentrated on the less formidable 130 pound Charlie. Unable to stand the badgering, but getting no help from the other men, Charlie departed for home a few short paces down the street. Undaunted, Marcus entered Charlie's house without his knowing and continued pleading now for more beer. Charlie said nothing as Marcus helped himself to an open beer and proceeded to finish it all. Discomforted by the icy silence and lack of beer, Marcus left . Charlie told this story at the winkel the next week,

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114 and everyone agreed that indeed Marcus was a saka— saka (low life). Word spread quickly that Marcus was no good ( takroe ) and by no means should anyone buy him anything. Marcus' participation tapered off during the next three weeks until now he drops by only occasionally on Saturday afternoons — and buys his own beer. He is still greeted by the men but his presence triggers cautious behavior on the part of the crew. A request for extra -winkel aid between two of the winkel crew almost upset a good friendship. Schill was evicted from his house for non-payment of rent during his hard times. He could not stay at his ex-wife's because she was seeing another man. His girlfriend was living in a small house with her blood kin. Schill 's sister was married to a respectable businessman and Schill could not expect her to operate in a lower-class fashion and take him in. Schill asked Marcell if. he could stay at his house and after some hesitation Marcell agreed. At this . particular point Marcell had just moved out of his aunt’s house and set up residence with his concubine. Schill slept on the couch in the sitting room while Marcell and the woman slept in the bedroom attic. Mornings, Marcell went early to work while the woman stayed home. Schill slept late before going out. It was, by local standards, a most suspect relationship. Soon accusations began to fly as Marcell accused Schill of trying to seduce his woman. The neighbors assumed the worst and were spreading stories. Topics once enjoyed in the context of banter and joviality became sharp indictments.

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115 Behind Schill's back, Marcell ridiculed Schill's high manners (he maniri ) in the days before he fell from power to his mating relationship with a woman some twenty years his junior. Fearing even worse trouble with Marcell and shame at the winkel as the charges began to spread, Schill reluctantly borrowed Sf 400 from a political crony and moved into an inexpensive pension. The temporary breakdown of the dyad was re-established when they reverted to their previous, acceptable winkel relationship. Men are paid fortnightly or monthly. During these times they congregate at the winkel with greater frequency and for a longer duration, many times spending a good deal of their wages within a week. Waiting for the next paycheck, a man tapers off his drinking, buys the less expensive beer, and tries to borrow money from one of his women. He also attempts to activate his winkel support networks. Payday is also the time that young women without men and ex-concubines and lovers flit in and out of the winkel to locate exand future lovers. Men who are without money also engage in a similar tactic around payday. The following story, about a man without funds who is seeking money, is often told about "strangers" who enter a winkel . A person enters a winkel and notices another man or men drinking and spending money. He watches for a few moments and sizes up the situation: how much money the man has, with whom he is drinking, etc. The seeker then approaches the man and engages him in a rapid and intense conversation on a topic 1

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116 of common interest (developments in Holland, political news, ethnic problems) upon which the two men will probably be in agreement. If the conversation is agreeable, the seeker may be asked to have a drink. The winkel men are especially leary of this play and only infrequently engage strangers in conversations. After the encounter the seeker asks the proprietor or someone else if the man lives in the area, has a job, and comes to the winkel often. If the answers are satisfactory the seeker returns often to sponge alcohol. Some people, it is claimed, spend.no money on alcohol but have a set routine of bars and winkels they visit where they can sponge free drinks . Some winkel men are also easy marks. Willem for example is always buying drinks for strangers and friends alike. He has no semi-permanent relationship with a concubine or mate on whom he regularly spends a portion of his high salary. After buying drinks for anyone and everyone and paying women for sexual services Willem is penniless by the end of every pay period. On payday Willem is a highly attractive mark and the winkel where he begins his post-payday boozing is loaded with friends. However, the thing that distinguishes Willem from the other men is that he does not invest his capital in any quasi-group, either a winkel crew or a number of femaleheaded households. Willem is a complete loner, and most of relationships he forms last only as long as the alcohol he supplies . 1 »

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117 Strangers , Gossip , and Status Leveling The winkel is home base for these men; rarely do they leave it to explore possibilities elsewhere. New and unexplored places are avoided as complete strangers can approach one of the winkel crew in a strange place and begin a blunt investigation of his background, work, family, ties, and financial situation. In short, you are never safe with strangers; if they are not trying to get your money then they are up to something mean and anti-social. Even in the safety of the winkel , the men will cover their glass and ask friends to keep an eye on it while they momentarily depart. This procedure prevents a stranger placing a poison or charm in the drink. Jules enjoys a special reputation as a singer ( singiman ) . He attends all night wakes ( dede oso ) held by Creoles for their deceased and drawing on his .extensive repertoire of hymns leads the mourners in song. He holds down two jobs, one as watchman and another as a laborer, and it is not an unusual week when he spends 4 or 5 nights singing from 10 p.m. until sunrise instead of at his workpost . By the standards of the winkel men Jules has spread his inter-personal contacts far and wide and this can only lead to trouble, from his all too frequent contact with strangers. One of the frequent and wide spread means of destroying or gaining control of someone is through poison, usually surreptitiously slipped into his drink while in a public place. As a safeguard against this, Jules visited a magician ( bonoeman )

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and secured a protective charm ( tapoe ) which would inform him of the imminence of the danger of poison. One day after a particularly busy week of singing dede oso Jules was walking from work and was hailed from a nearby winkel by someone he didn't recognize. He entered and was offered a glass of rum by men who explained that they had witnessed his singing that week and now wished to praise him with a toast. Jules was suspicious and, although cordial, hesitated to drink. He surveyed the room trying to place everyone. With prompting he lifted the glass to drink. Suddenly his hand began to quiver and the bottom of the glass shattered, spilling the poisoned rum on the table. Without a word Jules arose and left. The tapoe had saved him. When Jules later told us the story in the winkel he noted that he had been getting careless, entering places filled with strangers without thinking. For his own health he decided to limit his drinking only to a circle of close friends and to sing dede oso only for people he knew very well. The men all nodded their heads in silent approval. A few gave reinforcing stories of similar plights. Jules closed the conversation by pointing out that Creoles engage too much in "crab antics" ( kraboe politiek ); when one Creole sees another getting ahead, enjoying a special reputation, or possessing something he himself does not have, he will try and "pull him down." Normally when a person with whom one is not well acquainted enters the winkel, the men alter their conversation momentarily

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119 to avoid reference to gossip or stories about people in the neighborhood or outside their group. Gossip is not for all ears, and women are especially suspected of using maliciously any bit of information they hear or, at the least ridiculing men that have nothing better to do than sit around and gossip. One weekday evening Marcell was involved in a deep discussion with a gardener from the neighborhood. Both men are dark skinned and by all outward manifestations are lower-class. With people of these social characteristics, especially in a winkel atmosphere, Sraran Tongo is the expected language; Dutch would be "putting it on" ( bigi fasi ) . However, the discussion dealt with the pro's and con's of independence for Suriname and both men lapsed into Dutch to lend an air of formality to the debate ( not , as some think, because Sraran Tongo is incapable of expressing such complicated thoughts). The gardenerÂ’s Dutch was halting and riddled with mistakes while Marcell was speaking fluently. At this point a woman from the neighborhood and her two teenage daughters entered the winkel . In mock surprise the two girls turned and stared wide-eyed at Marcell. They laughed. Snickering, they remarked to each other that two black men were conversing in Dutch. The woman kept her back turned. Marcell stopped mid-sentence and stalked furiously over to the two girls. He admonished them, reminding them that they were as black as he, no better than he, and that, if he wanted to, he could speak Dutch. One of the girls casually flipped her head and remarked that she was brown, while the other accused Marcell of being a Bush Negro (Marcell

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120 na wan Djuka , jere ) because Bush Negros are uniformly darker skinned than the mixed-blood Creoles. . Also, city Creoles ( foto soema ) often consider -themselves more sophisticated and worldly than the deprecating stereotype of the unlettered, primitive Bush Negros. Marcell exploded in rage, and, turning to the mother who was nervously ignoring the scenario, asked how her daughter’s ’’marijuana baby" was. The woman grabbed her bundle and bodily ushered the two girls out the door. Marcell had countered victoriously with a piece of gossip, alluding to a "shame story" ( s jen tori ) that brought more loss of respect to them than their remarks had brought to him. The "shame story" referred to one of the teenage girls who had smoked marijuana with a mixed group of friends one evening and had had intercourse with one of them when "high." Finding herself pregnant she claimed she could not remember with whom she had slept that night. The child is now unsupported and unrecognized by its father. One should also be wary of excessive bravado . A member of the group will quickly be cut down to size and belittled if he operates outside or above the boundaries of the status the group has defined as appropriate. This is another aspect of "crab antics." Schill, for instance, is allowed great latitude. He may give forth in Dutch on the most complicated of issues ranging from the revision of the tax structure to knowledgeable insights into various neighborhood personalities. He is allowed the privilege of unsolicited advice and negative 1 »

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121 criticism. Although one of the group, Schill is its high status member. A combination of education, political contacts, and wealth, when he has it, sees to this. There is also the element of charisma — Schill has many of or plays upon the attributes of a "good man," as the winkel crew defines it. Others, however, should mind their status and adjust their behavior accordingly. One day hapless Russel did not. Russel had just received his monthly paycheck, plus a bonus that was promised all government workers during the strikes pf . the preceding months. Going straight to the largest department store in the city, Russel squandered every penny oman expensive radio-cassette tape player. Not one guilder was left over for his woman Betty or to buy alcohol for himself and his companions during the coming days. Russel marched proudly into the winkel with his new possession, and holding it fondly placed it on the glass case. Not a sound was made by the men; they were all eyes. Ordering a beer, he began busily pressing buttons and twirling knobs. He obviously had no idea of what he was doing . After a few more moments of fumbling, Aloi, a non-member of the crew, and a low status person in the neighborhood, arose and walked to Russel. In a remark absolutely unrelated to anything said during the entire morning, Aloi insinuated that Russel was a big-bellied weakling, knew nothing of the art of fighting, and could never defend himself or his close ones if he needed. Russel bowed his head and said nothing.

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122 The men, Marc ell, S chi 11, Frankie and van Kanten, all crew members in good standing, quietly looked on. Further references were made to RusselÂ’s slovenly appearance and lack of manners. Not a mention was made of the new radio. Russel was insulted mightily. Finally, in a last outburst, Aloi said that Russel did not know how to operate the piece and, furthermore, was too dumb to learn. Aloi stalked away and contentedly seated himself in the corner on the periphery of the winkel crew. Russel walked out of the winkel , humiliated. It is not that one cannot bring "status elevating" possessions to the winkel . Elder, the old, political hack and crew member in good standing, once brought in an outrageous shocking pink portable record player, and with great pomp and showmanship played three old and bruised records at earsplitting pitch all evening. No challenge was made. What happened then between Russel and Aloi? Russel is a low status marginal member of the crew. By flaunting his new possession in front of the assembled crew members he was acting out a role both incongruous and disrupting to the internal group status organization. Equilibrium was threatened by Russel's challenge. The in-group crew did nothing; they did not attempt to react to this indiscretion or to re-establish the social order. Rather, it was an outsider, Aloi, who took up the challenge and returned things to where they should be. Contrary to their usual behavior, the in-group crew did not react to a situation that would put them in an ambiguous or disturbing position with other crew members. An outsider,

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123 armed as expected with a personal grievance, was the initiator. As it turned out, Russel had been seeing a lone woman who lived next door to Aloi. Aloi, whose wife had gone to Holland for three months, had been eying this woman as well. There was a latent irritation between the two men that could not be discussed openly. Aloi seized upon Russel's obvious but unspoken misbehavior and in a sanctioned situation voiced a hostility that could not be otherwise vented. In fact he killed two birds with one stone by re-establishing order in the in-group without calling group allegiances into operation and upsetting its internal cohesion. As a marginal Aloi was the ideal "status leveler." Much social camouflage obscured the real issues. Interaction ; Recruitment and Expulsion The winkel in-group crew is not a corporate unit. Even if the men were all together the centrifugal forces of each of their individual networks would deny boundaries. As a result, recruitment and acceptance into this group is relatively easy providing one has the acceptable characteristics. There is no rite of passage, no badge of identity. After close scrutiny and subtle discussion of his qualities, the outsider, be he 25 or 55, finds himself absorbed into conversations and the ritual of drinking and story telling. First, however, he must learn the lore and be able to parry verbally with the rest of the men. This all comes in time as he associates stories with faces and identifies the important or unique personages of the neighborhood. (This assumes that the initiate already knows the national lore — politics, ethnic

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124 groups, etc. — and feels the same way about these topics as the rest. of the men in the winkel do.) Neither his interaction patterns nor sentiments .should be in conflict with or contradictory to the internal organization of the group. Two examples follow. The first deals with recruitment into the winkel crew; the second with an individual's departure. As acceptance and rejection are a group phenomenon, the social interaction must be viewed in light of group ideals, expectations and values. Toriman was employed as a free lance writer until his main buyer folded. Until this time he had only occasionally been to the winkel . and then only for a beer or two. His only contact with the crew was a tenuous acquaintanceship with S chill. Unemployed and supported by his wife's salary of Sf 290 per month, he took the bus into town to his political party headquarters to spend his mornings reading papers and journals. He belonged to a different Creole political party than most of the Creoles at the winkel . but there was talk of them working in combination in the forthcoming election. Were it not for this, it is possible that political hostility might have kept Toriman out of the winkel . On his way home, Toriman would walk through the city to meet people and chat, pick up bits of information and simply engage in the most popular of Surinamese pastimes, walking and talking ( koirie ) . He had to pass the winkel and often stopped in until finally he began showing up daily. Toriman was recognized as being the intellectual equal if not superior

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to Schill and from the beginning assumed a high status position in the group. He had money to buy drinks, offered intelligent commentary, told a good story, was pleasant and polite, minded his own business and, in short, fit the definition of an acceptable man. Toriman engaged all the crew in banter, salutation and drinking. He did not challenge the group* s self justifying sentiment, and his interaction actually reinforced it . It is as easy to depart from the group as it is to enter it. Group structure and function allow for periodic recurrent or non-recurrent absence as well as final departure. Although a crew member, Mr. Rijker was marginal. Domestic demands forced him to devote considerable time and money to his family of wife and children. Stories about the academic success of his children, of whom he is very proud, triggered no response from the crew. Their only real contact with their own children was through the monies they funnel to their mothers. An occasional Sunday morning stroll with one of their children was often the totality of contact these men had with the children they had produced through visiting relationships . Without his wife's knowledge, Mr. Rijker had established credit at the winkel for his drinking. After turning over his paycheck to his wife (.something that the men living in concubinage or engaged in visiting relationships do not do) he would use his surreptitiously earned overtime pay to slowly whittle away at the charges which usually increased

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12.6 faster than he could pay them. This was fine with Chung. Suddenly Mr. Rijker stopped coming to the winkel . Daily he could be seen entering and leaving his house; often he went to another winkel two blocks down the street to do his occasional drinking. Mr. Rijker lives directly across the street from the winkel , but as custom dictates he was never visited at home and inquiries as to his whereabouts were never directed to his wife. The men were not sure what had happened. Although none would inquire, the men soon generated their own explanation. Mr. Rijker' s eldest daughter became pregnant by a despicable fellow up the street. He had always wanted his daughter married before conceiving but Bella followed the standard lower-class pattern. To make matters worse she mated with a fellow whose family had no "respect" and could only bring "shame" to the Rijkers thus detracting from their "reputation. Under no circumstances would they allow the fellow to live with Bella and they were even considering not suing for child support. During this time Mr. Rijker's father was going blind and needed medical attention. Mr. Rijker would shortly face a mountain of bills. At the end of the month Chung began asking everyone for money. Normally he would have let it go longer, but Chung pressured Mr. Rijker realizing he was now a bad credit risk. With family debts increasing, Mr. Rijker could not easily continue his drinking. Chung thought it pointless to extend more credit. Pestering Rijker unmercifully and demeaning 1 •

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127 him in front of the group, Chung made Rijker uneasy. The men did not like what was happening either; Rijker was a backslider, and suddenly all the things that distinguished him from them were brought sharply into focus. He was shamed both on account of his pregnant daughter (whom he had touted so highly — although the others knew better since one of the crew occasionally had intercourse with her) and his inability to pay his bills. He departed and did not show up again. The crew carried on affairs as usual, an occasional comment would be made about his family, his whereabouts or his daughter’s behavior but no one ventured over to his house to re-establish contact. Neither Rijker’ s presence nor, for that matter, anyone else’s is instrumental to the survival of the group. Men cycle into and out of the winkel for a variety of reasons: financial, situational, location in space, etc. One of the determinants guiding recruitment, loss, and replenishment of personnel is age. The men who gather here regularly and share a common pool of temporary resources range in age from 25 to 62. Other winkels in Paramaribo are constituted similarly. Regulars are never younger than their early twenties or beyond their late sixties. There are many teenage males in the neighborhood; fully 49 percent of the total population of Suriname is below the age of 16. Groups of males between 16 and 20 stand on streetcorners, sit in back yards, go for walks, attend movies and dances, and engage in banter with young women in their spare 1 *

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time. The teenagers in this neighborhood have more spare time than other young people from better off neighborhoods who go to school. The young men of lower class background in Frimangron do not patronize the slick and gaudy European oriented bars and . cafes of downtown. They prefer the neighborhood. Besides the teenagers described above, there are five or six others in or around the winkel at least once a day. To a man they are unemployed, have no schooling past the elementary grades, know no trade, have little money, and are supported by their consanguineal kin. The boys have tastes apart from the older men's. They enjoy the outdoor sights and sounds of the city, and look to experience what the city has to offer. They attend dances held on weekends. At birthday parties held usually for older people they can be seen standing as a group. Movies and attendance at special events such as political rallies fill the bill. Teenagers from this neighborhood travel in all male groups. Such young men are ineligible for winkel membership. Although young, their age alone would not bar them from membership. Age categories are flexible, and although there is the sanction of always showing respectto elders, the three generations are always in close and familiar contact. Age grade lines are not sharply defined. Money is a crucial entrance requirement into a winkel crew. Adam, 22 and an army veteran, began to frequent the winkel prior to his decision to migrate to Holland. He

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129 engaged the men in debates on politics and admirably held his own. He discussed with maturity the topics of the day: Hindustanis, Holland, women and money. Although he moved with great ease between the two groups, he was slowly losing contact with his younger peers. Other things were going on with Adam as well, all normal for a person at Adam's point in the life cycle. He was seeing a young woman on a visiting basis far more frequently than the casual liaisons established by his younger friends. He needed money to provide gifts and thus took on two part-time jobs. He did not give any of his meager salary to his mother (in this case he was not expected to as adequate income came from other sources and she was an indulgent woman) . Adam began spending his surplus at the wink el . Although he could not quite afford to bestow a pint of whiskey on the winkel men, he was able to provide for himself. The other teenagers had to wait until they collectively had enough money to buy a drink or else wait until someone offered. Young boys (3-12) returning from school often have a bottle of soda bought for them. Just because a person is without money does not mean he should be denied a pleasure, the men believe. So it is with teenagers also, providing they are not too aggressive and do not wear out their welcome. One unemployed teenager would linger around the winkel looking hungry and forlorn. It was common knowledge that his mother had fallen on hard times and could not provide him with spending money although he was himself capable of working. 1

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130 If offered a glass of beer by one of the men he would complain that he had not yet eaten that day but if they gave him money for a small sandwich he would delightedly join them. The recurring pinch of -ten or twenty-five cents was soon noticed, the boy's reputation sunk and therefore he was ignored. In contrast, Adam was developing a pattern that would soon launch him into winkel life. He had established a good reputation there, had engaged a woman in a semi-permanent visiting relationship that would probably become concubinage and had gone to work. His salary, education and social background made him ineligible for higher circles but made him eminently suited for winkel membership. It is very difficult to stay away from the winkel and avoid spending money. However, Adam solved this problem (and others) by migrating alone to Holland. Should the other teenagers not do this it is difficult to see how they can avoid becoming part of winkel life. A winkel crew is depleted as well as replenished, and one sees few men over 65 as regulars. This in part reflects the weakened physical constitution of old age. Heavy drinking takes its toll and many an old man has staggered home after being caught up in the joviality of a normal, sober afternoon at the winkel . The winkel men have an immense capacity for alcohol — truly astounding — but only occasionally are they bawdy or drunk. Moreover, older men do not have the financial resources of younger men. Only the Surinamese government and the larger businesses provide retirement pensions and

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131 these do not amount to much. There is also a government old age pension for all citizens over 70 years that amounts to Sf 25 per month (Kabinet van de Minister President, 1973h and 1973c). Paramaribo is full of young competitive workers who decrease the older men's chances to supplement income with a part time job. As with the teenagers, old men can occasionally frequent the winkel and buy a bottle of beer or, just as likely, have a drink bought for them. However, they are unable to participate in the on-going exchange networks. There are four broad categories of domestic relationships open for an elderly male that affect his participation in winkel life. He may be living in faithful concubinage or be married to a wife. Being older he will not have as many relationships with outside women and he thus contributes more time and money to his woman or wife. The children of previous unions are adult, thus freeing him from their support. Conjugal unions stabilize for older people, sometimes resulting in marriage in later years. Infrequently he may have dependent consanguines , usually sisters, of his age group that he must help support . The older male may be living with consanguines, generally sisters, children, or collaterals further removed. In such cases he is expected to contribute either goods (money) or services (baby sitting, errands, etc.) to the household. A man who lives with neither a woman nor relatives lives alone. However, he is still dependent on outsiders for

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132 services such as food, laundry and financial contributions. Although some men reside alone, it is misleading and inaccurate to consider their houses one-person households. Many are totally dependent on the services provided by non-residents who form a support network crucial to his survival. If sick, destitute or without family the old man may be put away in an old folk's home as ward of the state. His needs are taken care of by an institution and his mobility is limited by fiat. In the case of both teenagers and elders available financial resources and age act simultaneously as recruitment and expulsion factors. The men who gather in the winkel do not live in a state of poverty. They disburse their money in the winkel , with women ( consanguines and af fines) and on material goods that leave them little surplus. Their social relationships determine the distribution of the money they earn, no matter how much or how little. If the behavior of these men is to be somehow tied into a study of family structure it is far too simplistic to focus only on their position in the "occupational hierarchy." If the "family" is to be considered a "sub-system" which the men as "breadwinners" link to the "larger system of on-going relationships" then the men here link together many such sub-systems and link each in a different manner to on-going society. Many people in Paramaribo are poor. They have inadequate food, clothing and shelter. They do not enjoy nearly 1

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133 the degree of entertainment that the winkel men do. Poor people may be totally unemployed or perhaps run their lives and those dependent on them on less than Sf 50 or 60 a month, income from unguaranteed, unreliable sources. Many of the men in the winke 1 spend at least Sf 100 a month on alcohol and tobacco. Poor men cannot enjoy winkel pastimes. They drop in for drinks only when they have the money. If a man is not working for a salary it is usually the woman (either consanguineal or conjugal, although less often the latter if he makes no money) with whom he stays that sees to it that money enters the house by working part time, hawking fruits and vegetables, seeing other men, or waiting her turn in a rotating credit organization ( kas moni ) . A man with no income is liability quickly dispensed with These men are not eligible for winkel membership. Financially they are inadequate. Many times they are spotted by the winkel crew as moochers who make the rounds of various winke Is a few days after payday to absorb the overflow or on Saturdays when especially heavy drinking takes place. The crew is cautious with strangers and poor people who come to the winkel "looking for something." The poorer men, when not at the winkel , drink in back yards, or seek out birthday parties and wakes where food and alcohol are served. It is standard for Creoles to watch out for strangers who come to your parties uninvited ( bo roman ) ; they are only there to snoop, possibly steal, and certainly

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134 to eat, drink, and leave ( njan , dringi , gowe ) . Males, middle class and higher, by virtue of the type and variety of their social contacts and networks as well as their salaries, come only occasionally to the winkel . It should be recalled that, in terms of salaries, many of the "lower-class” winkel men make a good deal more money than their middle class counterparts. There is a good deal of salary overlap between the two groups. The structural distinctions are what concern us here. The winkel is very heterogeneous and it comes as no surprise to see a poor man in the same winkel with a welldressed bureaucrat. Language and demeanor are polarized, yet the middle class man knows better than to act haughtily and arrogantly. Although there are obvious status distinctions between its clientele, the winkel is a place where the myth of social equality is fostered. In contrast, the middle class male has liens on his resources that mitigate against a full blown winkel participation. Two crucial variables are time and money. The middle class male is more likely to be involved in a bureaucratic or assembly line job that requires strict adherence to a regimented time schedule. To avail himself of promotions, salary increases, and fit into the general process of upward mobility he must comply by demands and use his time judiciously. Winkel men are not so concerned with this strategy; given their education and background many have progressed as far as they can go. (In the case of Schill who resorted to the

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135 winkel with his high education and so forth, his behavior could be considered a temporary strategy. He had temporarily — until there was a new government — "sunk.' 1 ) It would also blemish the middle class man's reputation to hang out in a winkel : drinking, carousing, wasting money and wenching. "Of course," people say, "he is a man and therefore destined to do this sort of thing occasionally," but a too frequent display of this sort of behavior could only bring shame and tarnish to a middle class reputation. The middle class man is usually married, and aside from his work must devote time to wife and family. He is required to support his legal wife and chidlren. Education must be paid for, clothes and books purchased, and a proper home environment created. He is involved in a long term, on-going series of relationships that are sanctioned by law and custom. Automatically he is forced to consolidate his social and economic capital. Most of the socializing middle class males do takes place in clubs, either those affiliated with his place of work or open through private membership. Parties with friends and relatives are important. Middle class men often take their wives along when going out. In short, their interaction patterns and the groups they form are on a 5 scale far different from that of the winkel men. Although the winkel men prefer gathering at the winkel , there are other places to which they go. They do not go as a group and only some of them frequent other establishments .

