TRANSCRIPCIÓN 🔗
Episode 4 Transcript:
[00:00]
[sound effect: waves and seagulls]
INTRO:
“The girl tries to cling to her mother. No one at home knows they were taken. No one is near enough to hear their shrieks and wails. The headman looks toward the shore as though he expects pursuit and then barks orders to his men, who bring out firearms and warm the rigging to adjust the sails. As soon as the tide turns, the ship eases downstream.
“No one comes to the shore.
“No one rescues them.
“How sharp the memory of that last day of freedom, of a normal life. How painful the last memory of home.” - from Six Women of Salem, by Marilynne K. Roach.
[00:51]
[music: tinkling piano]
ALL SEASON INTRO
Double double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
in the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Welcome to the inaugural season of Powerful Trouble - a podcast about witches. This season is all about the Salem Witch Trials.
Something wicked this way comes.
[01:52]
[music: “Why Fum’th in Sight” by Thomas Tallis for viol de gamba]
A DEARTH OF INFORMATION
Though Tituba is one of the central figures of the Salem Witch Trials, very little is known about her life before the trials. For a historian, researching or writing about Tituba is kind of a nightmare. There are no detailed records about her existence or the course of her life until her arrival in Salem, and she may have been resigned to a mention or two in a household inventory had the trials not come along.
The brutal, inhumane truth is that slaves were considered property, not people, and their lives were categorized as such. Their lives, deaths, marriages, and children were hardly worth noting if they didn’t add monetary value. A record of a slave auction in the 1600s would likely not list names, but rather details relevant to the person’s value as a laborer such as, “Negro man, approximately 20 years old, six feet tall.”
For this reason, everything I say in this episode has to be taken with a huge pinch of salt. Just assume that “ifs” are sprinkled around as liberally as Tom Haverford’s phone number at the Glitter Factory. There are multiple theories as to Tituba’s origins, and I’ve analyzed a few of the most prominent. I’ve picked the one that seems the most logical to me based on the information I’ve been able to find, but that doesn’t mean this podcast is the last word on Tituba by any stretch. This podcast should also not be taken as the authority on the Atlantic slave trade. For that, go to the incredible New York Times series, 1619.
[03:36]
[sound effect: birds in a forest]
THEORIES OF ORIGIN
I’ve mentioned Marion Starkey a few times, and now I’ll finally tell you who she was. Marion Starkey was a Massachusetts-based historian who wrote one of the major comprehensive accounts of the Salem Witch Trials in 1949, in an easy-to-read style. We’ll talk about her book, The Devil in Massachusetts, a lot more in a later episode, but it is her account upon which Arthur Miller based The Crucible. She posits, as the 19th century historians upon which her work is based did, that Tituba was probably half-Carib and half-African, implying that she was born in Barbados, and born into slavery.
The Carib are the group from whom we derive the word Caribbean, and they ruled and inhabited the Lesser Antilles, which are a group of islands in an arc shape from what is now the Dominican Republic to Trinidad and Tobago, and also the parts of South America just across the ocean from the Lesser Antilles. This area includes Aruba, Barbados, St. Lucia, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela.
When the English arrived in 1627, the Carib were by far the most powerful and influential group in the area. Barbados was actually not inhabited at the time, but the Carib were expert sailors and as such would have certainly noticed a new band of interlopers in the area. The Carib had been clashing heavily with the Dutch, and since the English and Dutch were highly competitive on the global stage, the English and Carib formed an alliance. The English crown eventually issued an order of protection prohibiting warfare or enslavement against the Carib, but a few Carib were enslaved in the early to mid 1600s.
It’s not totally clear where Marion Starkey got the information that Tituba was half-Black, except perhaps 2 and a half centuries of compounded assumptions and racism. There were almost certainly biracial and multiracial inhabitants of Barbados, but it was relatively rare. It’s not impossible, but it was rare at the time.
