National Geographic : 1962 Jan
left its village far up on the Suia Missu River and established this temporary camp. When they came to Diauarum for the first time, the only steel implements they pos sessed were two old, dull stumps of axes, which they had received in barter from other Indian tribes. Now they own shiny axes, machetes, scissors, knives, aluminum pots. "Where shall we live?" we ask. "Who will build a house for us?" Men and boys at once vie with each other to remove trunks and underbrush from a slight elevation near by. Then they drag logs out of the forest, make a framework of timbers tied with bark fiber, and cover the roof with banana and palm leaves. Before evening our hammocks are swaying in the shelter of the house. From their former home the Suya have been able to bring only a couple of baskets of cassava flour, some bundles of dried ears of corn, and a few sweet potatoes. "The wild pigs ate up all our crops," they say. Here they have planted new crops on the other side of the river, but months must pass before the crops are ready. Meanwhile the 65 people live on what forest and water yield. Fishing With Poison Insures a Feast Nevertheless the Suya are the most gra cious and attentive hosts I have ever known. Every day we are served fresh wild fowl, golden hare, or some other delicacy. Women often bring a shellful of palm nut puree or wild bee honey. "Agatima gonyd!" says Pentoti one day. Water from a calabash trickles through the ashes and sieve to leach out salt.