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136 An enterprising person, usually a' woman, can convert her back yard into a clandestine drinking "garden" ( sopi tenti ) . Usually this results from capitalizing on a building already there or from one specially built for a birthday celebration. Small places such as this abound, and some of the men have a favorite several blocks away. This sopi tenti is a four-sided building with wood walls five feet high and a corrugated tin roof supported by ten foot poles. It measures about thirty feet by thirty feet and was built eight years ago to properly encase the dancing festivities for its owner's fiftieth birthday. Checkerboards, dominoes, and playing cards are provided, as well as a record player which booms both Surinamese music and American "soul." All ages of men gather here to talk, drink and play games. The tenti , however, is more a diversion than a common meeting ground for the winkel crew. Only a few from the winkel go there with any regularity and only when they are passing through that part of the neighborhood. Charlie the auto mechanic lives next door to the winkel and owns a portable shuffle board game. Some of the men drop over nightly to play a few turns, for Charlie is a good man and also sells beer from his refrigerator. However, there are usually too many teenagers about waiting their turn to play and the men drift back to the winkel where they find it more comfortable. The men go to the movies, some two or three times a

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137 week. They usually go alone, neither with other winkel men nor women. (Teenagers go in groups while middle class men f go with their wives.) The movies cost Sf .75 for the cheapest seats and are not prohibitively expensive. Grade B American movies are the usual fare. Most of the men believe in the Afro— slave religious cult called " winti , " although, of these, not all are active practitioners. They occasionally go into the rural districts on weekends either to participate in or watch the dance rites. This is an important facet of Surinamese life and it must be understood if one is to appreciate the Creole population. Space does not permit its coverage here. For an ethnography of the winti cult in Suriname see Wooding, 1972. The winkel men often are drawn out of town, independent of one another, to attend these ceremonies and sometimes make large financial contributions for the organization and execution of the ceremonies when relatives are involved. Professional prostitutes are rarely engaged by winkel men. In two years, only two of the men did so. There is really no need to seek out a street walker who nightly ply themselves in downtown Paramaribo. The winkel men have a number of women and spending Sf 7 to Sf 15 for a visit with a whore is considered an injudicious use of money. A careful distinction should be made here. When a man pays a prostitute for sexual services rendered, he then terminates the "single stranded" relationship. It is not long term or ongoing and he very likely may never see her again. The

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133 relation is for one purpose only and then dissolved. The men do divide up large amounts of money among the women with whom they have sexual relations. These women are not prostitutes but are engaged in on-going, short or long term, multi-faceted, and reciprocal relationships with the men. The men do not have sexual intercourse with these women every time they give them money nor do they give them money every time they have sexual intercourse. The relationship is a visiting relationship with rights and responsibilities recognized by both parties. The woman provides services for the man: sex, food, laundry, a boost to his ego and male reputation, children, etc., while the male provides gifts and financial support. Couched in economic terms these male-female relationt ships may lie dormant until one party or the other has need. The contact may be activated. by either the male or the female, for females manipulate resource strategies as well as men. It is relatively easy to terminate the relationship if children have not resulted. Otherwise, it endures in diminished form. The relationships have a time depth. They reach into the future with (the possibility of) children necessitating long term aid and contact. These visiting relationships may progress into temporary concubinage, faithful concubinage or even marriage. One thing emerges from looking at these men and others like them in Paramaribo. They are lower class in their orientation, pastimes, social relationships, life styles

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139 and use of time. They are not poor; being poor would deny them access to the, winkel sub-culture. They have money but, for many of them, neither enough of it nor the appropriate skills to extricate themselves from a not unpleasant life. The children they father and the males who are now younger than they will be caught up in this life style that is based largely on sub-cultural traditions (the mating system), exclusion from macro-structural resources (education and prestigious jobs), and adaptation (reliance on a wide web of kin and friends for mutual support). The men who gather here do so because they have refused to commit themselves to one household. The winkel , located midway between downtown and the household, is the one accessible, neutral point in space where these men can congregate for comfortable and non-threatening interaction. They are marginals in the occupational hierarchy and the household; here at the winkel they are full time members, each with his own special reputation and identity. The winkel men have no particular or enduring tie to one another. This is particularly true in ext ra -winkel activities. The relationships that each man forms with other men of the winkel group are loose, shifting, short term, and not totally commital. The next chapter demonstrates that this same interaction pattern is replicated when men deal with women within the household group. There is no sharp bifurcation of interaction rate and style when men deal with men or women; both groupings replicate the 1

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140 same patterns and mutually reinforce one another.^ The next chapter treats the mesh between winkel and household. Not all the men have established the same type of relationships with their respective household( s ) . Size of economic disbursal, frequency of contact, location in space, consanguineal or affinal connection, duration of contact, and number of household contacts vary from man to man. To grasp the full round and nature of male life it is imperative to explore the nature of household contacts. Some of the case studies in the next chapter deal entirely with men and the household groups they engage in. Other case studies follow the doctrinaire "West Indian" pattern and deal principally with women and children. It should be kept in mind that these case studies deal with women in the absence of men.

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141 NOTES: CHAPTER III 1. For a definition of the Suriname Florin (Guilder), see Chapter I, Chapter Note 6. 2. Although I am not convinced 'of the analytical precision such a model offers, it is suggested that those interested^ in Caribbean social organization refer to Wilson (1973) and his discussion of "respectability" and "reputation" _ as behavioral guidelines for females and males respectively. 3. I have seen incidents that would bring a North American to blows: a drunk vomiting on one's trousers; clear instances of pilferage and theft; lying and cheating, and so forth. However, the Creole in these _ circumstances _ generally does very little besides casting a disparaging glance and waiting for the trouble to go away. Yet, in other instances, accidentally bumping into someone and knocking an orange out of their basket brings forth wrath unmatched by the Furies. The fallen orange is not the object in question. As the crowd gathers and the contestants go head to head, scandalous incidents and condemning accusations are brought forth as evidence of the other's low and unworthy character. A study of these verbal battles (kroetoes) reveals that the litigants have a long history of a" mutuaTIy unsavory relationship. * 4. It is conceivable that someone would suggest that if salaries were increased then the men would be able to support winkel pastimes and also have enough reserve to make a compete" commitment to their current household. This is doubtful. Once at a political rally a speaker was discussing corruption in high places. He told the story of an official who embezzled over a million guilders. "What," cried one of my lower class friends, "you can really have a lot of women with that money." "Rational" western economics does not apply everywhere . 5. For an interesting discussion of middle and upper class black male clubs, see Manning, 1973* Their groupings are^ quite different, in symbol and structure, from those of the winkel men. 6. For discussions of inter-action' theory see Arensberg and Kimball, 1965; Chappie and Coon, 1942; and Homans, 1950.

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CHAPTER IV THE FAMILY, HOUSEHOLD, AND DOMESTIC UNIT AS ACTION SET AND QUASI-GROUP . Th e winkel is an enjoyable place to be. There is friendship and laughter. The men are mutually supportive by their very presence and their common symbolic behavior. Reputation is built and perpetuated here. Yet, in many ways, these men are not so much dependent upon each other as they are upon their women. They have implicitly agreed upon one unspoken rule to guide intra -winkel behavior and relationships with one another: J oe moesoe de boen nanga soema , ma joe no moesoe foe poeroe joe bere gi den . (You must get along with people, but you must not tear out your insides for them.) People admit that this is the general rule that guides all social relationships, especially mat i (male friends in this case) relationships. People must always keep something secret and apart for themselves. No one is to be told or given everything. Some day the relationships will break apart, as all do, and the information once given in good faith will be used against you. The men in the winkel are friends, and they get along well, but they have not made a commitment to each other that they some, day may be unable to meet . Men are most easily located singly or in groups at the winkel . However, their more important "survival" relationships are with other people in other places. These are relationships 142

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143 with a number of women consanguines and conjugals residing f in many households. The men, although removed in space and in infrequent and sometimes nonrecurrent contact with these households, participate in crucial reciprocal arrangements with these sedentary nodes of social capital. Out of the fifteen or so men who compose the winkel crew, not one participates in the family, household or residential affairs of any of the other men. When day is done they return separately to other places independently of one another. There is no cooperation after the day’s festivities at the winkel . Thus the importance of women is thrown into sharp relief. Winkel behavior and household behavior are not mutually exclusive for males. There is a great deal of overlap; and what goes on in one arena replicates, complements and reinforces what goes on in the other. To understand lower class social organization, both interaction areas, household and winkel, must be understood. From the preceding discussion of male behavior in time and the shifting relationships they form with "others" — friends, consanguines, conjugals, etc — from their " winkel base" it should be clear that the static formulations of family, household, and residential group, are inadequate for a study of lower class forms (Bender, 1967). A model, based largely on the flexibility of network theory, must be constructed to deal with the oscillations and alterations of shifting group boundaries and composition. This chapter grapples with this

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144 methodological and empirical problem and deals with house hold, family, and domestic unit as action set and quasigroup . Throughout their life cycles males form a series of contacts with women. In their childhood and youth household and domestic relationships are usually with clusters of con— sanguineally related men and women. Adolescent and adult years lead to mating and many authors have posited a developmental mating cycle from early extra— resident ial mating, through concubinage and faithful concubinage, to, perhaps, marriage (see for example M. G. Smith, 1962) . I do not quarrel with this formulation other than that ito linear progression is a bit misleading in its simplicity. In short, extra-residential mating does not necessarily process into concubinage; the possibilities are many. (See Freilich, 1961) Old age leads males to establish relationships with either faithful concubines or consanguineal kin. Men that fail to do so may end their lives as wards of the state. The following discussion deals with the household-domestic relationships of the adult wage-earning males in the winkel . When, where and with whom do these men join when they establish domestic relationships? Approached dynamically we can see that males establish a series of relationships with a number of households over time. It emerges that the networks males form with women bundle together groups of households dispersed over space into larger on-going units. The action set, quasi— group formulation is useful in

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145 approaching these data. The bogey man of Caribbeanists i interested in family has been how to deal with householddomestic units dispersed over space, articulated along erratic time schedules, continually changing in personnel, and characterized by shifting boundaries that deny mapping. The process of recruitment of males into household clusters, the contacts they activate, deactivate and reactivate over time are instrumental in understanding the process. Interaction viewed over time indicates that women related as uterines stay together in one spot or, if separated, maintain very close and intense ties. On the other hand, men as consanguines or temporary conjugals, appear and reappear in marginal, sometimes extra-residential, relationships. Household-Winkel Interaction The household and winkel are sedentary points in space in a temporal field of shifting social relationships. There are, however, regular reappearing types of arrangements that tie the winkel to dispersed households and households to other households. The urban lower class family, household, and domestic group may be visualized as a social field of changing social relationships spanning many households, linked together at points of regular male congregation. Geneologically, kinship ties males economically to a number of households. By birth a male gains membership in a bilateral kindred distributed over space. ^ The kindred is not localized nor is it bounded or corporate. However, a male can strategically activate these geneological ties for

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146 purposes of establishing a support network (occasional residence, domestic services, inheritance rights and privileges, etc.)* Reciprocal support is provided most usually through his female consanguines . It is quite normal, for instance, for a male at the termination of a concubinage relationship to reside temporarily at the home of one of his female consanguines and to temporarily become a vital member in that domestic group. (See Marcell 's case study.) Rules of descent and inheritance complement ego's membership in a kindred. Movable property and real estate are passed on bilaterally to off-spring. With parents dying intestate all full siblings, recognized legally by the father, receive equal shares of the patrimony. Children automatically inherit from their mothers. Half siblings of the same mother are not functionally distinguished; the only difference is that they would, if recognized by the father ( erkennen ) , inherit property from different fathers. Real estate, traditionally, is impartable and the result is "sibling land" '(Clarke, 1957) with each sibling gaining the right to live on and exploit the plot of ground. Informal negotiations usually result in the sibling without house or land of his or her own assuming control of the deceased parent's (or parents') property. The right usually devolves upon females who tend to remain with their mothers after a series of extra-residential, concubinal relationships. They in turn maintain the households in space to which their brothers may return. Absent siblings are not denied their traditional

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147 rights of exploiting a plot of ground. Should a will have been drawn up then its stipulations must be followed. Wills, however, are only infrequently drawn up. (See Myra and RudolfÂ’s case study.) Usually, when the male is an adult wage earner, he leaves his consanguineal household to establish a household with a concubine (perhaps maintaining a number of extraresidential mates as well) . The possibilities are many; he may return frequently to his consanguineal household for material services, return only occasionally to make remittances or he may virtually ignore his consanguineal household. The latter alternative is considered heinous by lower class Creoles who feel it is a moral responsibility for a man to contribute to his mother's upkeep. If the male has inherited nothing and his consanguines live on rented land his return to them is less sure. He must have something substantial to contribute to the household. Although children are expected to support their parents, the link between a man and his children may be tenuous especially if the man has engaged in a number of mating relationships with different women throughout his life. Extra-residential mating and concubinage tie a man affinally and consanguineally to a large number of households. If such a relationship is physically terminated the male is still responsible by law to provide support for the children he made with different mothers. Child support is enforced by the government and, until the child's maturity, 1

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14 # the male is responsible to make remittances to the households where his progeny reside. It is not expected that these households provide residential services for the male. A sensitive point between a man and his current concubine is that oometimes a substantial portion of his income is siphoned off from her household to provide support for another household. Two general residential alternatives materialize: the male resides with his consanguines or resides with a concubine in a household away from his and her consanguines. It should be realized that even if a man lives with a women in a neo-local concubinage relationships, his concubine never loses contact with her consanguines . Mating relationships persist with some tenacity although the physical contact between males and females may be infrequent and irregular. Although the male is required to support only the children, he may regularly make remittances to the woman if he chooses to maintain the relationship as potentially act ivatable . The relationships may then lie dormant, only to become reestablished when it suits one or the other's strategies . The mating system which sanctions multiple and simultaneous extra-residential mating, visiting, concubinage, and marriage within the context of a bilateral kinship system has resulted in each ego, male or female, being surrounded by a network of ex— mates with whom children may or may not have been produced. The kindred and descent group becomes

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149 broadened as spouses, lovers, fathers, mothers, children, siblings, . half siblings, etc. leave home and reside m dispersed households. Huge amounts of capital, goods and services flow into households along these lines from nonresidents . ^ Ritual assemblage draws men back to the sedentary house' hold group. Birthdays, wakes and spirit cult ceremonies (winti or spirit cult dances, see Wooding, 1972) draw men regularly to their consanguineal kin. Contributions and services are exchanged. Birthdays are the most important recurrent life cycle rites. Every fifth celebration for an adult Creole calls for a lavish expenditure of time and money to organize and expedite a party drawing together dispersed kindred and portions of the cognat ic descent group . 3 Although prior contact may have been minimal, males attend the gatherings. Wakes function in the same capacity. As a member of many overlapping cognatic descent groups (a person is a member of as many cognatic descent groups as he has apical ancestors) a male is geneologically tied to a large number ‘ of living and dead ancestors. It is impossible to include ego in any sort of permanent, corporate, ancestor focused descent group. However, the death of a cognate identifies a bounded group of descendants of the deceased and, for the purposes of executing the ritual, brings into b~ing a temporarily identifiable group of co-descendants. The mechanism that identifies this group is not an internal

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150 rule of kinship itself, but an extra-kinship action that triggers the definition of a temporary, bounded descent group. Ego’s participation may be negligible or intense. With the execution and end of the ceremony, this sub-cognatic descent group dissolves back into the larger on— going descent group. ' Ritual assemblage for the purpose of executing the winti (spirit) cult dances and ceremonies draws males into contact with larger groups of relatives some of whom may be useful to him. An individual or a family can sponsor a winti pre (spirit play) for the purpose of reestablishing individual or group equilibrium. ^ Spirits, which were inherited bilaterally through the descent groups by individuals, are "served" and worshipped during group congregations and states of possession. Males attend these rites and are spiritually and socially reunited with their relatives, ancestors and deities in a brief, but intense, ritual or series of rituals. Through the ritual schedule of birthdays, wakes, and spirit dances it may be incumbent upon the male to donate goods, services and/or capital. For lower class Creole males who have marginal and shifting relationships (or at least the lack of total commitment) to their affinal households, most of their ritual resources are allocated to consanguines. In one of the case studies that follows, a winke 1 man has established a close and stable household with his woman. Yet he participates only marginally (he merely

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151 attends) in the rituals held by her consanguines . The other winkel men whose ties to their current mates are not nearly as regular do not participate in the ritual affairs of their mate's blood kin. (See Josha and Adolf's case study.) Child loaning ( kwetchi pikin ) is a widespread phenomenon among lower class Creoles and acts as a transgenerat ional link between dispersed households. Although this does not articulate the winkel directly with households, it does serve to establish links between groups of women who normally resort to child loaning in the absence of men as providers. Clubs and voluntary associations are women's fare and act as channels drawing females and female-headed households into contact with one another. These organizations have rules, recruitment policies, ensignias, symbols, meeting places, scheduled activities and multi-faceted functions. Creole Suriname is not devoid of organizations beyond the household, nor are lower class women limited in their movement to house, hearth and market. (See Betty and Russel's case study.) The clubs provide instrumental services aside from what their fancy titles would presuppose. At the completion of a club meeting, the relationships do not dissolve until the next meeting, but remain full and in force, keeping clusters of women in contact with one another. Dynamic links serve to articulate the winkel and households and households with each other. For the male, the most instrumental of these are his consanguineal kinship networks and his mating relationships with a number of women. 1

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152 Networks of economic exchange and support, temporary residence sat isfaction of domestic services, access to property, and mechanisms for ritual assemblage are embedded in the relationships. However, to fully grasp the nature of the relationships and their content, they must be viewed over time as the process of activating, deactivating and reactivating of these social contacts unfolds in an environment of winkel, household and neighborhood. What does go on in the household affects winkel behavior and vice versa. The men are marginal to their households and » the equilibrium of the relationships they form with women is subject to frequent disturbances: departures, reentries, quarrels, animosities. The men need to interact with other men to compensate for disturbances in the households in which they had interacted and do so along male channels already in existence. The winkel acts as a shock absorber while males alter and readjust their interaction rates with women and households . Following Chappel and Coon (1942: 41$) the winkel could be considered as a form of association: a group of people (males) who have established the same type of relationship with others (women) and with each other (marginal males) and have begun to interact regularly on this basis. The males’ winkel participation is a function of his household situation. When there is a shock in the household it is absorbed in the winkel. The winkel as association allows the men to make adjustments to disturbances in other institutions (e.g., change »

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153 in household membership, loss of job, etc.) by allowing compensatory interaction in a neutral area. (See George's case study.) A series of case studies follow: each one touching generally on the points made above. The winkel and the household should be visualized as closely related points in space about which everything else revolves. | Case Studies Jules Every night, if he is not visiting a women or leading the singing at an all night wake, Jules returns alone to his house, a two room cottage. Morning finds him on his way to work. Jules, at 3$> is a likable fellow and most of the people in Frimangron know him and enjoy his company. He has a number of women with whom he has relations, and his presence is always welcomed by the winkel crew. Without following Jules' movements closely it would appear that he lives in a "single person household"; but Jules, as well as most people who live alone, relies on a group of people spread wider than the residential parameters of his cottage. Jules and John were born in the same neighborhood and became inseparable friends. They both got jobs at the American Aluminum company and brought home handsome salaries. Jules, however, was distracted by his singing chores which he clearly loved, and would often show up late or not at all

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154 for work. He was soon discharged while John remained on. Eight years ago John began living with Henrietta in concubinage. They have produced two children. A house and back yard were bought (in John's name) and they live happily there . Anytime day or night (when Jules can get off work) will find Jules sitting behind John's house talking, eating and drinking. After work John and Jules get together, pool their money and buy a quantity of beer. They sit until the late hours; Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays find the atmosphere more festive. During the banter Henrietta serves meals: chicken, rice, vegetables, soups and bread. Jules can also stop by any time during the day and have a bite to eat. Henrietta also does Jules' washing and ironing and when Jules has need of a domestic service he is either unfamiliar with or chooses not to do he can call upon Henrietta. Jules does not have sexual access to Henrietta; their relationship falls into the realm of the domestic. Jules has other women for his sexual needs . Jules contributes to this "nuclear family household." Monies are regularly given weekly to John and irregularly when extra food and drink must be provided for spontaneous and planned activities. HenriettaÂ’s birthday party found Jules doing most of the errands and organizing most of the activities (shopping, music arrangement, beer delivery, etc.). Jules, with his mechanical abilities, also does odd jobs

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155 around his host's house. He is forever fixing a motorcycle, iron, fence post, or .some other broken item, while John is at work. Sporadic gifts to the children and his own ability to inspire good fun fill out Jules' fare of contributions. This relationship could convert itself into Jules' full time residence if need be, (Occasionally if he drinks too much and does not choose to ride his motorcycle home, Jules stays the night . ) Jules is a very important member of this group, and without them his life would be considerably difI ferent. (The furnishings of Jules' house consist of nothing more than a frame bed and mattress; not even a hot plate stands in his kitchen,) It is suggested that if Jules ever broke off with John and Henrietta he would have to associate with a concubine in some sort of residential-domestic arrangement . The "single person household" may not be what it seems. Investigation, going further than questionnaires, reveals a complex of relationships flowing out of the "single person household" and connecting it to other residential-domestic loci. The parameters of this network would delineate a sort of survival group. Set in the context of certain needs that have to be fulfilled, and manifested in processural and multifaceted relationships, the dynamics of lower class adaptation strategies suggest that the concept of "single person household" is both inaccurate and misleading.