Peter Charles Hoffer theorizes that Tituba was from the West African Country of Ghana, or the child of Ghanian slaves in Barbados, because “uba” is a common suffix for West African slaves, and was attached to women in particular in Barbados. The magistrates in Salem did accuse Tituba of practicing “hoodoo.” Voodoo (or hoodoo as it was sometimes called then) is an amalgamation of various West African practices with some Roman Catholic iconography sprinkled in that originates with West African slaves, primarily in Haiti. While most of the slaves in the Caribbean and Lesser Antilles were definitely captured in Africa, there isn’t a lot of evidence to support this theory about Tituba, specifically. I’m leaving this theory in because it’s not completely impossible (like I said, we have no definitive way to know), but it’s the most unlikely in my opinion.
While Hoffer’s theory of naming is perfectly credible, the rest of the evidence that Tituba might’ve been of West African descent is weak at best and nonexistent at worst. Believing this theory wholesale requires believing the word of the gullible note takers who imposed suspicious xenophobia onto Tituba. It also depends on the rampant racism that didn’t bother to differentiate the cultural practices of West Africa
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from the cultural practices of South America and the Caribbean.
Additionally, Tituba is never, in any contemporary records, referred to as a “Negro,” and believe me, if she were suspected of being even partially African, it would’ve come up. (Quick side note: in history we use the word contemporary to mean “of that time period,” not “modern” or “current.”) Tituba is always, in every record we have of her, referred to as an “Indian,” sometimes in reference to her husband (who was called John Indian) and sometimes in descriptions of her person.
“Indian” likely refers to the indigenous in the Caribbean/West Indies, not necessarily continental natives. Continental natives were captured as slaves at the time, but there are lots of reasons why it’s not likely Tituba was a continental native. The local Wampanoag would’ve made terrible slaves thanks to the extreme hostility they felt towards the Puritans.
Most historians infer that Tituba was enslaved in Barbados before coming to Massachusetts, and it would’ve taken more time and energy to transport a Wampanoag from Massachusetts to Barbados and back up again than most traders would’ve risked at the time. It’s slightly more possible that Tituba could’ve been a native of the Carolinas or Florida, but the window of time for that possibility is very slim, and it’s not very probable in my opinion.
[08:27]
[music: descending violins]
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[10:26]
The theory I think is the most probable, as do many experts on the trials, is that of Elaine G. Breslaw, but even that is built on a big ol’ pile of “if.” Breslaw compiled some really compelling records that paint the most likely picture, but that’s not the same as the gospel truth. Still, Breslaw’s theory makes the most sense to me, and here’s why.
[music: “Les Indes galantes” by Jean-Philippe Rameau]
Breslaw posits that Tituba was likely an indigenous Arawak. The Arawak inhabited what we now know of as Venezuela, and didn’t have the same order of protection from the crown as the Carib, making the capture and enslavement of the Arawak more common. There are records of English sea captains sailing inland into Venezuela to trade with Carib and capture Arawak through the 1670s.
The Arawak, and Arawak women in particular, were prized as household slaves because they were believed to be hard workers, and were excellent cooks. However, very few slaves in Barbados and the other Antilles at the time were indigenous. Indigenous peoples were more susceptible to diseases like smallpox than African slaves were, and the frequent clashes between natives and Europeans diminished their numbers even further.
Indigenous men were not popular choices as slaves; they were more difficult to capture, and also they were less appealing than women and children (gross). The lack of men meant very few Indigenous peoples were born into slavery. Indigenous peoples were also adept at passive resistance; working so slowly and little as to devalue their own labor. Eventually the crown moved on from capturing natives as slaves entirely, finding African slaves to be more profitable overall (again, gross).
As an estate holder in Barbados, Samuel Parris would’ve certainly known about the Arawak women’s reputation as household slaves, and as we’ll get into later, there was very little use in Massachusetts for slaves that performed plantation labor. Tituba and her husband would’ve been the ideal workers for the Parris household after he sold his plantation.
Many records make note of Tituba’s “slurred speech” (ugh) and while Marion Starkey attributes her speech to her having a lazy personality (double ugh) it’s highly possible that her accent was a result of learning English when she was older. When directly questioned during the trials about where she had learned to keep house and dress in the English style, she mentioned her mistress in her former country, possibly a reference to the mistress of her former plantation in Barbados.
