In the 1970s, excavations at the Newton Slave Burial Ground uncovered the grave of a man believed to be a healer or spiritual figure. He was buried with powerful objects: metal jewelry, an iron knife, and a short-stemmed clay pipe likely made in Ghana.
Among his burial items was a necklace made from a mix of beads, some with fascinating origins.
One glass bead, made with European powder glass, was probably crafted in Ghana.
Another, a cylindrical carnelian bead, came from Cambay, India ; a region known for carnelian bead production since the first millennium. These beads were traded through East Africa, across the Sahara, and into West Africa.
Other elements of the necklace could have been acquired in Barbados, but together they reflect a deep continuity of African cultural traditions in the Caribbean.
Scholar Jerome Handler used ethnographic sources from West Africa to interpret the necklace, and strongly argued that the man was likely seen as an obeah or healer by the enslaved community at Newton.
This burial is one of the most powerful archaeological cases for the survival of African spiritual identity through the horrors of the Middle Passage and slavery.
On Cemí and Taíno Spirituality: An Opening Orientation
I want to talk about spirituality, but to do so I recognize the need to talk about specific deities, and in order to do that we need to talk about and have an understanding of Cemínism/Zeminism (for continuity and understandability, I will be using the academic “Cemí” spelling with a “C”, but please keep in mind, Zemí is valid as well recognized academically and in the tribal nation, I just don’t want confusion).
There is no single term that fully captures this the Taíno spiritual system in its original context, and even the use of words like “religion” or “spirituality” can be limiting. What is being described is not a separate sphere of life, but an integrated way of understanding relationships—between people, land, ancestors, realms, and the forces that sustain existence.
Within the Cemínism framework, cemís are central.
Cemí are not easily defined in singular terms. They may be understood as ancestral presences, spiritual beings, forces of nature, or the material forms through which those presences are engaged. In short- objects imbued with a presences. Cemís may be represented through a carved object or natural form; they can also be encountered through place, memory, or practice- most notable examples are sacred places, some are sacred because they are imbued. These distinctions are fluid, and often depend on context (Pané, 1498/1999; Oliver, 2009). Because of this, cemís are not distant or abstract. They, the objects, exist within relationship— imbued with a presence that is carried through lineage, expressed through environment, and recognized through interaction rather than belief alone.
In the most basic of terms - a cemí is molded to one’s own perception of a deity or ancestral spirit, it is imbued by it and represents the relationship between a community/family/person and said deity or ancestral spirit. It is a physical vessel or embodiment of spiritual power.
The basic anatomy of what a cemí represents:
The Embodiment/Object: It is believed that the physical object actually contains the spirit or essence of a deity or ancestral spirit. NOT that it is the deity or spirit directly (no deity can be contained, nor should anyone seek to that’s viewed as malevolent and world harming behavior).
The Materials: They are crafted using a wide variety of materials, including wood, cotton, stone, shell, clay, and even bone, which were often carved or molded to reflect incarnations, visions or dreams to the deity and ancestral spirit. Sometimes clothing and accessories are crafted to adorn the cemí, as additions (see after sources for photos of some preserved documented cemís).
The Function: Acting as intermediaries, these objects are used to communicate with the spirit world, seek guidance, influence, and ensure the community's (or persons) prosperity, health, protection, etc. The concept is deeply relational, serving as a direct, tangible link between the physical world and the sacred unseen.
(Jiménez (2021), Doyle (2020))
To put this into context, the most common cemís that come to mind are of those of Yúcahu (there are other spellings, far too many to individually list on this post), Atabey, and Guan Ban Sech. For many these names invoke a Cemí to come to mind, but one of the most common ones in connection to Atabey is the Coquí. You can’t drive on the road anywhere in a major city with a Puerto Rican population without coming across a Taíno Coquí symbol, weather it’s on someone’s car, flag, or tattooed on their body. While there are different beliefs around the Coquí- some view it as the symbology for luck, being safe guarded, others as an extension of Atabey’s Fertility incarnation, the nurturing care of a mother. There are some that just view it a symbol of pride and origin. Regardless of the individuals view- they are have the core reasoning of a relationship with nature, safety, and Puerto Rico as an island, and it has been a cultural Cemí carried through lineage and recognized through interaction rather than belief alone for loner than any academic can pin point. See how cemís can be more than merely an object?