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156 Schill A brief description of Schill, one. of the winkel crew with high aspiration goals, was given in Chapter III. Only a brief recapitulation will be given here. Schill lives with a boarder. Both men are in their middle forties and aside from co-residence have virtually no social contact. The house, a small, modest, concrete block affair is furnished sparsely. A record player and couch adorn the sitting room, a bed and dresser complete the bedroom, and a refrigerator that is always empty sits in the kitchen. Schill satisfies many of his needs elsewhere. His ex-wife often feeds him and regularly does his laundry. In return, Schill pays her alimony and child support for his daughter. Schill goes regularly to his sister's house to pick up food that is prepared for him. He is usually dressed down by his middle class sister for his lifestyle and drinking habits. Schill has three girl friends, but the one he sees most often is Marsha. They have been visiting for two years and everyone in the heighborhood is familiar with the relationship. She regularly spends weekends, and some weekdays, at Schill' s. Aside from sleeping with him, Marsha also straightens up the house . One variation in Schill 's exchange of services with Marsha distinguishes him from other winkel men. Most lower class men make actual cash contributions to their women. Marsha is young and has a fair paying job for a woman of her

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157 Marriage V Visiting Divorced o Residence l ) Sexual Services Financial • • • Support i i • • Domestic Assistance FIGURE TEN SCHILL’S RELATIONSHIPS 1

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15 # age and background. Schill does not bestow cash, but takes her places: to clubs, bars, dance halls, and occasional parties. A good escort, he buys her food and drink and introduces her to people far outside the winkel circle. Therefore, Schill is a "class apart" from the other men in the winkel . It would be difficult to suggest what would come of Schill' s residential and reciprocal patterns if he were thrown into a truly marginal situation. He has no firm anchors other than his well paying job. At this point he has no need of such social anchors, persons in a broader field of personal kindred and exploitable "others." He is largely self-sufficient. As long as Schill continues to make his salary he will not be faced with the contingencies to which the other people of Frimangron must continually adapt by surrounding themselves with groups of personnel in action sets . Richard A young man of 24, Richard lived with his mother's sister until he met Eleanor. They were immediately fond of one another and all parties concerned realized that their visiting relationship would process into something more permanent . Prior to his relationship with Eleanor, Richard spent a good deal of time in the winkel , and although interacting mostly with the older pre -winkel teenagers and the younger members of the winkel crew (his age and slightly older), he " ' ' ' 1 "" 1 '

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159 was fast being absorbed into winkel life . He was eminently eligible, always. with some money in his., pocket, being the proper age, and possessing a friendly personality. One thing, however, distinguished Richard from the other men. Although spending substantial sums. at the winkel , he always set aside a bit for future acquisitions. Recently he bought an old used car for Sf 900. He wanted more from life . Eleanor's mother was in Coronie and Eleanor, to pursue her career as a teacher and continue her education at night school, lived in Paramaribo with one of her mother's sisters.As a truck driver and part-time taxi driver, Richard's income was adequate to plan a future. Everyone was satisfied with his diligence and pleasant demeanor. In proper form, Richard approached Josha, EleanorÂ’s aunt, and asked to take Eleanor to live in concubinage. Josha sought the advice of her mother and everyone agreed that Eleanor's mother would agree to the union. Richard promised to marry Eleanor after he saved enough money to build and furnish a proper house. For the time being they would live in a small house loaned to Richard by his sister. For seven months they lived together, both working and saving. Eleanor became pregnant, and plans were made for a wedding after she recovered from childbirth. The house was near completion and relatives would loan furnishings. Richard spent less .and less time at the winkel One or two days a week after work he would stop by for conversation

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160 and a drink. His participation in crew affairs, however, was flagging measurably. He rarely engaged in the reciprocal drinking. Saturdays found him hard at work on his new house. Tragedy struck when Eleanor was hit and killed by a drunken driver. The two families gathered and performed the rituals to usher her safely to the spirit world (for a discussion see the case study of Josha and Adolf in this chapter) . Richard, distraught and grieving, swore never to look at another woman. He disposed of the nearly completed house. During the second major period of mourning (the first 6 months after death) Richard continued working. He took his meals and had other services performed at his sister's. He had always been on good terms with Eleanor's family and stopped by frequently to visit them. They helped him immensely in the trying days of the wake by rotating (older women) to stay the night with him. (During the eight day period after death the house is to be kept open and the principal mourners are not to be left alone.) During this period Eleanor's family acted beyond normal protocol (in fact they acted like consanguineals ) and cared for Richard who was alone in Suriname except for one sister. The older women in Eleanor's family discounted Richard's statements about never looking at another woman. They all knew better, both about men and the human condition in general. Slowly, Richard's visits dwindled off to occasional greetings and accidental meetings. He returned ever more frequently to the winkel , and in 1

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the absence of interaction with his lover participated more intensely with the men. At the same time he reestablished residence with his maternal aunt. His domestic responsibilities only involved sleeping there more often than not, eating the afternoon meal and remitting funds every two weeks . The winkel absorbed the shock of Richard's abruptly disturbed interaction. From his new winkel base, Richard began visiting young ladies. Equilibrium had been reestablished. Josha and Adolf Adolf, Josha and five of their six children live in the heart of Frimangron . They are both in their forties and live well by neighborhood standards. With casual observation it would appear that Josha does not work and that the family, adequately provisioned from Adolf's salary, is a viable nuclear unit. Important social networks emanate from Josha and Adolf, however, while equally important structural links couch the household in a larger group. With great frequency and regularity a kindred congregates at their home drawing together relatives for occasional coresidence, economic cooperation and ritual assemblage. To understand the structure and ethos of Josha and Adolf's life is not to study the nuclear family, but rather a larger grouping that defines itself through recurrent and nonrecurrent rhythms of interaction. Adolf's winkel behavior was briefly described in the

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162 preceding ' chapter. Although he spends a good deal of time at the winkel (about 15 to 20 hours a week), more than some of the crew members, Adolf is considered marginal to the winkel crew. Of the entire crew, Adolf has the most frequent and intense relationship with his household. His relation. \ ship with his woman also spans the longest duration; Adolf is married and living with his wife, the only winkel man to be so . Adolf is committed to providing support and affection for his wife and children. He has also committed his time and part of his salary to a train of his wife's consanguineal kindred. His link to households other than his own is not so much his own doing, but reflects the obligations and responsibilities exercised by his wife to her blood kin. The following events illustrate the cohesion of Adolf's household and its extra-household links. The discussion will deal largely with Adolf's affines (Josha's consanguines ) . Adolf's financial contributions, more than his physical presence, are instrumental to the interaction of this group. The household to which he belongs and to which he gives his support is a stable urban base for a widely dispersed group of people. Three examples follow. In order, they deal with ritual congregation, occasional residences and economic support. Eleanor, Josha's sister's daughter, was killed in a car accident late one Sunday evening. At sunrise the next day -Josha's three young sons were sent out to spread the

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163 word and to gather the participants together to organize the death ritual. One son went to the telegraph station to wire EleanorÂ’s mother (Josha's sister) in the Coronie district and to place the death announcement on the radio. The others took buses to the rural districts to notify Josha's sister Milly and Josha's mother. Josha's brother, who owns a car, was given the chore of notifying the state; Eleanor's death had to be registered and her name crossed from the great books. Josha's mother's sister, Harriet, a market woman, was at the house when the tragedy occurred and was privy to the first news. She went to console Richard, Eleanor's concubine. Richard's mother was in Holland and his sister could not stay by his side as custom dictates someone must. Harriet, unrelated to Richard, assumed this role. Josha's home became a locus of ritual activity. It was not the first time that this group of people gathered, either temporarily or permanently, at Josha's home for the two week period of ceremonies that followed. At other times, some or all of these people had been present. Their relationships are multifaceted and mutually dependent. On Monday night the following people were present at Josha's to discharge their responsibilities. It is at Josha's home they would eat, sleep and commiserate . Josha, Adolf, the five children, her mother, her mother's man, her mother's sister, her two sisters (one being the mother of the deceased), a sister's son, a sister's daughter,

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164 a loan child (son of Josha's demented brother), and her two brothers . Naturally others, kith and kin, stopped by as well and v their presence tended to camouflage the presence of the household core group. Through the days that followed these peripheral "others" would be shed while new ones arrived. The core personnel remained the same. Josha's mother and her sister Harriet would soon begin to direct the ceremony and dictate tradition to the younger participants. Josha's mother, Thelma, never left the house for her horticultural plot in the Para district. Jan, her man, went twice for a few hours to check on the bananas, oranges and root crops, but returned quickly to play out his role as a ritual elder, although his relationship to the aggrieved was affinal. Milly, Josha's other sister (not the mother of the deceased) , and her daughter Marko stayed on in the city to act as attendents for the other mourners. They cooked, mended, washed, ironed, cleaned and minded the children. Lilly's man stayed on in their small village and did not attend the ceremonies. The mother of the deceased (Josha's full sister) left her man (who was not the father of the deceased) in Coronie and with her son stayed on for four months at Josha's house. She could not bear returning to an unhappy house far from consoling relatives with only her man to comfort her. Besides, the death of her daughter was a tragedy and the 1

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167 spirit world was upended. She felt she needed the advice and services of a bonoeman , the best of whom she thought were located in the city. Harriet ceased going regularly to the market for her work as vendor and went only occasionally to investigate price changes. She stayed either at Josha's or with Richard. He required constant company and surveillance during the eight day period immediately following the death of his woman. Whether ritual demands it or not Harriet spends three or four nights a week at Josha's house. When her man is out on fishing trips and leaves her alone, Harriet packs up all her valuables and like a huge hermit crab lumbers down to stay at Josha's for the duration of the expedition. Edwin, Josha's brother, works for the government and was given a few days off to assist his family. People in Suriname usually walk or take a bus, but with time telescoped, Edwin's car was needed to swiftly contact the radio station, church officials, the specialists who wash and prepare the body, hospital officials, and so forth. People also had to be chauffeured to rituals; the last few words whispered to the corpse before it was washed, the funeral, nightly wakes, and various other magical ceremonies. Edwin showed up two or three times a day. Nights he would return to his wife and children. During all this activity Adolf was around. He knew Josha's kin and had a warm reciprocal relationship with all of them. However, during this period he spent most of his 1

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168 time talking and wringing his hands while the women went about the important matters at hand. He took three days off prior to the funeral and did some of the shopping and bill paying downtown. When the women were especially busy, he would excuse himself and go to the winkel . For two weeks the boundaries of Josha's nuclear family household expanded to encompass nine more people. There was no trauma; Creole social organization can adequately deal with such a contingency. Roles were quickly assigned and housekeeping went on as usual. All present contributed money, goods and labor to the newly organized unit. The household and wider kindred core which congregated for initial purposes gathers regularly for other activities as well. Occasional residence and economic support draws this group together. However, for these two activities the group never assembles as a complete unit as it did for the ritual. Two examples follow. On any day a visit to JoshaÂ’s house would find one of the above mentioned core personnel present. Millie, JoshaÂ’s sister, comes to the city once a week to do her shopping and takes her meals and sleeps over night at Josha's. When a problem with the bureaucracy arises, and MillyÂ’s presence is required, she uses Josha's house as an urban home base as well. Marko, Milly's daughter, households frequently at Josha's. She is young (19) and fond of city life. Recently she broke up with her third man and has neither house nor support. Not choosing ^tq return to the districts she stays

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169 with Josha and earns her keep doing chores. Nelia, mother of the deceased, resides only infrequentl with Josna. Periodic trips to the city bring her into contact three or lour days at a time. However, she activated this contact to its full intensity during the mourning period and resided with Josha for more than four months. Nelia also has a son, Roy. Twelve years old, he has a reputation for getting into trouble. Nelia could not control him in Coronie (because she was working full-time) and two years ago sent him to live wioh Josha as a kwetchi pikin (loan child) . Glenn resided with Josha for two years until she found that city life had made him incorrigible. Upon consultation with Nelia it was decided that the firm hand of an older woman was needed . Their mother, Thelma, who lives with her man on a small plot of ground 25 kilomters from the city, agreed to take the boy in. This is not the first time they have agreed to such an arrangement, for living with them was another small boy, Arnold age 7, the son of Josha' s demented brother. The brother is not in control of his senses, and after being left by his woman came to reside in a small back room in Josha' s house. Thelma, T osha's mother, and her man Jan are frequently in the city and spend a good deal of time at Josha' s. Jan has planting and cultivating responsibilities on their plot and this ties him to the districts more than Thelma who must market the goods. T'helma enjoys visiting friends in the city and stretches out her business so that she may stay 1

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170 with Josha a week or more at a time. Harriet, JoshaÂ’ s mother's sister, frequently resides at Josha 's house. As mentioned earlier, when her man is away, her fear of staying alone propels her to Josha's where she stays for weeks at a time. Harriet also had recourse to establish domicile at Josha's household and expanded her earlier relationship into a long term residential arrangement. Harriet always knew her man visited other women. This did not bother her until he openly began to consort with young ladies who made a fool of him. This shamed Harriet and in a furor she packed up her belongings and moved in with Josha. The house which is Harriet's lies vacant; she will not let her ex-man return to it . She continues to sell at the market . None of Josha's affines except her legal husband Adolf has any sort of residential arrangement with Josha's household. Only occasionally does Adolf's father stop by to visit, and then, unlike the other relationships with Josha's consanguines the relationship is "single stranded" merely for the sake of a visit -and nothing more. If Adolf wishes to see his consanguines he must visit them. The personnel listed below on Figure Twelve are related by kinship and articulated in space by semi-permanent recurrent residence. This group is held together by yet another series of relationships embedded in kinship and residence and overlapping them. There is a complex network of economic exchange. ^

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171

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172 With her every trip to the city, Thelma (Josha's mother) comes laden with fruits, vegetables, and ground crops. The night of her arrival those present are feasted, and the remainder of the goods sold by Thelma or given to Josha. Josha will continue to prepare these items for her family table, but she will also preserve and bottle some for sale i on a small platform that protrudes out into the street from her sitting room window. bottles of sweet-sour lemons, sugar cane, piles of oranges, casava, and coconut cookies bring nickels and dimes regularly into the household. This money is shared with Thelma and the two of them turn a tidy cooperative profit. Harriet provides protein for the table. Every day she brings all sorts of fish, fresh and salted, home from the market. The group present eats, and the remainder of the fish, along with some of Thelma's vegetables are saved for Willy • The redistribution is continual; and never do Josha, Thelma, Harriet or Milly have to make a long and expensive shopping tour of downtown. Adolf supplies the cash for the social enterprise, and after bills are paid some is always left over to float a loan to one of the family or provide for a special occasion. As with most men, Adolf's capital does not flow just to Josha; he provides support for his aged mother living in the districts, his incapacitated father, and the two children he sired with two other women. Although expenses are not that great in running the household, and are considerably

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173 lightened by the material and social contributions of group members, Josha and Adolf must struggle to set aside money for their children. Of their six children, they have been blessed with a very bright son and two daughters. One young woman is in Holland studying nursing and she needs support. The others are yet young and will need funds in later years to pursue their studies. ' Others contribute economically as well. The labor of children in cleaning, cooking, and running messages is not to be overlooked. -ToshaÂ’s demented brother, a co-resident, must provide some of what few pennies he picks up to the f household coffers. There is no fear that he will squander his money at the winkel . He is completely ignored by the winkel crew. Occasionally he buys a liter of beer and drinks it while sitting on the front stoop of his brother-in-lawÂ’s house. It is interesting to note that -ToshaÂ’s married brother is not involved in this economic exchange network (nor the residence network; he was intimately connected only in the ritual network) . If interaction is plotted over time and in various recruitment contexts, Josha, Adolf and their five resident children in their nuclear family are placed in a group of wider dimensions. Couched in broader personnel kindreds these relationships provide material and sentimental support in ritual times fthis functions in festive celebrations as well; when one of the kindred has a birthday party all of

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174 the above contribute time, labor and material), residential alternatives in time of stress and shifting alliances, and important economic exchange networks along which flow goods and services that supplement household incomes. Without the support of this wider group — the survival group — the individual residential groups or families would have to be i content to do without goods and services that keep them safely from marginalities ’ doorstep. The overlap of the networks of ritual congregation, co-residence, economic exchange is depicted in Figure Thirteen. More will be said about Adolf’s wink el behavior in the conclusion. Myra and Rudolf Myra and Rudolf illustrate various processes in one case study: the nature of a household dispersed over space, inheritance procedures activated by Myra’s death, and the shedding from the household of an older affinal male. Myra is 64 years old and lives in a large yard in the center of Frimangron . Everyone in the neighborhood refers to the yard, Myra’s house, the two other rented houses, and the adjoining tailor shop and vegetable stand as "Myra’s." However, it is more complicated than this. Myra, her sister, and her deceased brother's four children rent the two houses and t/he two enterprises located on this piece of family land and take yearly turns collecting the patrimony. This is how it came about. In 1912 Myra’s father^ lived on a small plot of ground

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179 outside Paramaribo. He wanted to move to the city to find salaried work and, with some accumulated capital, assumed a 75 year lease on a large plot of ground in a sparsely settled section of Frimangron . Under the provisions of the lease the land title could be renewed and rights to the property itself sold, mortgaged and legally inherited. Moving to the city in 1926, the father built three houses on the property. He rented two while he lived with his woman, his two daughters and son in the third. In 1956 he died and the land and its income passed as a unit to the three siblings who inherited equal shares. As Myra's parents were not married neither the father's woman nor her relatives were beneficiaries The old woman was allowed to live out her years, cared for, in a small back room. Prior to the father's death, Myra's sister moved out to live with a man across town. The brother departed as well, leaving Myra, her first man, her five children and her mother and father on the property. All of Myra's siblings had rights to live on the land but only Myra chose to exercise them. Instead, after the death of the father each of the siblings received their capital share of the rent in turn once every three years. In 1962, a tailor offered to buy a piece of the property. Myra, her sister and brother decided against selling but agreed to rent a plot to the businessman. Shortly thereafter the same procedure was followed with a vegetable vendor. The yearly rent grew. At this time the y

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people living with Myra on the land were her man Rudolf, her daughter Ester, Ester's daughter, and one of Myra's grandchildren (a daughter of one of Myra's deceased daughters). In 1965 Myra's brother died, leaving three sons and a daughter. They assumed their father's legal inheritance rights, every three years getting their father's share of the rent and dividing it among themselves. Someday it will be further partitioned when it passes to their children. Satisfied in the assurance that they may collect the rent revenues, none of them exercise the right to live or build on the property. Myra took Rudolf, her third man, in 1965 when she was 56 years old. He moved in with Myra, her daughter, and granddaughters. He lived with them for three years, until he turned 65 and retired as a repairman from government service. Myra was an enterprising woman and hit upon a plan. Since Rudolf was in perfect health and as fit as any man 30 years his junior and, since vegetable prices were rising rapidly, it was decided to rent a piece of land in the Para district to grow and sell greens. It would take a large capital investment to build a shelter, buy tools, fertilizer, seed, striplings and provisions, but Myra could get the necessary cash from her two quite solvent sons. Thereafter, any weekday morning found Myra at home with Ester and the children. Three afternoons a week she took the 45 minute bus ride to Para and walked 4 kilometers down a side road to their plot ( boiti ) to help Rudolf in

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the fields, cook something special for him, assist in making charcoal, and bring goods back to the city. This continued until Myra fell ill; at that point she went once a week only to pick up vegetables for sale and personal consumption in the city. Saturdays found Rudolf in the city, sleeping and eating at Myra's house and enjoying the company of her grandchildren whom he dearly loved. The household was well provisioned with cassava, beans, oranges, sugar cane, bananas, eggplants, charcoal and a myriad of local vegetables (plus herbs gathered on the property for use in folk medicines) all grown on the boit i . Everyone in the neighborhood knew Myra had these items for sale and would stop by for fresh, quality goods at fair prices. The transaction was lubricated by friendship. Rudolf was not a " winke 1 -man. 11 Indeed, in his younger days he enjoyed the company of his fellow drinkers, but many had died or become infirm. He himself was no longer making an adequate salary to support these pastimes, and he wanted to settle down and spend time with his woman, her grandchildren and gardens. Although he lost interest in the winkel , he would regularly stop in on Saturdays for a shot or two of rum. He is treated courteously by the winkel crew, as all older men are, but the relationship goes no further. When Myra died unexpectedly, her funeral called together people from Paramaribo, the rural districts and even Holland. Myra was a traditional woman and the services

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182 did her justice. Eight days of night-long song and storytelling followed her death, and on the day of her funeral her sons carried her coffin around the yard for a last goodbye Myra went to the grave ushered by flowers and trumpets. MyraÂ’s sons paid for the funeral costs not covered by her burial society. Rudolf had a little money which he used to buy flowers for the coffin and the wake. In any case he was not expected to assume the responsibility. This was a family matter. The inheritance was also a family matter. MyraÂ’s share of the rent revenues passed to her three sons and daughter. The brothers decided that, as they owned their own houses, Ester should be given the house and all its contents. They recognized that she was without a man to support her, without a job, and with another child on the way. This arrangement was agreed to by Myra's living sister and the children of Myra's deceased brother. In the future, MyraÂ’s tri-yearly turn to the revenues would go to Myra's four children, who would share it equally. Rudolf, MyraÂ’s man, had no inheritance rights. It was through the good will of Ester and her brothers that Rudolf would continue visiting the house in the city. Showing up less frequently, he stayed only long enough to shower kisses and sweets on the two grandchildren. Rudolf was also permitted to stay on the boiti which had passed to Ester and her brothers. He was expected to pay them the rent and, with the remaining proceeds from sales, provision himself

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A.O KEY Cooperating household domestic group "Pulls” to, or new allegiances with other household/ domestic groups FIGURE FIFTEEN MYRA'S HOUSEHOLD OVER TIME AND SPACE t

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Pre-Death 1

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Myra's children were not interested in marketing vegetables and, without Myra's financial investments and marketing contacts, Rudolf's income dwindled until he could barely buy himself a package of tobacco or pay bus fare to the rural district. His only contact with a viable survival group had been through Myra, and now, after her death, he was being sloughed off. Myra's patrimony had supported him. Without her and her reserves he was reduced to a very marginal position. Rudolf is unwanted by his children from his three prior women. He had left their mothers and had not supported the children since they had turned eighteen long ago. There is no room at their houses for a man with whom they have had little contact. Not yet seventy, he is not eligible for old age welfare. Rudolf has no consanguineal kin with whom he can affiliate. A few months after Myra's death a young man moved into the house with Ester. Rudolf's presence became an unwanted imposition. He now spends most of his time at his rural gardens. Rudolf is seen occasionally hawking vegetables from a basket attached to the front of his bicycle. He is old and practically destitute, two characteristics that mitigate against participation both in winkel and household affairs. Betty and Russel Betty and Russel live together in concubinage. Russel's reputation and winkel behavior were described in Chapter III.