Tituba would have been one of the last Indigenous slaves captured, as the English phased out the practice of capturing indigenous women and children as slaves through the 1670s and were pretty much done in the 1680s. But perhaps the most conclusive evidence comes from Tituba and John’s names in and of themselves.
One of the central beliefs of the Arawak is that your name
should be highly protected. If you revealed your name to an untrustworthy person, it could strip you of your identity entirely. Therefore, the Arawak often accepted the names imposed on them by the English (such as John or Mary Indian) with little to no resistance, knowing that by peaceably accepting an anglicized name they were protecting their true identity, their true soul.
There was a band of Arawak known as the “Tetebatana” in central Venezuela. The Spanish mixed in the word with “titubear” - which means to stutter, which was further mixed with English nomenclature. Women from the Tetebatana band were referred to as “Tetebetado,” which was shortened and morphed with the common African suffix “uba” into “Tattuba” or “Tituba.” All of this multicultural smashing together meant that at the time, an English, Dutch, or Spanish settler in the Caribbean would’ve likely assumed that the name “Tituba” referred to an enslaved native Tetebatana woman. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.
It’s not totally clear how Tituba and John Indian were purchased by Samuel Parris. As a young bachelor, Parris did have a plantation in Barbados, though we know he did not own Tituba and John then. Tituba made reference to her former mistress during the trials, and Parris was not married at the time. It’s possible that Parris either purchased her in Barbados and brought her to Boston when he left his plantation, or he may have purchased one or both of them in Boston.
We know Tituba and John were probably legally married. As the minister, doing things by the book would’ve been crucial to Parris’s success, and even though they were slaves, living in sin wouldn’t be tolerated. But what would their life be like in Massachusetts?
[15:14]
[sound effect: a crackling fire]
THE LIFE OF A SLAVE IN MASSACHUSETTS
The life of a slave in a household in Massachusetts would’ve been a world apart from the life of a slave on a plantation in Barbados. This is not to soften the complicity of the people of Massachusetts in the horror of slavery. The conditions of capture were horrific no matter where your final destination was, and no matter how civil your treatment upon purchase, the act of reducing human life to a dollar amount, and of ripping apart families and friends is inhumane and unjustifiable regardless.
New England, and Massachusetts in particular, had very few slaves in the first place. It wasn’t a very common practice in England, especially for the middle class, so people were more likely to use indentured servants for cheap labor than slaves. Unlike Barbados, where brutal cold and low food supplies were typically not an issue, Massachusetts was a difficult place to survive. Agriculture was largely subsistence, so you didn’t need additional labor to turn more of a profit, and slaves were another mouth to feed, another drain on scarce resources.
There was only about 1 slave for every 90 free people in Massachusetts, and there was a known path to freedom as well. Massachusetts was also the first state to abolish slavery in 1780, before the U.S. Constitution was even fully ratified.
In Puritan Massachusetts, there were laws governing how one could treat their slaves, and socially, slaves, indentured servants, and hired servants were on about equal social footing. The law prohibited harsh and cruel punishments, though “discipline” was expected. There are examples in the history books of people paying fines or even going to prison for punishing their slaves in an unnecessarily brutal manner. All of those groups could sue their owners or employers for unfair treatment, though with a lack of lawyers and judges, in practice there wasn’t a lot they could do. Massachusetts slaves had a legal path to freedom, as well, though that doesn’t mean it was possible for everyone.
As a native woman, Tituba would’ve been most valuable working in the household. In Barbados she likely could’ve kept cooking the foods familiar to her, like bread made of cassava flour and pepper-pot. The ingredients for these things wouldn’t have been available in Massachusetts, but she probably still cooked and cleaned for the Parrises.
And the Arawak tradition, much like the English one, had its own supernatural ways of caring for the household.
[17:51]
[music: descending violins]
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[19:16]
[sound effect: birds in a forest]
ARAWAK MAGIC AND TITUBA’S TESTIMONY
While the English were lazy in recording indigenous Caribbean religious practices, they showed minute fascination with how the Arawak viewed the supernatural, to the point where it was incorporated into English ritual magic in Barbados.