With all this say, let me disclaim - It is also important to acknowledge that not all aspects of this knowledge are meant for public or generalized discussion. Some teachings, ceremonial practices, and interpretations are held within specific communities, families, or initiated spaces. What is shared here reflects information that is more widely documented or openly discussed, and should be understood as partial, relative, and foundationally basic rather than comprehensive.
Much of what is commonly known about Taíno spiritual life comes from two sources, early colonial records and cultural knowledge passed through family and communities across the Caribbean. Archeological and anthropological accounts, while valuable, were written through external perspectives and are often incomplete. As a result, contemporary understanding is shaped not only by these texts, but also by oral tradition, community knowledge, and ongoing cultural practice (Curet, 2014; Keegan & Carlson, 2008).
This is where variation becomes important.
Taíno-descendant communities exist across different regions of the Caribbean and its diaspora, and their approaches to cemís can reflect those environments. In some areas, there may be a stronger emphasis on agricultural relationships and land-based practices (ie. like personal gardens, keeping of ancestral trees, dances, etc), in others, a more pronounced connection to coastal or riverine environments (ie. Meditative swimming, Water/River Cultures, etc), and some even blend with other spiritual beliefs (ie. Afro-indigenous communities have a similar practice, cemís crossing into Orisha spaces happened naturally), one’s environment shapes how certain presences are understood and expressed- and under the practice of cemínism it is all valid.
Even within the same region, differences can emerge between families or communities. These variations may influence how cemí are named, how they are approached, or how relationships with them are maintained. Rather than indicating inconsistency, these differences reflect continuity—adaptation over time in response to place, history, and lived experience (Oliver, 2009).
As a cultural example, if you’ve ever read the memoir “My Broken Language”, by Quiara Alegria Hudes; she describes her mother’s spiritual garden dotted with stone lines, carved sculptures, 4 directional sections, and specific plants planted per section. An outsider reads it, takes in the environment described, it might be new to them and they continue. Someone with an even basic understand of Caribbean indigenous beliefs or living cultural experience in the Caribbean though, they read it and can recognize the stone dividing lines as cibas, the sculptures likely cemís of Taíno and Orisha presences, the divided section being the wheel, and even the specific plants reflecting the Taíno cardinal directions. When you have the lived experience of culture, you can fill the blanks, understand without a full course explanation which means authors like Ms. Hudes can share semi closed practices in this form, and it works. Those outside get a glimpse, those with context get validation and recognize the meaning.
In general there is no single, fixed system that can fully represent Taíno spirituality as it exists today, but cemínism is such a central part that it has undeniably been carried through lineage, expressed through history, and recognized thoroughly culturally, regardless of personally held beliefs.
For those beginning to learn, it may be helpful to approach this not as a system to be mastered, but as a set of relationships to be understood gradually. Definitions may shift with time, exposure, and while building community with others. Meanings may deepen over time. What is learned in one space may be expanded or reframed in another. It is all a process.
Selected References (for further reading)
Pané, R. (1498/1999). An Account of the Antiquities of the Indians. (J. J. Arrom, Ed. & Trans.). Duke University Press.
Oliver, J. R. (2009). Caciques and Cemí Idols: The Web Spun by Taíno Rulers Between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. University of Alabama Press.
Dr. Jiménez, Maya (2021). Taíno zemís and duhos, Smarthistory, The Center for Public Art History.
Doyle, James A. (2020). Arte Del Mar: Art of the Early Caribbean. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Curet, L. A. (2014). Caribbean Paleodemography: Population, Culture History, and Sociopolitical Processes in Ancient Puerto Rico. University of Alabama Press.