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186 Although he is not a highly respected winkel crew member, he spends most of his time and money at the winkel . In his absence Betty must make adjustments and engage in extra-household activities in order to maintain an adequate standard of living. Russel's household contacts are infrequent and attenuated he is a winkel man. However, I think it is important to look at his woman's behavior in light of his absence and in so far as it complements his behavior. On the face of it Betty, childless at 5&, is dependent on her man Russel for support. Every month he gives her Sf 57 (a small sum even by conservative winkel standards) to pay household expenses, feed him and care for her aged and infirm mother. All Russel's domestic needs are cared for by Betty. Aside from remittances he, occasionally and with great prodding, does "man’s work" around the house: painting, replacing a floor board, knocking fruit from trees with a heavy pole, etc. If Betty were asked to fill out an income form she would dutifully note the Sf 57 from Russel and Sf 26.50 a month given her by the government for the mother's old age welfare. Statisticians would shake their heads and mourn the deplorable financial state of this poverty stricken woman. Betty, however, does not bemoan her situation, for she has grappled with her marginal position and developed strategies to survive with it. Though Betty complains of high prices and wastes nothing in her house — from the claws of

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chickens to bits and pieces of hoarded cloth — she is well fed and happy. Occupational multiplicity couched in a network of kinship and friendship i.s the earmark of Betty's relative success-. There is a tiny spare room in Betty's cottage. This she rents out to a boarder for Sf 5 a month. His rent payments are carefully recorded in a tattered notebook with the precision of an Amsterdam banker. Of 2 of this must go to pay for her life insurance policy while the other three will be put in a bank account for a "rainy day" or new material acquisition. Betty and many other Creoles are not characterized by a "present orientation" naively attributed to them 5 by some authors. However, her priorities . differ from those of European and American scholars. For her, Sf 150 spent on a birthday party, where liquor and food are plentiful, or on the purchase of a shiny new washing machine are spiritually and socially well worth the price. From her man's yard she collects olives, and pickling them sells them by the jar ( which are given her by friends) outside her house. Canipa ( I Vfelicoccus bi jugatus ) and bread fruit from her back yard, as well as bananas, oranges, and other local fruits given her by kinfolk in the districts are for sale as well. Betty is not a full-time vendor by any means, but her part-time sales conducted from a street front window bring in a tidy profit that may amount to Sf 30 in a good month. Ironing occasionally comes in from a middle class mulatto

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family down the street . This is irregular and occurs only when the client is preoccupied with other things. Betty can capitalize on this and in her spare time earn Sf 15 or Sf 20 a month. The sporadic nature of the work actually fits nicely with Betty's strategies. If she were tied down with a fulltime ironing job she would be denied the time and social capital to pursue her other chores . Betty's house is situated near a school and a quiet conversation in her sitting room is often interrupted by the clamour of children outside her window. They yell in demanding "ices" and Betty takes a tray of ice cubes from her refrigerator and sells flavored cubes for one, two, or three cents each depending on the type of syrup added. Her homemade cookies and cakes are sold in the same manner. Neighbors wno live without the convenience of an icebox can come buy a tray of cubes for five cents. Visiting relatives from the districts and relatives of her first man, now deceased, visit Betty for the day and bring her gifts of vegetables, ground crops, and fish. Betty will not have to buy these items, and she sets aside the money saved in a small vase on a dusty shelf. It will be channeled in another direction at some future time. When time permits and prices at the market are right Betty will buy fruits to stew and sell. She does not "hawk" but explains that everyone in the neighborhood knows she often has things for sale. Yesterday, when time and reserve capital permitted, she bought Sf 1.50 worth of fruits and, . 1 7

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139 preparing them with sugar and spices, sold them. She calculated a net profit of Sf 3 . 50. This money will be set aside to supplement part of her rotating credit organization payment . Even though Betty lives in an urban environment she gathers food. She knows of a tamarind tree on a busy intersection downtown. From the fruit of this tree she prepares a syrup consumed as a drink. Weekly she can be seen, in the middle of Paramaribo, gathering up the fallen fruits from the public tree. This list could go on and on, for Betty is ready to seize any (honorable) opportunity to turn a profit. She is not a mean and greedy woman. Money flows in, in varying amounts and at erratic times, to her house and supports her and her mother at a standard of living unattainable if they had to rely completely on Russel's contributions. Betty carries all of this information around in her head and, like most Creole women, constantly mulls over strategies, prices, expenditures and possibilities for maximizing what resources she has at her disposal. If Betty has income she also has heavy expenditures . She does not attack the supermarket armed with huge cart to haul home the week's groceries; her available capital does not permit such a regular expenditure. At the beginning of each month, however, she does take the past month's savings and lay in important stores. Betty could not get any credit at the fancy supermarkets of downtown where prices

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190 are cheaper, but the neighborhood Chinese who dispenses goods at a higher price from his corner winkel will give her the credit she needs. Monthly she buys 50 pounds of rice, 5 pounds of margarine, a bucket of sugar, 3 liters of cooking oil, a 12 pound gas bomb for her stove and charcoal for her burner, all on credit. If Betty could buy a box of 300 chicken boullion blocks, three or four of which she uses daily to flavor her sauces, she would. Limited funds do not permit such a lavish expenditure; to deplete all of oneÂ’s resources at one time is foolhardy for it means not to consider the vicissitudes of tomorrow. As a result, Betty takes a daily stroll over to the winkel and disburses ten cents for three blocks. This is a household chore, but it is also entertainment. In the course of her chore she will engage in playful banter, be privy to the latest gossip and pass on her messages. In worrying about tomorrow Betty sets aside money for her and her mother's burial association ( fonsoe ) , rotating credit organization ( kas moni ) and club ( vereniging ) . The burial association will pay for the costs of her funeral: casket, flowers, gravediggers and pall bearers. She pays a few guilders a month to her political party who organizes the association. She pays Sf 10 a month to her rotating credit association. Tt is run by an old woman in the neighborhood and 4 most of the members know one another. Should one welch and I not pay in turn (thus upsetting the functioning of the cycle)

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191 the censure of the neighborhood would fall upon her. When Petty’ s turn comes up she receives Sf 250. The last time she was paid she bought a washing machine. The time before she carefully timed her turn to coincide with the week before her fiftieth birthday so she could buy alcohol, food, and all the other trappings for her party. Betty belongs to two clubs; one is a "pleasure club," and the members hold parties and dances, go to one another’s birthdays, and take bus excursions to the districts for outings. All members are female. Prom the monthly dues the members pay, each gets an envelop on her birthday containing Sf 25. A large bouquet of flowers is sent and some club sisters give a hand cooking, serving and cleaning up. At death the club is there too. A western economist would shake his head in dismay over the expenditures Betty must make for her club. When a dance is held she completely outfits herself in new shoes, dress, pocketbook and head tie. Her gold is taken from its hiding place, and so adorned Betty is a magnificent vision of womanhood, uplifting her spirit and the spirit of most observers (she makes quite a few people jealous too). If one follows Betty to the dahce, one sees all the others attired in the same costume, exhibiting a colorful display of solidarity. Her club membership is an outgrowth of and embedded in other prior social relationships. Hot only are the club members her co— sisters, but they are also her kinsmen, friends, neighbors, and co-members in other organizations. In short,

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192 the relationships these women have with one another are not "single stranded," but "multi-stranded" and overlapping, each one charged with intensity, durability and content. When Betty has a problem that her limited and irregular social and capital resources cannot deal with she can call upon other women for help. Without them she would be in a plight, and survival would not come easily. These clubs are not middle class Koff ee Klatscbes or ladies civic organizations, they are instrumental cooperative organizations, wherein a group of women band together to solve problems few of them could handle singly. If Betty "lives only for today" and "seldom saves" it is only because her limited access to resources forces her to assume this behavior. She invests what little she has in local neighborhood organizations that will someday pay returns with social, psychological, and capital dividends. If an observer notices only her new dress, her' gay songs, and lively dance steps and muses over how frivolously lower class Creoles waste their money, then, sadly, he has missed the entire point. In conclusion, a methodological point will be brought up and stated without great elaboration. The neighborhood might possibly be the most accurate unit of observation for an urban study, particularly of lower class organizational forms which tend to be more bounded in space than the social forms of other classes. It is in this locus that the interplay and mesh of kinship, residence, descent, friendship and

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193 Raising chickens Political Club Formal insti^ tutions (banks, life insurance) National govern lament welfare Remittances from current concubine Own enterprise (ironing, vending, etc.T < Boarder ^ Burial and rotating credit ass'n. < Recreation club
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194 clubship can be best and most clearly observed and documented, and the effect on social organization analyzed. In many ways we are dealing with ’’neighborhood as laboratory.” Marcell Marcell spends most of his free time at the winkel . There he has an impressive reputation. He has a well-paying skilled blue collar job, a large number of women whom he visits while he lives with one of them, and consumes great quantities of whiskey with his fellows without getting obnoxiously drunk or engaging in damaging gossip about other fellow crew members. To seek Marcell at one of his households is folly; he is with the men of the neighborhood. However, operating from his winkel base, Marcell has had intense and frequent relationships of varying duration with a number of households. The variety of contacts he forms are many; he regularly sleeps in some households, eats in others, and with others his physical presence is not at all a prerequisite. A sporadic remittance may be his only contact with a household, a reminder of past services rendered or future services expected. His contacts with women, other than obtaining food, clean laundry and sexual services take the form of financial remittances. Marcell has been affiliated with a number of households throughout his life. Before adulthood and the development of his wage earning capacity, Marcell was dependent on consanguineal households for nuture. As he matured sexually

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195 and financially, his relationships with households grew more shifting and complex. Mating and extra-residential relationships with women added a new dimension to his relationships and altered the frequency, intensity and duration of his older, yet still on-going, relationships. This chapter will explore the nature of Marcell's household contacts formed during his life. The numbers cited in this section refer to characters in Figures Seventeen to Nineteen. Marcell (1) was born twenty-nine years ago in a small cottage in Frimangron . Those living in the house at the time were Marcell's mother (2), Marcell's father ( 3 ), Marcell's mother's sister (13) and Marcell's brother Ferdie ( 5 ) • This arrangement persisted until Marcell was three years old. (Figure Seventeen) The group moved to another house in the area and during the following two years underwent some organizational shifts in personnel. (Figure Eighteen, 2) During this time his father (3) moved out and began living with Carol (182). In the father's absence Marcell's mother was visited by Tony (6) by whom she bore a son ( 65 ). While visiting with Tony she began living in concubinage with Bere (7) with whom she bore a daughter ( 69 ). Marcell's brother Ferdie resided with this group as well. The two years that Marcell resided with this group, when he was four and five years old, were wrought with hardship and physical beatings. When the mother threw Bere out and took up with Boil (8), a mean and callous man, Marcell moved out and reestablished residence with his f

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c Concubinage Marcell FIGURE SEVENTEEN MARCELL'S RESIDENTIAL ARRANGEMENT ' Number 1

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197 2 ) C v G Concubinage X. Concubinage terminated V Visiting Visiting terminated FIGURE EIGHTEEN MARCELL'S RESIDENTIAL ARRANGEMENTS Numbers 2 and 3 j i

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198 father and his woman a few streets away. (Figure Eighteen, 3) Marcell 's mother died shortly thereafter. Marcell lived in this house with his father and father's woman until he was six years old. They then moved to another house in the neighborhood. This residential arrangement also underwent a series of modifications. When Marcell was seven, he was joined by his brother Ferdie; the household composed of Marcell, his brother, his father, and his father's woman remained in this form until he was sixteen years old. ^he father and his woman argued and she left to live alone a few houses down the street (Figure Nineteen, 4— a) • Six months later the father joined her. Marcell and his brother resided alone until Marcell turned eighteen (Figure Nineteen, 4-b), when he decided to move in with his father and father's woman (Figure Nineteen, 4-c). This arrangement lasted for about six months until Marcell and Carol had a series of fights. In anger she threw him out. The father said nothing. Marcell then moved in with his paternal great aunt (A), his father's father's sister, and her man. The woman was old and crotchety and Marcell found living with the elderly couple difficult. He was young and his movements and activities did not easily mesh with those of his hosts. He left after a year. Marcell moved in with his paternal aunt Sissy (49), her daughter Sadie (53), Sadie's seventh man (137) and 1 »

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199 4 ) Marcell's Residential Group 1, A, and A 1 FIGURE NINETEEN MARCELLÂ’S RESIDENTIAL ARRANGEMENTS Numbers 4 and 5 a

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i— I CD • 03 > CO -ftp 3 1 — 1 v — O P o ft 0 CD •H CD ft O ft s> O p O ft ft CD P O 03 ft P o3 P 0 ft w ft g hO-H O 01 01 CO Q ft O ft ft CO ft ft o ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft < [V] ft ft ><: ft w a h co ft « ft ft ft o ft y •

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201

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202 Sadie's ten resident children from six different fathers (122, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, l&L, 136, 138 and 140 in Figure Twenty) . This fourteen member group resided in two contiguous houses in a typical back yard arrangement. Each house has a downstairs cooking area and a sitting room (unused in the daytime and slept in at night), and an upstairs sleeping loft . Marcell has lived off and on with this group for the last nine years. For a while he mated extra-residentially with a young Javanese woman (64). During this time Marcell's father moved, and Marcell rented his house as a dorose ose (outside house) where he could take his women to mate in privacy while still living at Sissy's. He kept his valuables at Sissy's as well as taking his meals there. A complete description of Marcell's departure from this residential grouping will be given in Chapter VI . Marcell's contributions are crucial to this household. Even now, living in concubinage with his dorose oso on a "permanent basis," he makes regular remittances to Sadie and Sissy (Figure Twenty-one) . Men form a variety of relationships within and between households for a number of purposes, determining the internal organization of the domestic groups. Women, too, must adapt to the presence, absence t and type of their men. In discussions of "household types" and the rules that generate them, formulations such as the male's position in the occupational hierarchy (R. T. Smith, 1956) and the nature

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203 64 Future concubine O KEY Standard kinship abbreviations are employed. FIGURE TWENTY-ONE MARCELL »S DISBURSAL PATTERNS 1

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204 of the mating system (M. G. Smith, 1962) are too one-dimensional. These factors are critical hut they must be considered in the context of male social organization and its points of interface with female social organization. For men, the winkel functions as a waystation, a neutral accessible point in space, between households. The nature of male interaction here varies directly with the type of household relationships they have formed with women. If one’s style of household interaction is disturbed, adjustment and balance are reestablished by altering one's winkel interaction and establishing a new househo Id -winkel equilibrium. New households and mating relationships require further interaction alterations. This process takes place throughout the adult male life cycle, and all the while the winkel functions as shock absorber. The reestablishment of male-male and male-female equilibrium is not a difficult process. In terms of interaction rate, the type of relationships men form with men resembles closely the type of relationships they form with women. Both sets ( intra -winkel and male-to— household) are loose, shifting, short term, and noncommital. For a male, the relationships he forms with both sexes constitute a quasi7 group around him in which he interacts.

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205 NOTES : CHAPTER IV 1. Fox states (1967: 167 ): ". . . ego's cognates up to a. certain degree . are recognized as having some duties towards him and some claims on him. It is perhaps wrong to call this a 'group' at all, but rather we should call it a category of persons. It is never a residential unit nor is it corporate, and it only comes to life when the purpose for which it exists arises. . . ." 2. Buschkens (1973) encountered this among his sample of lower class Creoles in Paramaribo. On page 152 he offers the following statement and chart: "Households with female heads receive a good deal of income from non-household members." This occurred in 76 of his 224 samples of all household types. The following chart outlines the nature of his finds: Person Outside Household Household with Male Head (n = 294) Household with Female Head (n = 224) Spouse X 6 Friend X 12 ex-S pous e X 7 Son 6 2S Daughter X 5 Other 9 20 3. Every fifth birthday following the twenty— fifth birthday takes on a more spiritual air. The person is approaching eldership ( bigi soema — sixty and older) and as such is privy to all the knowledge and status that old age brings. For people forty and older birthday party music (bigi pokoe) frequently turns into spirit cult music ( winti ) during the later hours of the celebration. The celebrant and some attendants are usually possessed by their winti . On a purely sociological level, fifth year celebrations in later years draw together huge crowds of kin, friends, and neighbors for dancing, singing, eating, drinking, gossiping, and possible communion with the spirit world. 4. See Wooding (1972) for a discussion of rural winti cults functioning in the context of overlapping and propinq'uit ous cognatic descent groups. 5. In reference to Creole savings and expenditures, Buschkens (1973: 164) says: "Also from my observations it appears that they seldom save, live by the day, and often appear much richer than they in fact are." Buschkens should have realized that many of these flamboyant disbursals have an important social function.

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206 6. Pierce (1970: 57) has pointed out that: "The named residential districts. . . are relatively unimportant as far as social organization is concerned." He is correct if one defines a "named residential district" or neighborhood strictly by geographical criteria. As Pierce also correctly points out, there is an ego centered socio-geographic unit used by Paramaribo Creoles called the birti, which I loosely employed in discussions of neighborhood "K birti can best be described as the geographical spread of ego 1 s personal network in a small area, a street or a number of blocks. This varies for each ego and, although two people might be kinsmen, even siblings, and live in the same house, they could very well have different birt is . Therefore I selected a more encompassing area that would include a number of (sometimes overlapping) birti and chose the more spatially oriented "neighborhood" which includes extra-birti phenomena. A number of authors have either explicitly or implicitly employed the "neighborhood" as their unit of observation. See for example Padilla (195&), Keiser ( 1969 ), Gans ( 1962 ), Suttles (196S), Keller (I 96 S) and Peattie (1970). Some authors have chosen "streetcorners" (Liebow, 1967 ) or "streets" (Hannertz, 1969)My choice of a neighborhood, which has a bounded time depth and spatial parameters (see Chapter II) came from suggestions offered by Linton (1936). In his analysis of the "local group" based largely on the study of "bands" he expanded his original model to encompass neighborhoods, villages and urban wards. Although his definition of neighborhood (as a local group which is mutually interdependent, mutually adaptive, shares the same ideals and patterns of behavior, has a definite pattern of arrangement, and is self limiting in interaction and organization) is a bit too rigid for the data presented here, I think his ideas are most useful suggestions for students of urban and complex society. I view the neighborhood simply as the socio-geographical area where the instrumentalities of kinship, friendship, clubship and residence mesh and dovetail. 7. Chappie and Coon (1942: 51) point out that the elements of interaction (". . . that situation in which the actions of one individual are followed by the actions of another." (1942: 705) are amenable to measurement. The variables are: (1) the amount of interaction; (2) the frequency of interaction; ( 3 ) the origen-response ratio. . .Â’ (4) the rhythm of interaction rate; and (5) the degree of synchronization... . Homans (1950) elaborates on the nature of interaction in small groups.

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CHAPTER V MARCELL 'S STORY: SOCIAL PROBLEMS AND RITUAL THERAPY Men, spinning off from the winkel on their various time cycles, establish critical contacts with households. Along these channels flow, reciprocally, vital goods and services. However, these links are tenuous and shifting, denying males a full time (and resource) commitment to any one household and placing them in marginal positions within most of the households where they find themselves at any point in time during their adult life. Such relationships breed problems; one could call them conflicts of interest. Indeed, many times, the safest place for a male to be is the winkel . Although the male can remove himself temporarily in space, the household process goes on about him. Males must strategically consider their resources: Is it more auspicious to remain with an aunt or to depart with a lover? Are four or five lovers distributed about town better than two located in the neighborhood? How much support should be given to one woman to keep her attached while still leaving enough cash to maintain other women and one's winkel life? These problems are usually solved by direct action: the male leaves (or the woman leaves), the male refuses, the male hides, the male disclaims. Some problems take on a more complex dimension, calling into action supernatural and magical agents. As a number of 207

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20S Afro-Americanists have pointed out, social problems many times result in severe spiritual misfortune for New World blacks. It is no different for Surinamers (Price, 1973)* The mating system of the lower class Creoles, sanctioning multiple and simultaneous extra-residential and concubinal sexual relationships, breeds hostility between men and women that is usually latent but many times overt. For men, whose relationships span many households, the discharge of rights, responsibilities and obligations becomes confusing, conflicting and many times impossible to satisfy. Men are placed in positions in which potential discord and conflict between households devolves upon them. Men are regularly caught between groups of women competing for their resources. This chapter is a description of one man's domestic and household problems. The protagonist, Marcell, resorted to ritual therapy to cope with and solve his dilemma. A magician ( bonoeman ) , a marginal and outsider to the neighborhood with no local roots or commitments, was called in to assist Marcell and pull the neighborhood together when it was falling apart. Marcell was engaging in both foolhardy and dangerous behavior and the neighborhood knew it. The winkel men and the women made it quite clear in their gossip, admonishments and blunt suggestions that things could not go on as they were. The main problem was Mar cell's, stemming directly from his mating patterns; it was also the neighborhood's worry and they, with the ritual experf

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209 tise of the magician as accelerator, were instrumental in solving it and returning things to "as they should be." The series of rituals had a definite beginning and end. During this period the social relationships of the major characters, particularly those surrounding the winkel and the household, were thrown into sharp relief. The ritual process encapsulated Marcell ’s life, shed irrelevant mundane matters to reveal the critical supernatural issue and, in short, gave an intense statement of a complex process. Some will read this chapter for "facts’? ; further information on Surinamese ritual and magical paraphernalia, medicinals, ceremonies, chants, or what have you. Camouflaged by the magical goings on, Marcell's story outlines the structural realities — the process — of lower class Creole kinship, domesticity, mating in all its forms, household structure and shifting boundaries, use of time, space and other cultural instrumentalities, neighborhood social organization, and winkel life. Marcell has intimately known a large number of women, some for only moments, one for more than four years. He has provided for all of them and in return for their services has never reneged on his responsibility to contribute to their support. Even after the active phase of a mating relationship had ceased, he was always willing to contribute something if he heard an ex— lover had fallen on hard times. Seven years before our story, when he was 23 years old, Marcell lived with his paternal aunt Sissy (see Chapter IV).