The Arawak believed in the constant surrounding presence of spirits, and believed they had frequent, material impacts on the world around them. The Arawak were unique from other tribes in the region in that they would make zemis, or
personal effigies, that represented every person’s guardian spirits. Zemis were used to ward off maleficent spirits of the dead, but the real danger the Arawak feared were the kenaima.
[21:10]
[sound effect: low eerie drone]
Kenaima were real people - not spirits - though they possessed sinister abilities beyond normal. Kenaima preyed on anyone out alone, and they would often appear slightly different from other people with features like extra limbs or hair covering their body (demonizing disabilities, super cool). Kenaima could also change shapes, invading the bodies of animals or other beings to do their misdeeds. Kenaimas were above all outsiders, marked as “other” by their unusual features or inhabiting non-native animals and plants.
To fight Kenaima, every Arawak group had its own piaiman, or religious leader trained to detect and cast out Kenaima. In addition to learning rituals to access the spiritual plane and communicate directly with Kenaima there, the piaiman would learn the properties of local herbs and protective charms. Though this knowledge wasn’t exclusive to the piaiman, it was understood that they would be the village authority on the supernatural.
Tituba’s testimony that she had seen visions and dreams of the devil and the other witches would’ve been influenced by the Arawak’s strong belief in the power of dreams. Dreams were more than just visions or experiences - they were as real as any events while you were awake, and if you did something egregious in someone else’s dream, you could be held responsible.
Kenaimas were the closest to what the Western world would consider a witch, but the Arawak didn’t practice magic the same way it was practiced in Europe. Much of it focused on protection from evil, on maintaining peace and safety. When Tituba was initially accused of practicing magic, having made the witch cake, it’s possible she really didn’t think she was practicing magic at all, merely doing what she needed to do to protect herself. And through the course of the trials, that’s what she would do.
[22:05]
[music: “With Drooping Wings” by Henry Purcell]
CONCLUSION
Perhaps the most famous account of Tituba’s life is the historical fiction novel “I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem” by Maryse Conde, published in 1986. In interviews, Conde has stated that she purposefully did not interrogate Tituba’s true origins or appearance, but that rather she intended to use the allegory of Tituba to make a point. Conde’s point is the double standard often heaped on women, and in particular women of color. Tituba had enough power to control the minds and souls of dozens of children, and yet, once the trials began, her role in the narrative was reduced, cast off, her life deemed of little importance.
Like Joan of Arc or Pecos Bill, Tituba has achieved a degree of cultural mythology removed from who she actually was. As a student of history, I feel stuck in a serious quandary. As a symbol of perseverance through oppression, of the courage of black women, of resistance against oppressive, homogenous cultures, Tituba shines like a beacon. In some ways, it is relevant whether or not Tituba was black, whether or not Tituba was Arawak, whether or not Tituba was multiracial. But as a symbol, does it matter? I want Tituba to shine like a perfect beacon, a symbol of hope and strength, but part of me also feels that does a disservice to the real person that she was. You can’t look someone in the eye when you put them on a pedestal.
In reality, she was a person doing her best to survive in a world that forced assimilation on the one hand, but doomed her as a permanent outcast on the other. As Elaine Breslaw wrote of her, “In the process of confessing to fantastic experiences, she created a new idiom of resistance against abusive treatment and inadvertently led the way for other innocents accused of the terrible crime of witchcraft.”
Next week on Powerful Trouble, we’ll be discussing those innocents who weren’t so lucky. We’ll start with Rebecca Lawson, the woman Tituba claimed to see visions of, and move on to talk about the other accused witches, who they were, and what happened in their trials.
[24:54]
[music: tinkling piano]
OUTRO
Thank you for listening to Powerful Trouble - a podcast about witches. All research, recording, editing, and the theme music was done by me, Blair Carpenter. For a full list of sources in this episode, please visit powerfultroublepodcast.com/sources. If you want to show your support for the show, become a patron! You can find us at patreon.com/powerfultroublepodcast. And don’t forget to rate, review, and subscribe. Thanks for listening!