Keegan, W. F., & Carlson, L. A. (2008). Talking Taíno: Caribbean Natural History from a Native Perspective. University of Alabama Press.
This essay contains citations to academic research for your understanding.
Photos of Documented Cemís
Taíno artist, Zemí (cacique side), c. 1510–1515 (Museo Nazionale Prehistorico ed Etnografico “Luigi Pigorini,” Rome, Italy; photo: Lorenzo Demasi)
Taíno, Deity Figure (Zemí), 13th–15th century, sandstone, Dominican Republic (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)
Taíno artist, Spatula, c. 10th–15th century, manatee bone, from the Greater Antilles, Caribbean (Cleveland Museum of Art)
Taíno artist, Zemí (mask side), c. 1510–1515 (Museo Nazionale Prehistorico ed Etnografico “Luigi Pigorini,” Rome, Italy; photo: Lorenzo Demasi) [This is my favorite, it has a whole out fit and movable mask]
Taíno artist, Three-Cornered Stone (Trigonolito), 13th–15th century C.E., limestone, from the Dominican Republic (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)
Taíno artist, Cotton cemí; Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography Turin (A Taíno Idol's Origin Story)
“The development of Patwa expresses the refusal to imitate a colonizer, their insistence on creation, their movement from obedience towards revolution. Not to nurture such a language is to retard the imagination and power of the people who created it. For Patwa to be treated with the respect it deserves, a conscious decision would have to be taken to treat it as a language, probably by a state body.
Such a decision would mean that Patwa would then be able to evolve without being limited by arguments demanding its perpetual reduction to its relationship to English. It would be constructed day-by-day and would develop in a literary dimension as well as an oral one.”
— excerpt introduction from an anthology of short stories by Jamaican Women titled Lionheart Gal
Unidentified Taíno artist, Kuisa [Purification implements], c. 1200–1500, bone, approximately 22 cm high (El Museo del Barrio, New York). Speakers: Dr. Lee Sessions, Permanent Collections Associate Curator, El Museo del Barrio and Dr. Tamara Calcaño, University of Puerto Rico. Warning: this video contains a discussion of vomiting in a ritual context but may be upsetting to some viewers. Transcript is under cut.
Transcript:
[music]
0:00:05.0 Dr. Tamara Díaz Calcaño: We’re here at the Museo del Barrio in New York looking at an emetic spatula from the Taíno culture.
0:00:11.8 Dr. Lee Sessions: These were made by the Taíno people, the Indigenous people of the Caribbean, [who] have been inhabiting the region since at least 1200 and descended from people who are in the region much before that. There are many people who identify as Taíno in the Caribbean who practice many of the old rituals and ceremonies, and keep the practices alive.
0:00:31.5 Dr. Díaz Calcaño: While Taíno culture was deeply affected by the arrival of the Spanish in the region, the cultural practices and the visual culture of the Taínos has continued to be present in Puerto Rico and in the Greater Caribbean.
0:00:45.7 Dr. Sessions: Even in renaming these implements kuisa, we are trying to use Taíno words to prioritize Taíno language in how we’re naming these materials that are from around 1200.
0:00:58.5 Dr. Díaz Calcaño: The emetic spatula we are looking at was part of the cohoba ritual, where the bohique or the behique, the spiritual leader in the Taíno culture, and the cacique, the political leader, would partake in inhaling the cohoba seeds which were powdered to be able to obtain the psychedelic qualities of these seeds. So in part of the ritual, they could communicate with ancestors, deities, and also interpret omens that were important for the Taíno culture and the particular history or situation of a set community.
0:01:31.1 Dr. Sessions: These would have been used to purge the stomach before the ceremony, so you would use the kuisa to purge, and then the behique grind up the cohoba seeds in a mortar and pestle, and then the user would inhale through a small straw. It’s a way to connect with the ancestors, to connect with the spiritual realm, with the many layers of reality behind the reality that we see. Often the behique would use it to obtain information about how to heal someone who was ailing in the tribe, or the cacique would use it to obtain guidance from the ancestors about a political issue.