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210 SissyÂ’s daughter Sadie and her 10 children resided there as well, and Marcell slept in a small corner of the attic separated by a hanging sheet from the piles of children on the floor. He was working at the Dutch Aluminum company and had visiting relationships with a number of women. About this time, Marcell Â’s father and his third woman moved from their back yard cottage a few blocks away to a new house on the other side of town. Marcell quickly rented the vacated house for Sf 16 per month and used it as his d pros e oso (outside house), a place he could bring his girlfriends for privacy. He visited this house two or three times a week, occasionally spending the night. Everyone in the neighborhood knew what he was doing, and would gossip among themselves over MarcellÂ’s latest affair. Marcell maintained his residence at Sissy's. He slept there, ate there, stored all his possessions there, had his laundry and mending done there, and contributed heavily to the upkeep of the household and its inhabitants. At this time Sadie did not have a man and the responsibility of maintaining everyone fell in good part on Marcell. Marcell's do rose oso was furnished sparsely. There was nothing in the kitchen save two cups, a plate, a few forks and spoons. A bucket to retrieve water from an outside pump stood on a rickety wooden table. There was no refrigerator or stove and the shelves were empty. The sitting room contained one chair and a mattress. The attic was empty, the floors were uncovered, there were no curtains, and the

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211 house was filthy. However, it served Marcell just fine. Marcell has a full brother three years younger than he. This brother was born when Marcell's mother and father were spitting up. Unlike Marcell, he was never legally recognized by the father. The brother bears his mother's name and carries a grudge against Marcell and his father. Marcell and his brother do not speak; Marcell had publicly denounced him as a vagrant. However, they resided in contiguous neighborhoods and, although they did not travel in the same circles, saw each other frequently. When especially pressed the brother often begged money from Marcell. One Saturday night, about seven years ago, Marcell went to the movies and noticed a young Javanese woman. ^ After Creole women, Creole men mate most frequently with Javanese women. They say, "Javanese live like we do and we get along." Marcell made inquiries and found that she lived on the other side of town, came from a very poor family where she lived with her blind mother, two sisters, and their men, and that she came often to the movies. Further inquiries informed Marcell that she was a waka-waka oema (a walking woman — sexually approachable). Marcell pursued her and, although he never took her anywhere, he supplied her with money which she used to buy clothes for herself and food for her family. For more than a year they visited in Marcell's dorose oso . They would spend a few hours or the night and when finished would both return to their respective "permanent" residences. At this time f «

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2.12 Marcell was also visiting other women but felt, because he was supplying her with gifts, that she was not to see any other men. After their first year of visiting, and about the same time that his aunt Sissy’s daughter Sadie brought a man in to live with her, Marcell began seeing more of the Javanese. They did not, however, establish a new residence. Marcell moved some of his clothes into his house and bought a few tables and chairs. He began to sleep there two or three nights a week, usually on weekends. All his household services were still discharged by Sissy and he still contributed heavily to her household. The Javanese followed a similar pattern at her sister’s house. During his meetings with the Javanese woman, he felt moments of intense hostility. Drunk, he would admonish her for her past loose reputation. After treating her deplorably, which occasionally took the form of beatings, he felt guilty, but this emotion quickly evaporated when he learned she was seeing other men behind his back. Her behavior led to further beatings and more guilt. The relationship continued on in this fashion for four years: short visits at the house; hostility and distance; gifts and contributions; and relationships with other men and women, all set in the context of three overlapping households and the larger context of the neighborhood'. Marcell’s brother soon entered the picture. Unknown to Marcell he was one of the men sleeping with the Javanese 1 •

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while she was steadily visiting Marcell. The brother often profitted from the gifts Marcell gave her. Hostility between Marcell. and the brother increased when Marcell discovered that the woman had moved in with the brother while continuing to visit Marcell. Marcell explained that this happened because the woman wanted to remain close to him (Marcell) and moved in with the closest person to Marcell — his brother. Her situation worsened as the brother, a scoundrel by everyone's definition, denied her support and money in addition to mishandling her. To make ends meet she occasionally approached Marcell at the winkel to ask for money. He soon began to blame himself for her plight, feeling he drove her to these terrible circumstances. After two years, the brother threw her out with no remorse. She was temporarily homeless, without income of any sort, uneducated and without skills, sick with TB and reverting to her old pattern of promiscuity. Marcell felt obliged to do something. It started innocently enough; he wanted to make up for his past behavior and clear his conscience. As he put it, he wanted lespeki foe en sref i (self respect) . Marcell formulated a plan and suggested it to the men at the winkel. He devised a rehabilitation program and arranged for the woman to get a morning job as a maid and go to school in the afternoon to learn Dutch and mathematics. He would pay her tuition and buy her books. He made contact

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214 with the Fathers at the local Catholic church and arranged to have her TB treated. Then, with the help of the Fathers and after she was cured and had completed school, he would send her to Holland to work. This would involve buying her clothes and luggage, arranging transportation and finding her housing and work. The Fathers had suggested that she might work as a nurse's aide. Marcell agreed and estimated he would need about Sf 1600 ($£20) in about six months' time to put his scheme into operation. The winkel men scoffed at the idea. Why should Marcell feel responsible for her? Especially when he would get no return on his investment. The question of his guilt was glossed over and everyone agreed Marcell would be foolishly wasting money. Why, he didn't even have any children with her. The crew tried to dissuade him but soon gave up. In his absence the men would shake their heads lamenting Marcell' s crazy plans. Word spread throughout the neighborhood. Marcell intensified his visiting relationships with the woman and promised her there would be no more beatings and that he would indulge her. She in turn promised to go faithfully to work and school, visit the doctor regularly, and not waka-waka anymore . She did not address the question of going to Holland. A week or two later he found out from one of the winkel men that the woman was seen downtown during her work hours. Checking with her employer he found out she had quit . Further investigations proved she was not attending school

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215 regularly and that she did not show up for her TB treatments. In fact, the Bureau of Public Health was looking but could not locate her. She had given them a false name and address. The winkel men threw this in MarcellÂ’s face. "You see," they said, "She is only using you and your money. Women arenÂ’t worth it." "No," replied Marcell, "she is only dumb and ignorant and must be trained." In Marcell's estimation she was not responsible for her behavior. Marcell reduced his contact with other women and began seeing the Javanese even more regularly. Everyone in the neighborhood was watching closely. Men and women alike agreed that Marcell was being exploited. He owed her nothing An incident, started by the brother, soon brought everything to a head. The atmosphere of the winkel was charged with Marcell's story. One evening while a sizable portion of the crew was assembled the brother entered. Sneering and offensive he accused Marcell of stupidity and naivete. If he wanted to give his money to a worthless whore and be exploited by her that was his business. Furthermore, who did he think he was by determining peopleÂ’s destinies with his opinions and charity. The winkel crew remained silent while outsiders added their commentary to the brother's. Marcell was assaulted from all sides. Without let-up, verbal attack continued for about half an hour. Outnumbered, Marcell remained silent. When the brother called him a dumb Negro trying to play God, Marcell sprang from his seat. Grabbing a heavy

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216 glass top from an apothocary jar on the counter he lunged at the brother and tried to smash his head in. Fortunately, Bunker, a crew member, was standing between them and caught Marcell in midair. Pinning his arms back and shouting at the brother to leave Bunker was joined by the other wink el men. Both shamed and infuriated, Marcell left amid the yells of the winkel men telling him not to seek out his brother. Spending more time together, but not yet living in concubinage, Marcell began contributing more to the womanÂ’s upkeep. Aside from giving her Sf 50 every fortnight, a sizable sum, he would often be called upon to pay new tuition installments and buy books. With every paycheck he set aside money for her ticket to Holland. When asked why he was spending so much intimate time with her when he wanted to send her away, he would only say, "to keep an eye on her and keep her out of trouble." Marcell was in a very ambivalent position, and his thinking was not always clear. He would alternately praise and condemn her. Why, if he was investing so much time and money, was he sending her away? Why too, did he break up with her in the first place? Aside from her affairs with other men, which Marcell refused to accept, and her general lack of personal hygiene, Marcell flatly decried her irresponsibility with money. There were many ambiguities and ambivalences in the liaison. For example, when he and the woman first began their visiting relationship Marcell provisioned the house with

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217 some furnishings. He bought a table and chairs and charged them at a local department store. Two months later he received a bill for Sf 450 due on furniture. Knowing nothing of this he asked the woman if she was responsible for the additional items. She denied it, only to have the goods discovered later by Marcell at her sister's house. Since they were not married Marcell could have refused to pay. Instead he accepted the bill, feeling she was not responsible for her actions and that her family needed the goods anyway. Early one October afternoon, four months after Marcell started seeing the woman again, I entered the winkel . Marcell was sullenly hunched over the table holding a knife in his hands. He was surrounded by Schill, Chris, and Rijker. Schill told me Marcell was about to do a very foolish thing. Earlier in the day he had gone to his woman's sister's house to try and locate his lover. A neighbor told him that the woman no longer lived there, but further down the street in the house of another man. Marcell went to the location and found the house empty. Looking about, he discovered her clothing, male articles, and bills for large expenditures. The contributions he had made to her were going in part to support another man. A man entered and Marcell asked if he was living with the Javanese. Recognizing Marcell the man began pleading with Marcell not to beat him. He admitted living with her and buying things for himself with Marcell 's money. 1

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218 Marcell 's wrath, however, was not for him. Running home to his house he grabbed a small kitchen knife and ran up the street to the winkel yelling for everyone to hear that he was going to "cut off her arm." Although ostensibly looking for the woman he went directly to the winkel and was easily lured inside by the winkel men. There they tried to calm him. One cannot trust a woman anyway so what did he expect? There are plenty of women in Paramaribo. Marcell would be much better off if he would just go out and look for another that would appreciate him. "DonÂ’t worry," interjected Rijker, "maybe the woman screwed you but you can get her back by running around with every female you meet." Finally Schill reached down, took the knife from Marcell and gave it to Rijker for safe keeping. A lot of people knew of Marcell's plight. Although it angered him that his name was bantered about he used these networks to spread news of his intentions, and in this case, to force people to intercede and stop him from doing something that would have had extra-neighborhood consequences (e.g., the police and state legal machinery). Marcell was cooling off slowly and continued to talk about the possibility of hurting the Javanese woman. A young female stood listening and when Marcell swore he would kill the man too if he tried to interfere, she quickly left the winkel . A half an hour later a man and three women approached the winkel . They were the brother and sisters of the man Marcell had just threatened.

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219 The man walked up to Marcell, opened his jacket and disclosed a revolver stuck in the waist band. He threatened to kill Marcell should anything befall his brother. He turned and left. The men said nothing. Marcell was completely demoralized and ashamed. This incident did not help him in thinking more clearly. A short time later two teenagers passed by. Marcell recognized them as living in the same birti as the man he had threatened and proceeded to hail them. He told them to convey the message that he really didnÂ’t mean what he said and that everything was smoothed over. They promised to deliver the message. The neighborhood was alive with stories. Everyone thought that Marcell should drop the woman immediately. Marcell was adamant. Cooling off, he decided that the woman did not know what she was doing and it was his obligation to care for her. She must be sent to Holland immediately, whether she had a job, the requisite skills or not. The men rose in a clamor. Marcell was beyond help. He took the next morning off from work, gathered her birth registry book and papers, and went to get her a passport. At the government office everything went smoothly until he was questioned about her health. He lied about any contagious illnesses but a suspicious government official checked with the Health Office (which was now treating her under her real name) and found that she was still undergoing treatment. Marcell was denied the passport. 1

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220 Marcell decided that he must keep the woman in his care. This time he exacted a promise that she would live with her sister, stop visiting the man with whom she had been living, and visit no other man except Marcell. This most recent male interloper was not heard from again. From the knife incident in October until mid-December, Marcell frequently and regularly visited the Javanese woman in the dorose oso . He continued to make his contributions. All proceeded without mishap. Early in December the woman told Marcell that her sister had been evicted and forced to move into a smaller house. There was no room for her to stay on with her sister. She begged Marcell if she could stay, just for a short time, in his dorose oso house. Realizing the implications of this move, Marcell agreed. Shortly thereafter she moved in all her possessions and set up residence. Marcell continued to live at his aunt's house. During that month the house took on more and more of a woman's touch. In fact she became a model homemaker, much unlike her former self. She was settling in. Curtains appeared, a gas bomb stove was bought, and later a large, expensive, well-stocked refrigerator was placed squarely in the middle of the sitting room. It was a large investment. The mattress was brought up to the attic and placed on a bed frame and kitchen utensils appeared in the cooking area. For Marcell, these were items bought merely to keep her at home and away from the "bad influences" of Paramaribo. f

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221 There was talk of Holland, but the plans became more diffuse. She did not want to go. In early January SissyÂ’s granddaughter Mabel fell ill. It was uncertain whether it was a aatra siekie (physical illness responsive to a licensed physician's care) or a nengr.e siekie (a spiritual illness caused by supernatural agents) . She needed care (and was treated by both doctors and local curers) and was brought downstairs and placed on the large double bed in the sitting room. Four children were forced to sleep in the attic. There was no room left for Marcell in the small house . He moved out and in with the Javanese woman. From January to July he lived out his normal pattern in the neighborhood. Only his place of residence had changed. He still contributed regularly (though not as much) to Sissy's house and took occasional meals there. Over the course of the next few months he gradually moved more of his possessions to his house. His winkel attendance fell off slightly as he began to spend more intimate time with his lover; however, he still was a full time winkel man. One July evening Marcell, before leaving to go out for a drink, gave the woman Sf 5 for her to go to the movies alone. He told her to be home early and not to talk to anyone. Not liking her reaction to his orders he browbeat her until she was in tears. The next morning found him at the winkel . Instead of going to work, he sat there livid with rage. When he had V *

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222 come home at 1 o'clock the night before he found the house open with no one there. Thinking she decided to go to a late movie and foolishly left the house open, he thought no more of it and went to bed. Arising late the next morning he found the woman still not back. He asked neighbors if she had gone out early and they all replied that they had not seen her. Intuition and experience suggested he look for her at her sister's house. Entering the sister's yard he heard a shout warning of Marcell 's presence. Before he was able to phrase a question the sister ran towards him, blocked the doorway and told him his woman was not there. Pushing her aside he marched into the three-room cottage and saw a man in his underwear lying on the bed with his back turned. His woman was huddled in the corner wearing only a man's undershirt. Thinking the Creole man on the mat was the sister's man he paid no attention and merely was irritated with the woman for not coming home. A closer look at the man exposed him as Marcell 's brother. Realizing what had happened he threatened the brother with a beating if he ever interfered in his affairs again. The brother was arrogant and talked back. Turning to the woman he ordered her to retrieve her clothes from his house and never to return again. Storming out of the house he cursed the sister for condoning such behavior. Outside in the yard Creole and Javanese neighbors gathered. They applauded Marcell for his actions and called 1

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223 out that the woman had been shamed mightily. This story would spread quickly. Marcell returned to the winkel and told the story to the crew members present. The men shook their heads in disbelief; how could one brother treat another in such a disgraceful manner? Something was amiss; things like this are not supposed to happen. It was hard for them to believe, but it was only an extreme version of an often cited proverb: When you do good you get bad in return (Te ,joe doe boen .joe e. kisi ogri baka ) . After Marcell' s departure the men could hardly hide their nervous laughter. Marcell was a sucker, both for the woman and the brother. Both of them exploited Marcell for what he was worth. From his work at Affobakka Marcell had developed an acquaintance with a Bush Negro from the Saramaka tribe. Moving to the city, this man had capitalized on his tribal stereotype in Creole eyes as a man familiar with the deep ways of the supernatural and had become a bonoeman (magician).^ For two days Marcell mulled over his plight. He felt the causes were not as clear cut as originally perceived. He decided to seek the advice of the bonoeman . He was beginning to speak more of revenge; he felt abused and was in a confused state of mind. Marcell told the bonoeman his tale from beginning to end. Shaking his head the bonoeman concurred that there was more to the problem than met the eye. Spiritual and supernatural forces were at work and Marcell had to respond f

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224 m kind. Through the bo no emails suggestions Marcell decided that magical spells were being cast upon him and the woman. He suspected that she was no longer in control of her senses but was being manipulated by the brother. Marcell devised the following strategy to which the bonoeman agreed. The first matter at hand was to break the spell cast on the woman. Marcell was to take all her clothing except for two pieces of underwear and place them outside the door of his house. The undergarments were to be placed under the sitting room linoleum, and everyone who is a friend of Marcell ' s must walk on them. That was to accomplish three things: break her spirit ( broko en geest , meki en saka ) . force her to fail at whatever attempts she makes contrary to Marcell ' s wishes, and assure Marcell complete power over her for his ends . Marcell also had to take precautions to protect himself. A future date was set when he would be given a charm ( tapoe ) and a ritual washing (wasi skin ) to protect him from any wisi (black magic) his brother might work against him. Wishing to hurt his brother in some manner, Marcell wanted the power to have sexual access to and control over any female his brother engaged in the future (A _e _go poeroe den k omopo en hanoe) . In addition, Marcell wanted sexual access to the woman's sister. This is a form of revenge as well as control since she lied to Marcell and sanctioned his woman's extra-residential affair in her home. The wheels were in motion and the problem shifted from

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225 the secular to the supernatural. There were unseen connections between events that Marcell and the bonoeman had to identify. That night Marcell placed the undergarments under his linoleum and walked upon them, from that point on, all behavior was interpreted in terms of the supernatural and its forces. Events were not as they seemed, or as they had once been explained. Everything done to Marcell or by Marcell would be interpreted on a different order of reality. In many ways, everything done and to be done was a selffulfilling prophecy. Marcell's behavior would speak louder than his magical words. Two days after he placed the underwear under the linoleum the woman returned. While she was in the house Marcell took her upstairs and had intercourse with her. Her return and the sex act proved to Marcell that he had regained control over her. Before she left he asked if she was still going to her lessons. She replied that she was and began pleading to return. He refused. She left without taking her clothes. Every morning thereafter she would return to spend half the day cleaning and cooking whether Marcell was home or not . Not trusting her he followed her to school later that week and found his brother waiting for her. Obviously his brother was working some particularly evil spell on the girl, much stronger than the ceremony Marcell had performed to get her back. He understood he had failed to break his brother's hold. Yet, it was even more evident that he was

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226 wrong in chastising the woman; she was obviously not responsible for her behavior in light of the brother’s power. Marcell demanded a control over the woman stronger than that of the brother’s. The bonoeman would have to provide more powerful magic. Marcell decided to consult the bonoeman the next day. I agreed to pick him up Sunday morning to take him and arriving at the house I found him sitting with Marko, one of his girl friends. They had just spent the morning together in bed. Marko was four months pregnant by another man and Marcell was explaining to her that they had to terminate their relationship. Later he privately explained he had to do this to avoid her asking him for money to pay some of the maternity bills. He pointed out that he would be needing all the extra cash he would be able to muster to pay for the services of the bonoeman . Early this same morning he had stopped at the winkel for a drink. There he found his father, who was in one of his rare states of good health, waiting for him. The old man knew of Marcell 's problem and came to talk with him. They discussed the problem in detail and the father agreed that Marcell ’s course of action was justifiable. We left together for the bonoeman’ s house, a small, run-down barrack located behind weathered street-front houses. It was almost barren of furnishings. Two hammocks were strung from the walls, while benches, empty bottles, glasses and plates lay in disarray on the floor. A kerosene 1 »

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227 lantern illuminated the darkened room. Two women, barebreasted and wrapped in cloth around their waists, sat combing their hair with wooden combs. The bonoeman invited us in. Hearing Marcell's story he pointed out that the first ritual to bring the woman back had temporarily worked, although it was not strong enough to keep her permanently out of the clutches of the brother. The most important matter, suggested the bonoeman . was to protect Marcell from wisi worked by his brother. The ceremonial washing, however, could not be done today because the bonoeman 1 s jeje (spirit — one of the functionally specific compartments of the soul) was not settled and comfortable ( it was out of equilibrium) . Should he perform the washing today, it would not work. This turned out to be a pattern. Whenever Marcell asked the bonoeman to perform a certain ritual to assure a certain event, the bonoeman consistently made an excuse to temporarily delay the ceremony. Doubtless this was to give him time to investigate the case, and, after hearing the gossip and learning the circumstances, decide on the feasibility of the request and the odds of the goal actually materializing. If he thought the chances were good that it would "work out" he would perform the ceremony; otherwise he would try to dissuade Marcell. The bonoeman suggested that they set the washing ceremony for Friday night. This would give him time spiritually to recuperate and also to purchase the items necessary 1

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223 for the rite. Before leaving the bonoeman delivered a lengthy speech on his own character. He emphasized that he was honest, reliable, and not greedy. He never sought to rob people or take advantage of their weakened condition. (People in Suriname are often victimized by crooked bonoemen , who extort great amounts of money. Magic can be quite a "racket," and Creoles are rightfully suspicious of approaching a ~ bonoeman they do not know.) The bonoeman said that he would charge nothing for the ritual washing but "would take what Marcell's soul wanted to give him." (Mie sa teki san joe jeje e gi mie .) Marcell found this " agreeable . He left l relieved .by the conviction that by the weekend everything £ •• would be back in order. All the next week, before the rite, the Javanese woman came to his house. Whether Marcell was home or not she would clean, wash his clothes and leave cooked food for him. Although he would not permit her to stay he was slowly changing his mind. She was a good woman, he thought, and if he could only be assured that he had full control over her she would be nice to have around. The ritual to bring the woman back was working. Supposedly she knew nothing about it. However, she was privy to neighborhood gossip, and stories had been spreading that Marcell was up to something. Also, knowing Marcell she expected him to dabble with the supernatural. Marcell's behavior was strange. Upon her return in the mornings he would cockily announce, "I knew you would return; it had to

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be." Following ritual dictum she was always rewarded with a few guilders. Thursday night before the washing ritual Marcell returned home from the winkel . He found the woman there and noticed that all the food he bought the day before was gone. She said she and her family were hungry and without money and she brought it to them. Marcell didn't believe her as he had just given her Sf 50 the day before to care for her and her family. Under threat of a beating she admitted that his brother had sent a message saying that he was without food or money. Marcell did nothing to her as not even a beating would change her ways. More drastic supernatural means had to be employed. Friday afternoon we went to the bonoeman ' s to arrange a time and place for the ceremony. Explaining the week's events, the bonoeman was pleased to hear how the woman was returning regularly, thus confirming Marcell 's partial control over her. The bonoeman was thoughtful as Marcell explained the food incident. The bonoeman suggested that they perform a ritual that would make the woman come live with Marcell permanently. The bonoeman drew up a list of items for Marcell to purchase. Tomorrow was Saturday and Marcell could buy everything he needed at the central market. The bonoeman could secure the other needed items and proceed with the washing on Sunday night. The other rituals would be scheduled the following week. Things must be done slowly

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230 ( safri-safrl ) to insure their success, the bonoeman told Marcell. No mention was made of payment which assured Marcell that he had contacted the right man and not a charlatan. Marcell gave him Sf 25 to purchase the necessary items. A list was drawn up and Marcell was to buy 1 tablespoon ( nang spoon ), 1 plate ( nang preti ), 1 piece of sugar cane ( pis 1 chen ) , 1 parrot tail feather (popokai teri), and 1 Indian clay pot ( prapi ) . The bonoeman would bring peanuts, sugar, ritual grasses ( wiwiri ) and other items. Much relieved, Marcell retired to the winkel to tell his story to the assembled men. Very little was said in his presence other than that he should be very careful. When Marcell was not at the winkel his story was debated endlessly and with fervor as everyone evaluated the situation from the past, present and future perspectives. Marcell was dealing with supernatural agents and one mishap or error could bring misfortune to him and perhaps others. The supernatural world is capricious, unpredictable, and not entirely understood by mortals. Marcell's life was laid open in the public forum. Word even reached Sissy and Sadie some blocks away. They complained that he was foolish spending all his money on the woman and it would be better if he gave it to them. Marcell knew this would be their reaction and that is why he had not kept them informed. The bonoeman arrived at the house S oÂ’clock Sunday night. I he Javanese, who was there cleaning, saw him enter the yard carrying all of his paraphernalia. Marcell was cold and aloof

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231 with her and, as the bonoeman entered the house, he gave her Sf 4 to go to the movies. The woman was quite shaken; she knew a bonoeman when she saw one. As the woman went out the door the bonoeman sat down and began assembling his items. To Marcell's acquisitions he added a handful of powdered rice, three pieces of raw cassava, a ten cent piece ( dubbelt je ) . a pile of sugar, a handful of shucked peanuts and a braided circular mat the size of a saucer. The bonoeman proceeded with the instructions. Set the clay pot ( prapi ) on the braided mat and place it in a corner of the sitting room. Take all the items except the parrot ^ a il feather, place them in the pot, and fill it up with water. The result was a sludge-like mixture on the bottom of the prapi , and a murky solution on the top. When Marcell washed in the morning he was to take a plastic bucket and place in it three cupfuls of the murky fluid. Leaving the Pjapy inside, where it must stay at all times, he must wash with the solution by hand. This completed he must take the "t a ll feather, dip it in the water, place it in his mouth, and while spewing out the droplets of water "say what he wants" ( taki san joe _e wani ) . The bonoeman elaborated. /X Marcell could either ask for good things to come his way sanx Hi .j oe sref i ) or curse others ( cos-cosi tra soema ) . There is no time limit on the ritual and Marcell may continue it for as long as he wishes . Washing every day for a month would suffice. After washing Marcell must replenish the water taken from the prapi .

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232 The bonoeman then asked if the brother was really MarcellÂ’s brother. Marcell told him it was true and that they both came from the same mother and father. Hearing this the bonoeman jumped from his chair and declared this impossible; brothers could not treat themselves in such a manner. He said, "There is no better thing than your own brother" (Nb> wan moro boen sani de leki brada ) . (In Suriname half brothers, especially those from different mothers, are not close and many times do not even know each other. The Creoles feel that since they are related through the father you really cannot be sure if they are in fact brothers.) The bonoeman cautioned Marcell and told him this state of affairs required a particularly demanding ceremony and in order to organize and execute it time, money and special items would be needed. The bonoeman would be responsible for certain items and asked Marcell to look for the following: 1 oema neku roetoe ( Lapmus cascavella ) (A root used by the Amerindians and Bush Negros to poison fish), one kaka fowroe (rooster), and a bottle of tafia (raw rum). Marcell said he would get one of the Bush Negros where he works to procure the root. The other items were easily accessible. They decided to do the ceremony next Saturday night. Before leaving the bonoeman took Sf 16 change from the Sf 25 Marcell had given him to buy the ingredients and threw it on the table (the items could not have cost more than Sf 3) . Marcell, in a state of euphoria inspired by his new confidence, casually waved his hand. The bonoeman took a

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233 Sf 10 note and left Sf 6 behind. The bonoeman looked Marcell in the eye and said he had a few suggestions for him. He rhetorically asked Marcell if the woman was not coming every day to clean and cook for him. Did he not think, surmised the bonoeman , that it would be better if he took the woman back to live with him again. He was providing her with money and goods and it would be safer as she is a weak person and possibly still under the partial control of the brother, if he brought her in and kept an eye on her (hori en boen ) . He could then be sure she would go to her lessons, not consort with other men, and made preparations to send her to Holland. (The bonoeman was never very infatuated with the last idea and rarely mentioned it, probably because he felt it was not likely to come about.) Marcell acquiesced and, when the woman came by the next day, he told her she could sleep there with him. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday passed without incident. The woman busied herself around the house and shopped; the only thing that distinguished her from being an ideal concubine was that she went to school. She was given strict instructions not to touch the prapi and its contents. Thursday it happened again. It would soon be clear to everyone that even stronger measures would have to be taken in what was turning out to be a very complicated circumstance. ' # That night at 5 p.m. Marcell returned from work and, before going to the winkel, told the woman to have food waiting for him upon his return about 10 p.m. She agreed but said she 1

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234 would have to go to class that night. Gould Marcell give her Sf 25 for fees due? He gave her the money and left. Returning that night he found the whole house closed and locked. He had left his key in his work clothes and could not get in. Neighbors told him that the woman left about 9 p*m. , far too late for her lessons. Waiting until past midnight he finally broke into the house and slept on the floor. Waking the next morning he found that the woman still had not returned. He rushed up the street to the woman's mother's cottage and, looking in through the broken shutters, saw the woman and his brother lying in bed together. Screaming and smashing the window he called for the brother to come out of the house and fight. In the ensuing hub-bub the woman dashed out the window and ran to the auxiliary police station down the street. Marcell knew better than to enter the mother's house uninvited as that was a criminal offense. Bellowing that he would kill the brother he was interrupted by the police. Reports from the neighbors and the looks on the antagonists' faces told the police this was no light matter. All three were brought to the police station to file a report. Sitting before two Creole detectives the brother began charging Marcell with aasault with intent to kill. Marcell reamined calm and in control. The police asked to whom the woman belonged and Marcell claimed her as he provides for her. The police asked who she was sleeping with and

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235 Marcell tipped his head towards his brother. Shocked and disgusted the detectives sent the brother out of the room. They had handled cases like this many times before, but never with blood brothers. They proceeded to interrogate the woman in Dutch. In her nervous state she was unable to respond with coherency in what for her was a foreign language. Ihey asked the following questions: "Were you sleeping with the brother last night 9 ” "Yes." "Had you been living with Marcell?" "Yes ." "Did he give you money for lessons'?" "Yes." "Did he give you spending monev 9 " "Yes." "Did he buy you food and clothes?" "Yes ." "Does the brother give you anything' 9 " "No." "Do you want to live with Marcell again 9 " "No." 6 "Do you want to lock Marcell up 9 " "Yes." The police were bewildered with this series of answers and obviously disgusted with her behavior. They accused her of being crazy (as everyone had been doing lately) for leaving a man who provided for her and going off to live with a bum. They told her that if they heard of her again they would lock her up in the local mental asylum. With that they sent her away. The police made obvious where their sentiments lay. They acknowledged to Marcell that his brother was using the woman to siphon off his monies. They condemned her mightily for male reasons. They asked Marcelj. if he still wanted her and he replied

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236 with an emphatic no. He was to control himself, said the police, for if he hurt her they would have to arrest him. He was told to bundle up her possessions and send for someone to retrieve them. Two officers would stop by later in the afternoon to make sure everything . went off as planned. As he left, they wished him well, sympathizing with his plight. Women, they agreed, were crazy. Marcell decided that this latest scandal was the last straw. He marched out of the station and on the way home made a stop at the travel agency to pick up his ticket deposit for the woman's migration to Holland. Arriving at the winkel he sent a small boy to tell the bonoeman there were new developments and they must talk. Taking a drink, before returning home to await the police, he told the men at the winkel that he had had enough and that his only desired revenge now was to make the woman his complete slave. Marcell bought a bottle of rum and returned to his house. While bundling up her clothes the two officers arrived. In a very official manner they seated themselves, withdrew paper and pencil, and began a very formal interrogation. Marcell told them nothing about the magic. While Marcell was reciting the sequence of events, the Creole officer began nervously twitching about in his seat and sniffing the air. Craning his head over the back of the seat he looked directly into the fermenting prapi . Evidently the officer thought he was in a situation where the formal judicial canons of Dutch law would be of little 1

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237 use. He closed his notebook, stopped Marcell's tale, and told the other officer they must quickly leave. They left abruptly. (Police have often been the victims of black magic . ) Finishing the bottle of rum, Marcell said that he would work with the bonoeman to recapture the woman. When he finished with her she would be a completely mindless slave answering his every whim. He would control her until he drove her mad and then send her to the asylum. Losing patience waiting for someone to retrieve the woman's clothes, Marcell picked up the bundle stuffed with clothing and dashed out the door. Sauntering up the middle the street to the woman's mother's he yelled obscenities and informed all interested parties (of which there were many as the street was lined with heads popped out of windows) of his latest mishap. Marcell strewed the woman's clothing in the street and the gutter. A trail of garments left a path from Marcell's house to the mother's. Although the street was full of people the garments were not touched. Marcell retired to the winkel . Half an hour later a police car containing two different officers, the woman and the brother pulled up. Curtly they ordered Marcell into the car and to the police station. His brother and woman called the police to arrest Marcell for willful destruction of property. Marcell had to be hauled bodily into the car by the two officers. The winkel crew looked on. None tried or were expected to help. Marcell had cooked his 1 own goose*

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Marcell was brought to the station held by one of the officers. Once out of the car he loosed himself from the grip and flew into a rage, kicking, biting and punching everyone within striking distance. Policemen charged from the building, and some with billy clubs beat him into submission. None of the officers knew of Marcell's (justifiable) plight and they treated him as a common .troublemaker. Once upstairs Marcell was brought before the two Creole detectives who originally handled his case. They apologized profusely for his treatment at the hands of the police and tried to calm him. There .was nothing the police could do except, once again, castigate the brother and woman. Cautioning Marcell not to physically harm them, the detectives devised a plan that would soothe MarcellÂ’s thirst for revenge. If the woman or the brother ever came to Marcell's house again, he was to immediately call the police and they would see to it that the couple was sent to the local insane asylum. As for the officers that beat Marcell, the detectives could do nothing. Marcell was confused and belligerent. He refused a ride home. Before collapsing in exhaustion at home he sent one last message to the bonoeman . It was imperative that they meet the next morning. Missing work did not deter Marcell in pursuing his grand design. Saturday morning Marcell waited at home for the bonoeman He had decided on a course of action and would propose it for advice and counsel. He wanted to exact

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239 revenge on the police who beat him up and also assure that this sort of thing would never happen again. He also wanted to bring the woman back to his house one more time. This accomplished he would make her his slave and drive her crazy. It is interesting to note that when Marcell explained what he would do to her when he made her his slave, the behavior differed very little from her regular housewoman role. To drive her mad he would slip the slimy inside membrane of a chicken egg over his penis the next time he had intercourse with her. The membrane would loosen with the friction and lodge inside of her. There it would "plug” her up ( verstop en) , rot ( pori ) and cause insanity ( lau ) . We discussed the events of the previous night and he was pleased that everyone in the neighborhood had reacted favorably to his behavior. In fact, he pointed out, in the last two weeks he had been approached by 5 women, two of whom wanted to come live with him. These females had heard he was having difficulties with his woman. Getting impatient, Marcell decided to walk to the bonoeman 1 s house. Once there, he brought the bonoeman up to date on the new developments: the woman had once again fallen into the clutches of the brother and the incident at the police station. Marcell implied that the bonoeman was not as powerful as he had first thought . With an air of authority motivated in part by indignation, the bonoeman gave forth with a disclaimer. Did not Marcell realize that the ritual performed had worked, for in fact f

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240 the woman had returned. Just because she left again was no reason for alarm. Any ritual, he pointed out, is not permanent j it may work for one day, one week, or one month, and anybody that tells you differently is a liar. Marcell was put at ease. The bonoeman was confident. The rituals would be performed that very night. For the ceremony against the police Marcell must find a flat stone, a rooster tail feather, and a ripe calabash gourd. In addition, Marcell must write the woman's name on a sheet of paper along with a summons ordering her return. Nervous that something might go wrong, Marcell said he wanted to write the message then and there and have the bonoeman approve it. Pen and paper in hand Marcell wrote the following: 5 Augustus, 1973 Kiram Sadodiroro Mie abi joe fanodoe. Joe moesoe kon na mie oso esi-esi van Dyke, Marcell "Yes," said the bonoeman . 5. August, 1973 Kiram Sadodiroro I have need of you. You must come to my house quickly, van Dyke, Marcell "that would surely work." It is important to note that this is the first time Marcell or the bonoeman (or any other Creoles aside from the police) ever used the woman's legal Javanese name. For this brief ritual she became a "person." At the completion of the ritual she became, once again, "the woman.” The bonoeman pointed out that he had been unsuccessful in locating any 0 ema neku ruru (fish poison root) for use in a ceremony to lure away -the -brother's other women. Marcell

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241 had not found any either. No matter, there were more important considerations now at hand. Before leaving Marcell drew Sf 10 from his pocket and presented it to the bonoeman who made a great show of refusal saying the ritual was not yet done. He pocketed the money after Marcell said, ’’This is small change. I have lost too much already.” (Disi na lau l au sens i , mi ben Iasi toemsi f oeroe kaba.) That evening Marcell awoke from a deep sleep and went immediately outside to look for the necessary items. Under the house he found a small rectangular stone two inches by two inches. Taking a stick from along side the house he knocked a ripe calabash from the tree. A small Hindustani boy was sent to retrieve a rooster tail feather from his father’s coop, while another went to purchase a bottle of rum. Arriving at 7 p.m. the bonoeman settled his large frame in a chair and proceeded to complain about what a busy day he had. He was dressed in city clothes, pants, pull-over jersey, and lace shoes, although in the comfort of his own house he wears Bush Negro garb. He placed the ritual items of a bread roll, bundle of grass, a bottle of cheap rum, and a plastic vial on the table. They began immediately. At night when everyone in the neighborhood is asleep, Marcell must dig a round hole one foot in diameter before his doorstep. He must then sprinkle half of the bottle of rum about the hole and invoke the spirit of the Ground Mother ( Gron Mama ) by chanting, "You have lived here for 1

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242 so long I need you." ( Joe ben libi djaso someni langa , mi a ki J° e fanodoe . ) Then he must take the bread, cut it in two pieces, eat half, and place the other half, in the hole. He then must place the note he wrote earlier in the day on top of the bread, sprinkle the remainder of the rum on the and while filling the hole recite the following: articles , Mi nanga a meisje ben Njan djaso someni langa meki en jeje kon njan djaso baka. Joe ben libi djaso fosi ten, no joe moesoe kon libi nanga mi baka. Kon njan a brede mie ben seti gi joe. This woman and I have eaten here for so long. Force her "soul" to come eat here again. You have lived here earlier, now you must come live with me again. Come and eat the bread I have set for you. To be doubly safe Marcell was told to do something that would keep the woman away from the brother. Tomorrow he must buy lemon juice and gunpowder ( kroiti ) . He must mix them together in a potion and paint the mixture in a circle around the brother's house. The woman will be unable to cross over the line. Marcell did that the following night. The ritual to protect Marcell from ever again suffering at the hands of the police followed. The bonoeman was confident; he had performed this ritual many times and it always worked. In fact, the day before he had performed a similar ceremony for a well-to-do mulatto lady who sought a favorable decision in a court case. The ritual, quite broad in scope, may be tailored to fit the situation. Placing the stone in the middle of the table, he emptied a pile of dried seed kernels called nengre kondre P e P re fr om the vial onto the stone. Taking up a handful y •

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243 of grass (man gr a s i ) the bonoeman began twisting and braiding it into long strands. Chanting in Saramakans . his tribal language, he tied the stone with the grass strands, untied it, and ordered the powers to make Marcell's spirit stay outside the stone. Repeating the action he ordered the spirit of the woman to remain outside the stone. The third time he tied the knot fast and ordered that the trouble between Marcell and the police stay inside the stone. < He then handed Marcell four nengre kondre pepre and told him to chew them and spit the remains on the stone while he, the bonoeman, continued to chant. Tomorrow morning when it is still dark, Marcell must take the stone and four more kernels of the pepre to the river and there repeat the spitting. Before he throws the stone in the water say, What you want to make the police incident abate." (San joe wani foe ko wroe a skotoe tori ) . (A number of ceremonies use the river to carry away unwanted problems, annoying spirits and melevolent ancestral ghosts.) Marcell followed the instructions the next morning. Marcell was pleased and confidently told the bonoeman he knew the woman would return so that he could kill her. With this the bonoeman jumped from his seat and told Marcell that he must not do this for it is "bad" ( ogri ) and that he did not want his wisi used to kill people. Perhaps, the bonoeman suggested, Marcell should stay with his original plan and only try to drive her mad. Marcell agreed. They were to talk tomorrow of the other rituals post-

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244 poned ostensibly because neither of them had located the necessary ingredients. In fact, the bonoeman appeared to be avoiding performing these rituals. Marcell retired to the winkel and only found teenagers playing cards. They made a few inquiries and Marcell brought them up to date, to their surprised exclamations. The wisi story would spread; trouble was brewing. At this point Marcell was averaging about three days a week at work. He told his foreman, a Creole, that he had a "need" ( fanodoe ) and the man understood entirely. Sunday afternoon found Marcell in the winkel . He mentioned the rituals performed the night before and that earlier today he had failed to find the bonoeman . He was sitting with Schill, Elder, Frankie and Chris and the conversation at hand jumped from topic to topic avoiding MarcellÂ’s affairs. By 9 oÂ’clock in the evening the crowd left. Elder was given a ride home and Schill and Marcell went along. Marcell had been uncommonly distant and quiet all day. Before reaching Elder's house, Marcell told the driver to stop the car in front of a large blossoming bush. Jumping out he began picking jasmine and red fayalobi blossoms. The men looked on and Elder finally walked over for a closer look. As Marcell knelt and picked a certain grass, Elder yelled out, "Who are you going to kill?" Marcell paid no attention and brought the flowers back to the car. Elder proceeded to his house, all the while lecturing Marcell on 1

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the problems he would have if he did something stupid like murder. Before going home Marcell told the following story to Schill . Last night after the ceremony Marcell had a dream. (Dreams are relied on heavily for their suggestive and i ve powers.) In the dream, the brother, the woman, and Marcell ' s half sister (who had a reputation of dabbling in the black arts) passed before Marcell each carrying a bouquet of jasmine, f ayalobi and dede roet oe (death root, the item that triggered ElderÂ’s outburst). They said nothing in the dream, a clear symbol of imminent death. The dream once again changed Marcell's evaluation of the woman's behavior: she was not responsible for her behavior but, rather, under the heavy spell of the wisi working brother. Again she was forgiven. Although he was angry and hurt, he convinced himself she was only innocently acting out the commands of others. To rectify the situation he decided he could stop at nothing short of capturing her soul. Monday evening he told his story in the winkel and pointed out for everyone to hear that he was no longer so angry with the woman. She was weak and dumb and it was the brother who was entirely at fault. She, he surmised, had to be cared for. That evening Marcell went to the b onoeman and told him of the dream and his interpretation. The bonoeman agreed to the ceremony to capture the girlÂ’s soul. Tomorrow night a^ S oj clock they would meet.

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Word of this arrangement was already being passed through the neighborhood by everyone who had been in the winkel . The next day Marcell arrived at the winkel at 5 oÂ’clock and drank there quietly for three hours. Home, he found the bonoeman pacing impatiently in his yard. They entered the house and got down to business. The bonoeman asked Marcell where he wanted the ritual performed, and Marcell said upstairs in the sleeping room so the neighbors could not see. The bonoeman identified the items he had brought along. One pimba block and pimba powder (ceremonial white powder, the consistency of chalk, used in many Creole rituals), one porcelain Chinese rice bowl ( komki ) , one papa moni shell, one ten cent piece, one egg, one parrot tail feather, one handkerchief, three vials of perfume, one bundle of grass ( sanÂ’ gra foe wiwiri ) , three drinking tumblers, and a bucket filled with water from the pump in Marcell 's yard. Marcell nervously sat on the edge of the bed and watched the bonoeman intently. Sitting on his haunches, the bonoeman drew the following symbol on the floor with the white pimba powder (Figure Twenty-two) . Turning to Marcell, the bonoeman asked him on what day the woman was born. Marcell told him Saturday, and the bonoeman replied that throughout the following ceremony the woman would be referred to by her Afro-Creole day name "Kwamina ."

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247 lines traced with pimba powder small pile of pimba powder Papa mom "shell FIGURE TWENTY-TWO RITUAL SYMBOL USED IN CEREMONY

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243 This is the second and last time the woman was referred to by a name. It is important to note that she was given an Afro-Creole ritual name and, at least, symbolically drawn into the Creole group and made subject to Creole rules _ and regulations. When bonoemen provide services (spirit dances, postmortem rites, therapeutic or black magic} for their clients, they usually do not use the person's Christian name, but employ the spiritually powerful day name. At least one opposition, Creole-Javanese, was dropped from consideration in this case. Beginning to chant in Saramakans, the bonoeman called out "Kwamina" and told her to return to take her money. Repeating this over and over in a low-excited voice he set the ten cent piece squarely in the middle of the symbol. On that he set the papa moni shell, and the parrot feather. He leaned the egg against the small pile. Marcell watched carefully as the bonoeman sprinkled water about the room from a clean glass. The sleeping room was now completely dark save the flicker of one candle. Marcell was growing agitated and began wringing his hands. Commanding the spirit of the woman to return the bonoeman placed a glass full of water on the left and right hand sides of the symbol. Abruptly ceasing his chant he ordered Marcell to take a chair, place it over the symbol and sit in it. Marcell began perspiring profusely as his breathing quickened and his eyes narrowed. Taking a vial of perfume, the bonoeman sprinkled the heavy musky scent on the handkerchief. He

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249 bioke the second vial and dumped its contents on Marcell's bare chest. Marcell gasped and jumped. As the room became filled with the cheap suffocating vapors, the bonoeman took the komki and placed the ten cent piece, shell, and feather in xl. A pinch of pi mb a from the four piles flanking the symbol was put in as well. Beginning his chant, he placed the egg in the oo mchi and filled it up to the brim with water. After five more minutes of commanding the spirit of the woman to return, he took the sceneted handkerchief and draped it over Marcell's outstretched left hand. With Marcell's arm extended full length the bonoeman . placed the komki in Marcell's upturned palm. The slightest quiver would spill the water over the brim. The muscles of Marcell's forearms, biceps and shoulders tightened as he stared intensely at the still container. Not a drop spilled. Continuing his chant the bonoeman told Marcell the presence of the woman's spirit would be signalled by the spilling of the water. After 15 minutes of chanting and incantation, admonishing, cajoling and enjoining the woman, Marcell's arm was still steady. The bonoeman suggested that perhaps Marcell had spilled a bit, but Marcell refuted him by saying between pants that the spirit was not there. The bonoeman continued for 10 more minutes now suggesting that the water was spilling. Marcell had been holding his arm in such a fashion for almost half an hour. The bowl quivered slightly and one droplet ran over the side. Seeing this the bonoeman began yelling, "She is

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250 here, she is here." Marcell started, spilled the liquid, and let out a blood curdling scream. He smashed the komki on the floor sending the contents flying. Holding his head with both hands he lay prostrate in the chair. His scream continued unabated for thirty seconds. The bonoeman backed off as Marcell rose flailing from the chair. Veins in his neck bulging as he smashed his hands against the wall until the bonoeman wrestled him to the ground. Exhausted, Marcell collapsed unconscious for almost 20 minutes. He had successfully drawn the woman's spirit into himself. First slapping him, then throwing water in his face and finally rubbing the juices from some crushed grasses between his toes and on his eyelids, the bonoeman revived him. The bonoeman declared the ritual a success and stated that the woman would return in three days or sooner, even to live with Marcell if he so wanted. It was clear from Marcell 's violent reaction that the brother had been working some magic against him, but all was right now, as the bonoe man had removed the woman's spirit from the brother's hands and placed it in Marcell's charge. If properly executed a magical ceremony secures the desired ends. Barring contingencies such as competition from another magician, the ritual participant merely follows the rules, both supernatural and secular, set down by the magician and his wishes must materialize. The day after the ritual was performed, Marcell blundered. He did not give the "supernatural agents" time to work, but

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251 in a fit of anger and frustration took matters into his own hands and upset the processes at work. The night after the ceremony I stopped at the winkel and met Chris. He was in the thick of a discussion with the winkel crew about Marcell. Consensus had it that he was crazy for pursuing the woman so far and that he was treading on unsure grounds. Her affairs with the brother fit the image most of the men carry of women. Chris brought me up to date on the day's events. Mar cell was walking to the winkel that afternoon and passed a Javanese restaurant that he has passed every day for the last six years. Casually looking inside he was shocked to see the Javanese woman working inside selling sundries . Rushing to the bar he demanded to know what she was doing. This was the first job she had taken on her own since he met her. Word got to the winkel and triggered the evening's discussion. Everyone knew she was supposed to come to Marcell and not he to her. I went to the cafe and found Marcell deep in conversation with the woman. She was hostile and would not meet 'his eyes when he addressed her. He was ashamed that his exwoman (and the one he wanted back) would be working at such a menial job in a public place. He had given her the opportunity to better herself, go to school, live in a comfortable well-provisioned home and eventually go to Holland. She gave no explanation, telling him only to go away. Hearing this, Marcell turned and in wide-eyed amazement

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252 said, "She is crazy, I know my brother made her crazy." For the next hour he insisted on telling hery-a-nd anyone else who would listen, that she was crazy. He promised that if she came back to him he would make her better and see to it she was cured. Marcell was convinced of foul play. "You see," he pointed out, "it is not her I am talking to, but to something evil." He gave up and went outside to smoke a cigarette. Shortly after, he called her outside, and taking two one hundred guilder notes from his pocket thrust them in her hand and told her to take care of herself. She refused saying she didn't want Marcell or his money. What magic, thought Marcell, would make a woman give back Sf 200? After much banter she finally accepted the proffered cash. Marcell justified the transaction by saying that in her state she would doubtless give the money to the brother who would spend it on food, drink and clothing for himself. This would give Marcell an edge in gaining control over him. Fortunately the winkel men did not hear of this. Marcell would have been convicted as a "sucker" and demolished by the ribald Syriname sense of humor. Marcell proceeded to cast a steady stream of venom on her. For over an hour he told her she was insane and bewitched. She had been hearing this from all quarters for the last two months and may have believed it . Marcell asked to be taken to the bonoeman immediately. Before the bonoeman he poured forth his story. The bonoeman

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253 with a look of dismay on his face, calmed him and said he • would go with Marcell that very minute and perform a ritual to resolve this problem. Amid protests from the bonoeman , Marcell demanded that he stop and see the woman before the ceremony was performed. The bonoeman tried to persuade him to avoid a confrontation with the woman and rely on his magic but Marcell was belligerent. Sitting in the car the bonoeman said that this was going to be a very difficult case as Marcell had caused enough trouble already (toemsi foeroe trobi kaba) . It is better, said the bonoeman , if he would behave more discretely and mind his manners and have respect for people. Marcell’s behavior was going against the grain of magic. The bonoeman gave an example of a case he had just completed. If a woman leaves, you should go about getting her back softly and slowly, following the advice of a man "who knows things." By making trouble with a woman you only make a mess ( pori a sani) , The bonoeman decided Marcell was about to ruin everything, and entered the bar. Interrupting Marcell's barrage of insults, he smiled kindly at the woman and asked how she was. Recognizing the bonoeman she dropped her eyes and politely responded. He asked her what was wrong and she said that she did not want to live with Marcell. Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, and now almost saccharine in his kindness, the bonoeman smiled, touched her lightly on the shoulder and said, "But you will, you will." 5