0:02:09.0 Dr. Díaz Calcaño: They purged themselves related to the notion of purifying the body, so they could better access the psychedelic qualities of the cohoba seeds with an empty stomach. The emetic spatulas used in these rituals, like the one we have here at the museum, were usually made of a softer material, usually bone, it was a common to also use manatee ribs as the material with which these spatulas were carved. And they could also be quite decorated. They could be carved with intricate designs. And the one we are looking at has a humanoid face with great eyes that were carved and that probably had some sort of insert in a different material. You have a large nose and a wide grinning mouth, we can see all the teeth. The arms are pulled up to the chest, and right under the hands, we can see what seems to be almost like a swollen belly. And then the rest of the spatula is that more abstracted lower body.
0:03:01.5 Dr. Sessions: Because these kuisa are used in this spiritually significant ceremony where you’re accessing the world beyond, where you’re accessing your ancestors, they would often be carved with spiritually significant imagery, they would almost become kind of a guide to the underworld themselves. So this figure might have represented a cacique, someone who was participating in the ritual, it might represent some kind of other guide figure who would take the user through the other world.
0:03:30.4 Dr. Díaz Calcaño: It was very common in the design of the material culture of the cohoba ritual to add references to either important ancestors, deities. The cacique, and the behique himself are often also figures very present in the objects related to the ritual of the cohoba. So indeed, the figure carved on this kuisa could very well be a references to a cacique or a behique.
0:03:56.6 Dr. Sessions: When you look at the object from the side, you can see it has a gentle curve, which probably would have come from the material that it was made from, from some kind of rib bone. But also the curve would have helped the object function. It would have made it easier to use to purge yourself before the ceremony.
0:04:16.0 Dr. Díaz Calcaño: We look at the purging spatula from the side. And from behind, we see that it has perforations which may relate to it being worn during this ceremony almost as a pendant or as a necklace. Which also I think highlights the physicality of the object itself, how it could not only have been a practical object in the ritual, but it may have also functioned as an important adornment in the ritual itself.
Cyril Lionel Robert James (1901-1989), commonly known as C.L.R. James, was a Trinidadian Marxist, historian, and writer. He was an influential figure in the Caribbean and African American left, as well as a key member of the Trotskyist movement. James is best known for his book "The Black Jacobins," a history of the Haitian Revolution, which is widely regarded as a seminal work in the field of African and Caribbean studies. He also wrote extensively on Marxist theory, cricket, and literature. James was a highly influential and important figure in the anti-colonial and Pan-African movements of the mid-twentieth century.
How did CLR James extend Marxist theory to encompass the struggles of enslaved and colonized people?
CLR James extended Marxist theory to encompass the struggles of enslaved and colonized people by emphasizing the importance of understanding the specific histories and cultures of these groups. He argued that the experiences of these groups could not be reduced to a simple economic analysis of class struggle, but needed to be understood in their own right as unique struggles against domination and oppression.
For example, in his book "The Black Jacobins," James applied Marxist theory to the Haitian Revolution and argued that the struggle of the enslaved people in Haiti was a unique historical event that could not be reduced to a simple analysis of class struggle. He argued that the specific cultural and social conditions of slavery in Haiti, as well as the unique cultural and historical background of the enslaved people, were important factors in shaping the nature of their struggle for freedom.
In this way, James emphasized the need for Marxists to take seriously the struggles of colonized and enslaved people as distinct and unique struggles against oppression, rather than simply as part of a broader class struggle against capitalism.
Submerged Bodies: The Tidealectics Representability and the Sea in Caribbean Art by Elizabeth DeLoughery and Tatiana Flores / Circa No Future by Nadia Huggins/ “Fuck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob Part Two: Jules” Euphoria / script by Hunter Schafer and Sam Levinson / Moonlight (2019) / screenplay by Barry Jenkins / “The Ocean Inside Him” by Rick Noguchi