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254 Atthe house, the bonoeman laid out the ingredients for the ceremony to once again recapture the woman. There was one rooster tail feather, a bottle of lavender lotion, nengre kondre pepre , and a black substance that had the consistency of wet steel wool. Marcell retrieved the calabash he had cut the week before and a pair of the woman's soiled underwear he had hidden. After cutting the calabash in half and making a container of it, he handed Marcell the underwear and told him to tie them into a knot while calling the woman's day name. Handing the panties back, the bonoeman loosed the knot and while retying it mumbled a powerful "obia" ( dipi fosl ten nengre o o i a ) to make the woman return. The same tying procedure was done to the rooster tail feather. Both items were mashed up in the calabash with the wiry substance. The heavy smelling lotion was then poured in. Given eight kernels of the nengre kondre pepre , Marcell chewed them, spun around three times and spit the mush into the calabash. The container was then closed with the other half of the calabash. Marcell gave the bonoeman an unsolicited Sf 25, feeling apparently relieved. Before leaving the bonoeman reminded him that under no circumstances was he to visit the woman again or attempt to contact her in any way. She would return. Marcell followed the man's orders to the letter. His free time was spent at the winkel where he discussed his

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255 future plans. He wanted very much to take a woman away from his brother and discussed the story with the men. A number of winkel men knew the woman, whom the brother had just impregnated, Marcell had in mind. She would soon hear of Marcell's plans. Saturday morning Marcell was awakened by noises down— stairo . It was the Javanese woman. She claimed she had returned only to give him some vegetables she had bought. She explained she had spent Sf 50 of the money he had given her on school fees and medical costs, but would give the rest back. Marcell was pleased; not only had she returned but it appeared that she was no longer under the spell of his brother. They continued to talk and Marcell was astonished by her pleasant conduct and manners. She was herself; even better. Marcell welcomed her back to his house and promised to continue her education and "cure" her. When I asked if he thought she moved back because she was out of money, Marcell scoffed at me. Sunday, the day after the last ceremony, Marcell threw out the prapi used in the washing ceremony. He felt he no longer needed a protective charm. However, he refused to remove the calabash used in her latest "return" ceremony. He had been misled and mistaken before.' Although she protested and said the calabash frightened her (Mie skin _e grow t e mie sie en) , Marcell was adamant. Monday, the woman told Marcell she wanted money to fix * 1

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256 up the house, and also to buy a television and a radio. Marcell protested that he had spent too much already on the bonoeman and that he had other debts to pay as well as saving for her ticket to Holland. She then said that she wanted to have a baby with him. Marcell _ refused . In the first place, It would make it more difficult for her to go to Holland (she still did not want to go) and it would also foist more responsibility on him. If she got pregnant Marcell promised he would beat her. The woman does not use contraceptives, but years ago went to a Javanese masseuse. The Javanese undergo massage treatment which somehow closes the fallopian tubes and prohibits conception. This is widely known in Suriname. During the course of the next week I visited Marcell at home and discovered him sitting quite domestically with the woman. The objects of their admiration were a new television and radio. He had taken out a loan at work and bought them that very day (the television for Sf 450 and the radio for Sf 50) . Before leaving for a drink, he ceremoniously poured a bottle of perfume in the calabash while the woman stared wide-eyed . With the new T.V. and radio in the house I did not think Marcell had to rely any longer on magic to hold her in the house. Over ,rum he told me he was considering not sending her away if she continued to behave so well. Life proceeded as usual. One evening at the winkel he announced to the men that he was now ready to act against

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257 his brother. They offered him little sympathy. Let sleeping dogs lie, they agreed. He was insistent and left for the bonoeman* s . Asking how things were going, the bonoeman nodded smugly when he heard of the woman's behavior. Marcell pointed out that plans must be made to punish his brother. The bonoeman hesitated. Very thoughtfully he focused his eyes on Marcell and told him it was better to forget about the brother. Marcell then asked about the woman's sister; he still wanted i to hurt her for her complicity. The bonoeman again replied in the negative. Better, he told Marcell, if you concentrate on keeping the woman at home. In effect he was telling Marcell to concentrate on the sure thing and forget about other matters. The bonoeman is no fool. As a born psychologist and one privy to gossip, he knew the woman would have eventually returned to her benefactor Marcell. However, it was beyond his power supernaturally and socially to guarantee the results of the two rituals Marcell now wanted. It was the winkel men who would perform this service for Marcell. Later, Marcell stopped for a drink and a lengthy discussion of the characteristics of woman. Although speaking in general Marcell used himself as an example. He repeatedly cited a common refrain: "If you do not provide for a woman, she will take another man." ( Efoe joe pina wan oema, a go _t eki tra man.) In short, a man can buy a woman's allegiance like a commodity. A man can have relationships with other

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women, but if he provides for his woman, she under no circumstances may waka-waka with other men. He spent the rest of the evening convincing himself that he must provide handsomely for the support of the woman. A few days later a new expensive electric frying pay sat proudly on the gleaming refrigerator. The bonoeman and Marcell had little .formal contact after their last meeting. Marcell's decision. about his brother and the woman's sister remained unresolved. After the woman's return Marcell's reputation in the neighborhood skyrocketed. He was nick-named "iron heart" and everyone was impressed, with his powers and courage. The brother was disgraced and rarely entered the neighborhood . Marcell devised a new plan. Gradually losing interest m his brother and his woman's sister he told me he wanted to perform an "experiment" with the woman. The next week he would send her to her sister's house in Nickerie (a district bordering Guyana) for a week. If the woman came back from so far away it would be final proof that the series of rituals had worked. Other things helped determine this decision. Ever since the beginning of the ceremonies Marcell had continued seeing his old girl friends and had made new contacts. With the Javanese living with him he had no place to take these women. The next week he could take a week off and, with his woman away, entertain the women who have been beseeching him.

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As Marcell put it, "The dog looks for bones all the time, but sometimes the bone looks for the dog.” (Ala ten dagoe so_ekoe bonjo , ma 1 so lezi bonjo soekoe dagoe.) Ihe first day of Marcell’s week off opened gloriously. He was his old pleasant, witty and gregarious self again. A drink of rum, a coy remark to a passing beauty, and a joke shared with the assembled crew. Yesterday the woman left for Nickerie. The bonoeman also stopped. by. to borrow Sf 10. Marcell told his story to the winkel crew. He did not delve into personal data surrounding the recent possession ceremony, but painted in broad outline what happened. The men were all interested but could not justify the huge expenditures of time, money and emotion. Four of his seven free nights were spent with different women. Then the Javanese returned home. There was no special ceremony or welcome to mark her reentry. She confirmed the efficacy of the ritual; and why not, she had everything to gain. During her absence, however, something happened. While sitting in the winkel Marcell was approached by a young woman. It was the brother's woman, the very one Marcell wanted to capture through magic. Marcell immediately assumed that he had undergone such a powerful sequence of rituals that, by contagion, he had brought her here under his umbrella of influence. Marcell, it seemed, was the master of his universe. Seeing that she was in an advanced state of pregnancy,

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260 he decided against immediate sexual intercourse.. She continued to visit him almost every night at the winkel for the next two weeks. During the course of their conversations she told him of the harsh and horrible, treatment she suffered at the hands of his brother; how she was now pregnant with not a guilder of support from anyone; and how she would like to be with a man as powerful as Marcell. Prior to this she had not known Marcell nor had he known her. Word had spread from the winkel and with a message such as Marcell was broadcasting she would have come whether magic was being done or not. Every night after their brief talks Marcell gave her a guilder or two for the next day's food. To him this was a sign of his control over her. Two weeks later Marcell showed me a charge sheet from a hospital. On it was a schedule of charges for maternity care: Sf 360 for five days of first class care to Sf $9 for fourth class. His brother's woman had informed Marcell of her lack of money for hospital fees. Marcell agreed to pay fourth class costs. This would extend his supernatural control over her and the child. The winkel men feel he is foolish for spending money on a woman who is the responsibility of another man. Marcell says it is his ritual responsibility. The pregnant girl is merely acting out a role magically designed. Riding through town the next day I asked Marcell if he had had further contact with the bonoeman . Marcell said no, everything had been postponed. Occasionally the bonoeman •9

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261 comes to borrow money. On the way home Marcell yelled through the window to a woman who turned out to be the Javanese woman's sister. The conversation started with her cursing him mightily. She had heard of his designs. He was calm and in complete control of the situation and after her outburst proceeded to smooth her ruffled feathers. Could he come, to visit her and talk things over. Elevating nose skyward and squinting at him out of the corners of her eyes she replied yes. Since starting out on his adventure into the realm of magic three months ago, Marcell had accomplished every one of the tasks he had set for himself. The direction, thrust, and content of these goals have been modified by many outsiders, the most influential being the bonoeman . Marcell had first wanted a charm ( tapoe ) to protect him from suspected black magic (wisi) directed by his brother. The w asi skin (body washing) was performed and Marcell was not victimized. Marcell wanted his woman to return and, after a lengthy series of ceremonies culminating in the capture of her spirit, the woman returned. The bonoeman had pointed out that the effect of this ritual may only be temporary. Marcell wanted sexual access to the brother's latest woman. This he received, since after the birth of her r children, Marcell initiated a visiting relationship with her. Although a specific ritual was never performed, Marcell feels that the totality of magical power generated t

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262 by preceding rituals broke his brother's control and forced this woman to seek him out. Marcell wanted sexual access to the Javanese woman's sister as a form of revenge for the treatment he suffered at her hands. The ritual for this end was never performed. Marcell never did establish an intimate relationship with her, but they are on speaking terms and there are no obvious problems between them. Both Marc ell and the neighborhood are happy everything has worked out so well. Social equilibrium has been reestablished. Marcell 's problems were all solved by neighborhood level institutions and behavior patterns. The winkel was instrumental in effecting what Marcell wanted. It was a forum which acted as a conservative, advising body, when Marcell had rash or dangerous plans. Daily he would tell the crew members what had happened and what his plans were. Word spread through gossip and everyone involved with Marcell, either for him or against him, knew what he was doing. When he decided not to physically beat the woman for her wayward behavior, but to forgive her, take her back, and provision her, the word went out mofo radio (mouth radio). Word of his interest in the brother's destitute woman (and Marcell was widely recognized as a handsome provider) followed the same networks . Marcell did not rely on the police, the courts, the church or specialized organs of the government to solve his problems. Nor did he turn to his closest relative Sissy (FaSi)

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and Sadie her daughter. Many times they did not have the slightest idea of what he was up to. Like many others they were critical or exploitive of his extravagant behavior; and once Sadie had asked him if, since the woman was gone, she could have his refrigerator. Marcell's father was called upon for sanction. During the ritual process Marcell continued with his remittances to both these parties. Other unattached women in the neighborhood were standing by to take advantage of any lucrative change of events in his situation. As word spread that the woman left him, a number of women sought Marcell out. He would later, in a better state of mind, make contact with them. His work suffered, but not irreparably. During the intensest phase of the rituals he missed on the average of two days a week. The high level Dutch and American bosses would neither tolerate nor understand Marcell's dilemma. Fortunately there were foremen and workers who understood his problem who could make excuses for him. The bonoeman , of course, was necessary to the whole process. In the functioning of the neighborhood which was thrown out of equilibrium by Marcell's problem, the magical ceremonies were a catalyst, and through their suggestive powers and symbolic sanction of proper behavior, primed everyone involved. People were forced to behave as the magic dictated. But people do not live in a mysterious world of supernatural processes. They live in a very real world concerned with eating, clothing, other human beings

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264 and their status in the community. As they followed the magical dictates of the ceremonies they were all behaving as they must and should act in acceptable community forms . Nothing strange or abberant resulted from the magic, only the expected and the normal. Marcell, and the entire local community, were acting in normal fashion as the rituals reconstructed and reconstituted social processes gone temporarily awry. Normal ground rules for interaction had been restored . The bonoeman knew this, and would not commit himself to a ritual that called for something against the community grain. The rituals to force the woman to return were elementary. Given what he knew about Marcell, the brother and the woman, the bonoeman knew it was only proper and logical that she come back. The charm to protect Marcell was not a careless excursion. No harm would come to him as long as he felt secure and safe from his own thoughts and fears. If the brother were to shoot him, that act would i n the realm of the secular, something not guaranteed by a tapoe . All the actors in the drama did what was expected of them. The woman is still living with Marcell. Marcell is still visiting his old girlfriends. Marcell has not yet bought her a ticket to go to Holland (he cannot because he t voluntarily has spent all his money on items to keep her with him). Marcell is his old self. By the standards of the men who participate in the winkel subculture Marcell

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265 is a very normal man — with a large budget . Marcell' s rite of passage from his aunt’s household to a new household with concubine was more difficult than most. The general pattern of extra-residential mating with a series of women, fissioning off from a consanguineal household and eventual establishment of a (temporary) neo-local relationship required magical assistance. The neighborhood had withstood a series of severe disturbances in its preferred interaction. Marcell’s dilemma had upset relationships that previously, had been in equilibrium. Normal inter-ethic communication. ( Creole-Javanese) was strained. Inter-consanguine relationships were altered by the establishment of new residential arrangements. New conjugal relationships were reactivated or created. There had taken place an extreme case of male competition caused by a violation of brotherhood and a form of female exchange and sharing unacceptable by Creole standards. The immediate parties concerned and the neighborhood as a system could not cope with these altered states of interaction. Things had to be brought back to normal. A marginal was brought in to right the wrongs and reestablish preferred patterns. The bonoeman * s first step in the ritual restoration of normalcy was to create a myth for his client: a supernatural diagnosis. The brother and the woman were bewitched and Marcell would shortly fall under these evil spells if he did not seek supernatural aid and protection. Magical symbols were used rather than the formal 1

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266 state organs of police, courts, churches and insane asylums. The series of rituals were a success and Marcell was able to reestablish a normal male— female relationship. The Javanese does in fact behave as his slave but the role, as he defines it, differs but little from normal, housewoman roleo. Actually his choice of a Javanese woman as dependent housewoman was wise; Creole women are much more independent and exercise a good deal more extra-household movement. Nothing extraordinary resulted from the rituals. Throughout this entire process Marcell did not deactivate any of his links to other households; in fact he added more thiough his growing contacts with accessible women. During °-f this he frequented the winkel , as a way station between households and a place to go to interact with neutral "others" and is now regularly found there between work and visits with his women aunt, cousin, lovers and concubine. All is back to normal for the time being. ^

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267 NOTES: CHAPTER V 1. In discussing Marcell's relationship with this woman, I do not call her by name, but rather refer to her as "the Javanese," "the woman," or "the Javanese woman." I am recounting this story through Creole winkel eyes, and never once did Mar cell, the ' winkel crew or neighborhood women call the woman by name (nor did they care to learn the name). When on good terms with the woman .Marcell would occasionally refer to her as "my child" (mi pikin ) . This woman was a non-person to the Creoles except on two ritual occasions. This is explained further in the text. 2. There are more complicated categories of magical practitioners in Creole eyes. The categories overlap and, depending on the situation or rite to .be performed, a practitioner may be a loekoeman (diviner and diagnostician), a bonoeman (practitioner oi therapeutic magic) or a wisiman ( practitioner of black magic) . Some magicians do only bonoe (therapeutic) while others do all types. The man Marc ell knows calls himself a bonoeman and never has been referred to differently although he admits having done some wisi (sorcery). For a discussion of this see Wooding (1973)* 3. Excellent discussions of ritual as an intense statement of a complex process can be found in Turner ( 1969 ), van Gennep (i 960 ), and Buechler and Buechler (1971)* The authors deal with symbol and ritual as model and process in a community setting. For a theoretical discussion of ritual therapy in Suriname and more ethnographic data, see Wooding (1972).

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CHAPTER VI CONCLUSION Winkel Behavior , Serial Polygyny and Household Form Throughout their lives the men who gather at the winkel establish a variety of relationships with women. In their childhood and youth these men were aligned with consanguineal families — mothers, aunts, grandmothers — living in dispersed households. Experimental extra-residential mating in teenage years brought them into contact with a number of other women, with both males and females maintaining full time domestic and residential arrangements in the households of their consanguines . The transition to adulthood for a lower class Creole male is marked largely by his access to capital resources, his financial maturity. Securing this, and some do not, he simultaneously loosens his ties with the household of origin and spends more time at the winkel with his fellows. The age there varies from early twenties to sixties, as does income, which ranges from scarcely Sf 175 per month to salaries soaring over Sf LOO per month. From this winkel base, and for most of their lives, the men form their many and shifting relationships with women and households. The regular members of the winkel crew, those men who congregate with greater frequency and regularity than other 26S

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269 customers, have two things in common. First, viewed over a time span and barring temporary and incidental misfortune, they are all financially solvent. Second, they have maintained residential and domestic links with members of their consanguineal families while engaging in a variety of simultaneous mating relationships with a number of women. Freilich (1961: 966) seeks to portray these relationships of "serial polygyny" in the fashion of an equilibriumseeking system. He observes that: "The frequent changing of spouses, which could act as factor of instability in the system, is balanced by lifelong membership in a matrifocal family." (Freilich uses matrifocal family in the same sense that I use consanguineal family. I feel the latter term is more accurate. See Gonzalez, 1970.) In short, although males and females establish multiple mating relationships, they always have a consanguineal anchor to which they can return. This is indeed true. Males can activate kinship ties and thereby lay claim to certain services through particular consanguines . But we must not visualize the process too simply: that is, as a one-dimensional sequence of events with a male leaving his concubine, returning to his consanguines, establishing a new extra-residential mating arrangement, leaving his consanguineal base and finally reestablishing a concubinal relationship again. Network analysis cast in a time depth would indicate that a male has simultaneous and long-term, relationships with a number of women, regardless of his present residence in

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27C space. Simply because he has moved away from a concubine and back to his consanguines does not mean he has permanently dissolved the relationship with her or with any of the other women he was visiting while he was living with her. Elaborate support networks are maintained with these women though on a different order of frequency and content. As males pass through the life cycle they build up an increasing repertoire of ex-mates and children. These indeed are part of a personnel network surrounding ego. To use the much abused term network is in many cases too facile. Not all the relationships with these network personnel are activated, and it is unlikely that they would ever be activated all at the same time. The result resembles a "quasi-group" (Mayer, 1966): a group of people — consanguines, lovers, friends, winkel crew, etc. — that surrounds ego and provides him with a wide source of exploitable social capital. When ego strategically contacts certain persons that may have lain dormant in his quasi-group, he activates about him an "action set" that is cohesive (for ego) and exists for the duration of his needs. For a service, or series of different services, perhaps mutually exclusive but occurring at the same time, ego may draw upon different persons within his group of kin, friends, lovers, etc. to expedite his needs. In situations such as this, the analysis of only the sedentary point in space — household — is misleading. The quasi-group formulation suggests that instrumental relationships may span many different households at the same or different points in time. 1 In terms of simple economic support, males act as vital

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271 links between dispersed households, each of which may or may not be in contact. with one or all of the others. The type of support varies (as does the schedule of remittance); old age care for parents or endeared consanguines , child support payments, gifts to lovers, and so forth. The support networks are many and are critical props to what at first appears as neatly bounded corporate households. In short, an accurate appraisal of household as family and domestic unit must be set in a broader context of kindred, descent group, friends, lovers, neighbors, club members, and winkel crew, all intertwined and articulated by larger ongoing time cycles and schedules. A word of caution, however, lest we overreact and swing our focus entirely upon males. Females play social contacts one off the other and formulate relationships with men and women with the same social agility. The two cycles of men and women spinning on their axes of winkel , households, consan— guineal families, and neighborhood groups determine the form and content of lower class households, and the use of such cultural instrumentalities as time and space. Winkel and Household Links Much of the literature on lower class West Indian life describes a world populated by women and children living within the parameters set by household, hearth and market place. Men, if mentioned, are noted as the (potential) breadwinners, either off working or down at the shop or pub (winkel).

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272 When not working, sleeping, eating, or involved marginally in some domestic chore that devolves upon him in the sexual division of labor, lower class males can be found most regularly at the winkel . But no mistake should be made. The men who can afford to participate in winkel life and in a number of households are indeed active participants in the occupational hierarchy of downtown as well.^ Upon completion of their tasks in the cash economy world these men return to the neighborhood. However, in seeking the proper unit of observation in which to observe these men and their interactions — a socio-geographilcal locus — I suggest we focus on the winkel rather than the household. It is in the winkel that the male builds his reputation with other males and finds a good deal of his recreation and enjoyment. The winkel is the one regular and recurrent point in space about which males congregate and disperse for most of their lives. Jobs may be shifting, temporary and erratic — as may household relationships. Life can be capricious, and the winkel absorbs shocks and disturbances in male interaction generated by other institutions in the society (e.g. loss of job, departure from a household, etc.). In this association forum, equilibrium is reestablished. A male indeed returns to his consanguineal family, or visits women extra-residentially, or lives in concubinage. Viewed in a larger time span it emerges that these relationships are temporary; some recurrent, some not. The boundaries of the group (action set) in which males are active members

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273 change with time and situation. His membership in the winkel stays fairly steady and regular. The winkel is a sort of headquarters. Clusters of male egos located in the winkel have complex and enduring support networks and contacts radiating out from them and linking them up with various households dispersed over space. As discussed in Chapter V, most of the connections are through the mechanisms of kinship and mating. The winkel is much more than an isolated building on a corner in a neighborhood; it is a male point in space about which many household and neighborhood social relationships revolve. To understand fluctuations in household form is to go further than to look at consanguineal and concubinal households and some sort of linear alternation of participation in one or the other." Many simultaneous overlapping contacts are established as well as relationships that are thrown into relief only at different points in time. The Winkel as Headquarters The men of the winkel crew talk constantly about being "good men" ( goede man and boen soema in Dutch and Sranan Tongo respectively) and try regularly to maintain this image with their fellow crew members. Should someone intentionally or unintentionally break this informal code by, for example, attempting to be something he is not (Russel's new radio), being especially bellicose, or abusing the support mechanisms of the group, there are active status leveling devices that reestablish equilibrium.

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274 .The men like to think that they are all equal, although it is obvious they are not and display it in their behavior. There is an ingroup status hierarchy. However, the intragroup differences are never explicitly stated or thrown into sharp relief for this would upset and overwhelm the threads and themes that draw the men together. In many ways the men who gather at the winkel have no place else to go. Without exception, they are all marginal participants in the various households of which they are members. They have not made a total commitment to any household (i.e. point in space). These men did not "flee to the street corner" (Liebow, 1967), but rather gather there almost naturally between their excursions to downtown and to their various households . The winkel is their one neutral and accessible point. Only the teenagers, the old and the poor find full time, regular participation beyond their reach. This is generally supported by looking at the life cycle. Young males, before they are mature wage earners and before they begin mating regularly, are full-time members of their consanguineal households. Economic maturity and sexual appetites make them eligible to pursue women seriously. Almost simultaneously as the male establishes mating contacts with women (support networks) he drifts further from his consanguines (if not a physical removal in space, at least less support in goods, services, time and capital) and gradually moves into the winkel membership. During his active wage earning and sexually adult years his winkel 1

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275 relationships . "firm up" and the male, a node between a number of households, settles into winkel life. Older men are spun off from the winkel . Perhaps it is still accurate to use the variables of economic and sexual vitality in this instance as well. As males get older (their fifties and sixties) they tend to establish more stable relationships with women (households). Faithful concubinage and even marriage to insure inheritance and transmission of property are often the result. Failing this, an older man can try to reestablish a permanent residential arrangement with his consanguines . This is difficult if a male has been absent for a good deal of his life or his "main link" with the household — sister, mother, mother of one of his sets of children, etc. — is deceased. It is not uncommon for children to be unaware of their father's identity. Nonetheless, older men attempt to commit themselves to a household. At the same time, a decreased wage earning capacity reduces their cash on hand. The inter-play between decreased wages and full time household commitment usually reduces an older man's participation in winkel affairs to a minimum. It is the adult men with viable salaries and multiple household contacts that fill the winkel crew. One of the winkel crew, Mr. Rijker, maintained a delicate balance between winkel life and full time commitment to one household where he was a married spouse. He often took part in the joviality, banter and drink buying (he could afford it), 1

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276 but after he left it would be mentioned by the assembled men that "he just isn't, one of us." Time was an expensive lien on Mr. Rijker. He always spent less time at the winkel than the other men; household and domestic duties beckoned. Money could be spent for a few drinks, but a flambouyant dispersal was prohibited by a careful wife who kept an eye on the budget. (She had no other men to support her.) Mr. Rijker worried too; he wanted a good education for the children he had made with his wife (and not his "other" children whom he only minimally supported) . Mr. Rijker's departure from the group was signaled by an event (there were other reasons, see Chapter III) that would have nonplussed none of the other winkel men. He wanted the best for his children and expected that one day his daughters would all be married. Shame was brought upon the family when his 19 year old daughter was made pregnant by a neighborhood scoundrel. He felt he could not face the men. They, on the other hand, thought nothing of it. Their daughters , distributed in many households, with many mothers, had been impregnated already. The winkel is accessible to men. There are no strict entrance requirements, scheduled commitments, or rites of passage. A well behaved man with a good reputation must merely drop by and make his presence known. At the beginning, the winkel crew will be cautious, but after observing the "initiate" over a period of time, discussing his background and finding his qualities acceptable, the porous group

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277 boundaries absorb him. Departure is just as easy; one leaves. This type. of behavior is replicated in. a. man's dealings with women. The nature of interaction between men and between men and women is quite similar. Other than agreeable conversation and financial solvency, the winkel places no stringent requirements on the crew members. Many keep erratic schedules and drop in when circumstances permit. However, they are redrawn into the group. (This may seem to contradict Mr. Rijker's case, who was a marginal because of his lack of time commitment. His use of time was of another order. Indeed, he would stop in regularly, but his interaction was neither intense nor of long duration. He would have a bottle or two of beer and probably start talking about his children — a topic in which the other men were less than interested. Other men who stop in irregularly establish very intense relationships staying days at a time, drinking and swapping tales, and generally reinforcing the notion of what it is to be a winkel man. One should never confuse frequency with intensity. ) With the exception of Schill (who had fallen from a higher social and economic position and was temporarily "recuperating" in the winkel ) and Mr. Rijker, none of the men belong to bounded, corporate clubs with meeting calendars, rules and obligations. Above all, the drinking, r camaraderie and ballyhoo are fun. The men enjoy it. Given their circumstances, the mating system household and neighborhood social organization, and

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273 the societal division of labor, having fun is reason enough to go tapoe hoekoe (on the corner, i.e., the winkel ) .

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NOTES : CHAPTER IV 1. By "occupational hierarchy" I refer to the job market generated by the macro-structural institutions. See R. T. Smith, 1956. "Downtown" can mean the bureaucracy located in the city center, the bauxite mines, lumber camps, private businesses, etc. It is actually shorthand for "externally generated cash nexi" which fall outside of the neighborhood. 2. See Whitten and'Szwed (1970: 43-49) for a discussion of lower class adaptation and group formation. This should be compared with Manning (1973;.

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APPENDIX Methodology It is necessary to bring in some personal information. I have always been interested in male behavior, whether drinking, fighting, gambling, cavorting, fraternizing, householding, or working. I have tried to look at these behavioral sets in their totality rather than as discrete types of activities. However, I have always been limited by the fact that I could never, with a great deal of accuracy, get good comparative, genuine, open information from women. This circumstance varies from society to society. Although in Suriname a male anthropologist can approach a female Creole and get reasonably accurate information, there are limitations. I anticipated studying only male networks and aside from interviewing a few women, anticipated relying on the existing literature for the bulk of my data on females. Prior to departing for the field I married Rosemary Brana, a graduate student in history. Her special methodological interest is in oral history. Her interest and her sex meshed with the research design and, from our arrival in Suriname, we worked as a team. I spent nearly all my time with males in maleassociated activities; she did the same with women. We overcame, we feel, many of the biases and misinterpretations built into a situation where the sex of the researcher permits close association with one group and only a guarded, ambig2S0

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guous relationship with the other. After our separate day's work we would gather together our data and discuss what I heard and how I heard it with what she had. Each day we would try and explore similar topics. The different accounts were illuminating. One example should make this clear. One day there was a fight between a man and a woman in the neighborhood. Reportedly, she went after him with a machete threatening to cut off his head. At the time of the eruption I was sitting with my friends in the winkel drinking while Rosemary was in a neighboring back yard visiting friends When the fight broke out the men descended upon the street and ran up the block to witness the afternoon's "entertainment At the same time the women poured out unto the street. In the ensuing shuffle the women took away the weapons and hid them, pulled the female antagonist away and left the male standing with his fellows. They then spirited her away to the back yard while we retreated to the winkel . What happened at my end was a long tale of woe condemning women and decrying their mean characteristics. Commentary was offered by the attendant commiserators . Long accounts of prior indignities followed; related with great detail, they cited time, place, circumstance and personnel. The anthropologist was listening attentively. Rosemary, on the other hand, was in the thick of it with the women who held forth in the same tenor as the men. Stories flew especially about economic, familial and personal male irresponsibility.

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232 What resulted was a marvelous complementary picture o± what really happened and how the different sexes felt about it. Had only I been there, I would have heard the tale in great and gory detail from the men and gathered only a superficial version from the women. We combined, compared and contrasted data all during the research period. Most of my time was spent with a group of men who congregated more or less regularly in a street corner winkel in the research area. With some men there w r as warm mutual respect and admiration, with others there was casual indifference and with some there was open hostility and suspicion. Many times when I launched out to broaden my sample by establishing contacts with other groups of men, word always got back to "mV* winkel and I was told I would arouse suspicion if I spread myself too thinly and dealt in such a friendly and open manner with too many "strangers." I was locked into a sample from which no amount of methodological explanation could totally loosen me. Creoles of this "class" are covetous and possessive of their friends and acquaintances and when one expands into other networks it often strains relationships in the original group. I had then two options: I could go for breadth and a wider sample or opt for depth in my restricted group (which included all age and general occupational statuses in the neighborhood) . I chose the latter alternative but without totally excluding the former. I got to know these men very well and accompanied them on the most intimate and personal

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233 of travels.. The things I did with them and the information. I was privy to could not have been gathered from Â’Â’informants" or elicited with questionnaires. I participated in almost all the behavior these men did (except for certain things that my personal moral code did not permit; then I observed) and acted as I would anywhere else. I talked to these men "man to man" whether celebrating, commiserating, complaining, discussing or interviewing. Every "Nth" person is not a reliable informant, they must be sought out and a sound understanding of what each of you is about must be established prior to any question asking and probing. All data collected were correlated with information garnered in other segments of the neighborhood and Paramaribo, y^nkels , in households, at dances, at work places, and through interviews.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Abrahams, Roger D. 1970 Deep Down in the Jungle: Negro Narrative Folklore from the Streets of Philadelphia. Chicago: Aldine. Algemeen Bureau voor de Statistiek 1969 Jaarcijfers voor Suriname I 96 O-I 965 . Suriname in Cijfers, No. 55 • Paramaribo: Algemeen Bureau voor de Statistiek. 1973 Voorlopig Resultaat Vierde Algemeen Volkstelling. Suriname in Cijfers, No. 60. Paramaribo: Algemeen Bureau voor de Statistiek. Algemeen Rijksarchief : Reference section W. I. Sur. 364 (Res. Gouv. en Raden, 7 Juni, 1772). Included in this series of documents is a map of Frimangron drawn by F. Lieftinck in 1772 (Luepe, no ." ITTSTT Archives of the Suriname Museum. A bundle of bound maps, from which the map appearing on page 53 was taken, can be located in the reference room of the Suriname Museum. The map was drawn by A . H. Hiemcke and bears no date. Arensberg, Conrad M. and Solon T. Kimball 1965 Culture and Community. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc. Ashcraft, Norman 1966 The Domestic Group in "Mahogany," British Honduras. Social and Economic Studies, Vol. 15, No. 3 . Bender, D. R. 1967 A Refinement of the Concept of Household: families, co-residence, and domestic function. American Anthropologist 69 : 493-504. Blankenstei jn, M. van 1923 Suriname. Rotterdam: Nijgh en van Ditmar’s Uitgevers maatschappi j . Bovenkerk, Frank 1973 Terug naar Suriname? Uitgave 2, Afdeling Culturele Antropologie, Antropologisch-Sociologisch Centrum, Universiteit van Amsterdam. Holland Brana-Shute, Rosemary n.d. Unpublished manuscript. Bryce-Laport e, Simon 1970 Urban Relocation and Family Adaptation in Puerto Rico. A Case Study in Urban Ethnography. In Peasants in Cities Readings in the Anthropology of Urbanization. William Mangin, ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 2S4

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Buechler, Hans C. and Judith-Maria Buechler 1971 The Bolivian Aymara. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Buschkens, W. F. L. 1973 Het Familie System der Volkscreolen van Paramaribo. Doctoral Dissertation. Ri jksuniversiteit te Leiden, Nederland . Cent rale Bureau Luchtkart ering 1965 Map -of area within Frimangron. Blad 144 C and D. Scale + 1:1000. Paramaribo: Centrale Bureau Luchtkart ering. Chappie, Eliot and Carlton Coon 1942 Principles of Anthropology. New York: Henry Holt. Clarke, Edith 1957 Mother Who Fathered Me. London: Ruskin House Ltd. Cohen, David and Jack Greene, eds. 1972 Neither Slave nor Free: The Freedmen of African Descent in the Slave Societies of the New World. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Comvalius, Theod. A. C. 193 5^ Het Surinaamsch Negerlied: De Banja en de Doe. De West Indisch Gids, 213-220. Dahlberg, H. N. n.d. Kaart van Suriname. Scale 1:1,000,000. Paramaribo: C. Kersten and Co. N.V. Den Hollander, A. N. J., 0. D. van den Muijzenberg, J. D. Speckman, and W. F. Wertheim 1966 De Plurale Samenleving: Begrip Zonder Toekomst? Meppel: J. A. Boom en Zoon. Despres , Leo A . 1967 Cultural Pluralism and Nationalist Politics in British Guiana. Chicago: Rand McNally and Company. Domein Kantoor Archives, Paramaribo Documents should be sought under the ledgers entitled: 1S72 P, 1373 P, 1374 P, 1373 P, 1330 P, 1924 1-P, 1924 2-P, 1927 E, 1936 E, 1953 Wijk F-171-335. t Fontaine, Jos 1972 Zeelandia: De Geschiedenis van een Fort. Zutphen: De Walburg Press. Fortes, Meyer 1953 Introduction In Developmental Cycle in Domestic Groups. Jack GoocTy, ed. Cambridge Papers in Social Anthropology. London: Cambridge University Press. 285

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Foster, George 1961 The Dyadic Contact: of a Mexican Village. 1192. A Model for the Social Structure American Anthropologist 63 : 1173Fox, Robin „ . _ . 1967 Kinship and Marriage. Baltimore: Penguin Books. Freilich, Morris 1961 Serial Polygyny, Negro Peasants, and Model Analysis. American Anthropologist, 63 : 955-975* Gans, Herbert J. 1962 The Urban Villagers. Glencoe: The Free Press. Gonzalez, Nancie L. . 1970 Toward a Definition of Matrif ocality. In Afro-American Anthropology: Contemporary Perspectives. Norman E. Whitten Jr. and John F. Szwed, eds . New York: Free Press. Goslinga, Cornelis Ch. _ .-a1971 The Dutch in the Caribbean and on the Wild Coast I 50 U16S0. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Gouvernements Bladen van de Kolonie Suriname, l 8 l 6 — 1855* IS 56 Rotterdam: H. Nijgh. Greenfield, Sidney . „ 0 J „ , 1966 English Rustics in Black Skin: A Study of Modern Family Forms in Pre-Industrialized Society. New Haven: College and University Press. de Groot, Silvia W. . 1963 Van Isolatie naar Integratie: de Sunnaamse Marrons en hun Afstammeling. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde, 41. s ' Gravenhage: Martinus-Ni jhof f . 1970 Rebellie der Zwarte Jagers. De Nasleep van de Boni Ooorlogen 17$$-1$09* De Gids, 133 » No. 9* Hannertz, Ulf „ , _ 1969 Soulside: Inquiries into Ghetto Culture and Community. New York: Columbia University Press. Henriques, F. M. _ , 1953 Family and Colour in Jamaica. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode . Herskovits, Melville J. _ 1937 Life in a Haitian Valley. New York: Knopf. Herskovits, Melville J. and Francis S. Herskovits. 1936 Suriname Folklore. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, 27* New York: Columbia University Preso. 286

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Hoetink, Harry 1975 r Suriname and Curacao. In Neither Slave Nor Free: The Freedmen of African Descent in the Slave Societies of the New World. David Cohen and Jack Green, eds. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Homans, George 1950 The Human Group. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World. Hoogharts, D. A. 1973 Demografische Structuur van ons Volk. In 100 Jaar Suriname. H. J. Ahdin, ed. Paramaribo: Nationale Stichting Hindostaanse Immigratie. Jhinkoe-Rai-Akkal, Sit a 1972 Nederlands, Vreemde Taal. STICUSA Journal, 2e jaargang, no. 6, bid. 11. Johanns, L. C. and A. Verkuijl 1969 "Low Cost Housing" in de Binnenstad van Paramaribo. Delft: Technische Hogeschool. Kabinet van de Minister-President 1973a De Realisering van de Mogelijke 1969-1973 J Een Greep uit de Prestaties van de Regering-Sedney. Paramaribo: : Westfort. 1973h Twee Hoogtepunten uit het Sociale Beleid van de Regering-Sedney. Paramaribo: Kabinet van de MinisterPresident . 1973c De Landsdienaar 1969-1973 J Wat de Regering-Sedney voor U deed. Paramaribo: Kabinet van de MinisterPresident . Keiser, R. Lincoln 1969 The Vice Lords: Warriors of the Streets. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Keller, Suzanne I 96 S The Urban Neighborhood. New York: Random House. Kobben, A. J. K. 1973 Unity and Disunity: Cottica Djuka Society as a Kinship System. In Maroon Societies: Rebel Slave Communities in the New World. Richard Price, ed. Graden City: Anchor Press . Koeman, Ir. C. 1973 Links with the Past: History of the Cartography of Suriname. Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum. Lamur, H. E. 1973 The Demographic Evolution of Suriname 1920-1970: A Socio-Demographic Analysis. The Hague: Martinus-Ni jhoff . Liebow, Eliot 1967 Tally's Corner: A Study of Negro Street Corner Men. Boston: Little Brown -2S7

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Linton, Ralph 1936 The Study of Man. Appleton-Century-Crofts . Lowenthal, David and Lombros Comitas, eds . 1973 Consequences of Class and Color: West Indian Perspectives. Garden City: Anchor Books. Manning, Frank E. 1973 Black Clubs in Bermuda: The Ethnography of a Play World. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Matthews, Dom Basil 1953 Crisis of the West Indian Family. Caribbean Affairs Series. Port of Spain: University College of the West Indies . Mayer, Adrian i960 The Significance of Quasi-Groups in the Study of Complex Societies. A. S. A. Monograph 4. Michael Banton, ed. London: Travistock. Mitchell, J. Clyde 1969 Social Networks in Urban Situations. Manchester: University Press. Moore, Alexander 1973 Life Cycles in Atchalan: The Diverse Careers of Certain Guatemalans. New York: Teachers College. Mumford, Lewis. 1933 • The Culture of Cities. London. N. V. Eerste Surinamse Verzekeringsmaatschappi j "De Nationale. 1963 Vier Eeuwen Paramaribo: Onze Nationale Hoofdstad. Amsterdam: van Leeuwen. Naipaul, V. S. 1962 The Middle Passage. Middlesex: Penguin. Otterbein, Keith F. 1965 Caribbean Family Organization: A Comparative Analysis American Anthropologist 67: 66-79. Padilla, Elena 195$ Up from Puerto Rico. New York: Columbia University. Peattie, Lisa Redfield 1970 The View from the Barrio. University of Michigan: Ann Arbor Paperbacks. Pierce, B. E. 1970 Kinship and Residence Among the Urban Nengre of Suriname: A Re-Evaluation of Concepts and Theories of the Afro-American Family. Ph.D. Dissertation. Tulane University. 2SS

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• J Price, Richard 1969 Saramaka Social Structure. . Ph.D. Dissertation. Harvard University. 1972 The Guiana Maroons: Changing Perspectives in "Bush Negro" Studies. Caribbean Studies, Vol. 11, No. 4. 1973 Avenging Spirits and. the Structure of Saramaka Lineages. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land-, en Volkenkunde. Deel 129, le Af levering. Price, Richard, ed. 1973 Maroon Societies: Rebel Slave Communities in the Americas. Garden City: Anchor/Doubleday. Quintus Bosz, J. A. 1954 Drie Eeuwen Grondpolitiek in Suriname. Groningen: Assen, van Gorcum, and Comp. 1964 De Geschiedenis van het Fort Nieuwe Amsterdam in het Verdedigingst elsel van Suriname. Nieuwe West Indische Gids, 43* n.d. Geld, Credietbehoefte, en Negotiaties in Suriname voor 1865 . Paramaribo. Radcliff e-Brown, A. R. 1965 Structure and Functionin Primitive Society. New York: The Free Press . Radcliff e-Brown, A. R. and Daryll Forde, eds. 1950 African Systems of Kinship and Marriage. London: Oxford University Press. Rodman,' Hyman 1971 Lower Class Families: The Culture of Poverty in Negro Trinidad. New York: Oxford University Press . Sampson, Ph. A. 1947 Kies Verenigingen in Suriname. De West Indische Gids 45: .77-93Sedoc-Dahlberg, Betty 1971 Een Beschouwing over de Betekenis van het Nageslacht van enige eind— 19 e Eeuwse Creoolse Families voor Suriname. Koninklijk Nederlands Aardri jkskundig Genootschap Geografisch Tijdscrift V, Nr. 4: 525-528. Simey; T. S. 1946 Welfare and Planning in the West Indies. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Simpson, George Eaton 1970 Religious Cults of the Caribbean: Trinidad, Jamaica, and Haiti. Caribbean Monograph Series 7Rio Piedras: University of Puerto Rico, Institute of Caribbean Studies . 289

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Smith, M. G. 1962 West Indian Family Structure. Seattle: University of Washington Press. 1965 The Plural Society in the British West Indies. Berkeley and Los Angeles: • University of California Press . Smith, R. T. 1956 The Negro Family in British Guiana. London: Rout ledge and Kegan Paul Ltd. 1963 Culture and Social Structure in the Caribbean: Some Recent Work on Family and Kinship Studies. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 6: 24-26. Solien, Nancie L. 1959 The Non-unilineal Descent Group in the Caribbean and Central America. American Anthropologist 6l, 4: 57&-5S3. Solien Gonzalez, Nancie L. 1969 Black Carib Household Structure. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Stedman, Captain J. G. 1796 Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition Against the Revolted Negroes of Suriname. . . from the years 1772 to 1777 • London: J. Johnson and J. Edwards. Studiegroep "Paramaribo” 1969 . Stedebouwkundig Onderzoek van Paramaribo. Delft: Technische Hogeschool. Suttles, Gerald D. I 96 S The Social Order of the Slum: Ethnicity and Territory in the Inner City. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Teenstra, M. D. IS 42 De Negerslaven in de Kolonie Suriname en de Uitbreiding van het Christendom onder de Heidensche Bevolking. Dordrecht. Temminck Groll, Ir. C. L. and A. R. H. Tjin A Drie 1973 De Architektuur van Suriname. Zutphen: De Walburg Press . Turner, Victor W. 1969 The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Aldine. VACO n.d. Kaart van Paramaribo. Paramaribo: N. V. Kersten and Co . 290

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Valentine, Charles A. 1963 Culture and Poverty: Critique and Counter-Proposals. Chicago: University Press. van Gennep, Arnold I960 The Rites of Passage. Chicago: University of Chicago Press . van Lier, R . A . J . 1971 Frontier Society. A Social Analysis of the History of Suriname. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Vlier, M. L. E. 1331 Geschiedenis van Suriname. ' s-Gravenhage: van Doom en Zn. Volders, J. L. 1966 Bouwkunst in Suriname. Hilversum: G. Van Saane, Lectura Architectonica . de Waal Malefijt, Annemarie 1963 The Javanese of Suriname: Segment of a Plural Society. Assen: van Gordum and Comp. N.V. Whitten, Norman E. Jr. 1965 Class, Kinship, and Power in an Equadorian Town: The Negroes of San Lorenzo. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1969a Strategies of Adaptive Mobility in the ColombianEquadorian Littoral. American Anthropologist 71» No. 2: 223-242. 1969b Network Analysis and Processes of Adaptation Among Equadorian and Nova Scotian Negroes'. _In Marginal Natives: Anthropologists at Work. Morris Frielich, ed. New York: Harper and Row. Whitten, Norman E. Jr. and John F. Szwed, eds . 1970 Afro-American Anthropology: Contemporary Perspectives. New York: The Free Press. Williams, Eric 1970 From Columbus to Castro: The History of the Caribbean 1492-1969* New York: Harper and Row. Wilson, Peter 1973 Crab Antics: The Social Anthropology of English Speaking Negro Societies of the Caribbean. New Haven: Yale University Press. Wolbers, J. 1361 Geschiedenis van Suriname. Amsterdam: H. deHoogh. 291

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Wooding, C. J. 1972 Winti: Een Af ro-Amerikaanse Godsdienst in Suriname. Een Cultureel-Historische analyse van de Religieuze Verschi jnselen in de Para. Meppel: Krips Repro. B. V. Young, Michael and Peter Willmott 1957 Family and Kinship in East London. Middlesex, England: Penguin, Ltd. 292

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293 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Gary Brana-Shute was born in Ossining, New York, on June 19, 1945. He received his public education in that town and graduated from Ossining Senior High School in 1963 . He graduated Magna Cum Laude from the State University of New York, College at Oswego, in 1967 with a bachelorÂ’s degree in history and anthropology. His master's degree was taken at the University of Michigan in I 96 S; some courses followed at Columbia University in the City of New York. During the academic year 196B-69 he taught as an instructor of anthropology at the State University of New York, College at Oswego, and instructor of social sciences at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York. From 1969 to 1971 he followed a doctoral program consisting of course work and field schools at the University of Florida and departed for field work (in Suriname) in December of 1971* In December, 1971, he married Rosemary Brana, a graduate student in history at the University of Florida. He is currently an Interim Assistant Professor of Social Sciences at the University of Florida. All of Gary Brana-Shute ' s documehts and records prior to December, 1971, are to be located under the name Gary Shute. 1

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I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. G/ Alexander Moore', Jr. 'Chairman Associate Professor of Anthropology I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor, of Philosophy. flier on A. Nunez Associate Professor of Anthropology I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Gustavo Antoninni Associate Professor of Geography

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I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Cornells Ch. Go'sli'nga Professor of History I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Lyle N. McAlister" Professor of History This dissertation was submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Department of Anthropology in the College of Arts and Sciences and to the Graduate Council, and was accepted as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Dean, 'Graduate' School December, 1974