The versatile wayapamsî: potencies of water and sky in a Wai Wai plaitwork

ABSTRACT

This ethnoarchaeological investigation examines the versatility of the wayapamsî, a form of plaitwork made by the Wai Wai peoples. Through ethnographic immersions, analyses of ethnographic collections, and a review of the literature, the study draws on the anthropology of Technology to discuss the difficulties of translating wayapamsî. Information is presented on the origin of this plaitwork and its importance for marriage from the perspective of Wai Wai peoples. To understand wayapamsî in terms of meanings that are constructed and recognized through the material experiences of its production and handling, the study explores the details of its production stages, technical and formal variability, artisans’ skills and opportunities for individual expression, and artifact multifunctionality. Finally, the study reflects on the weave of relationships established between these plaitworks and various beings and activities throughout their existence, grounded in the potencies of water and sky that are woven into their bodies.

KEYWORDS
Basketry; Anthropology of Technology; Wai Wai Peoples; Ethnoarchaeology

RESUMO

Por meio de imersões etnográficas, análises de coleções etnográficas e revisão bibliográfica, este estudo etnoarqueológico, com inspiração na Antropologia da Tecnologia, trata da versatilidade do wayapamsî, um trançado feito pelos povos Wai Wai, refletindo sobre as dificuldades de sua tradução. São apresentadas informações sobre a origem e a importância desse trançado para o casamento, conforme a perspectiva dos povos em questão. Para compreender o wayapamsî em termos de significados construídos e reconhecidos a partir de experiências materiais de sua produção e manipulação, o estudo explora os detalhes das etapas produtivas desse trançado, a variabilidade técnica e formal, as habilidades produtivas e possibilidades de expressão individual dos artesãos e a multifuncionalidade artefatual. Por fim, são tecidas reflexões sobre as tramas de relações que esses trançados estabelecem com diferentes seres e atividades ao longo de sua existência, a partir das potências da água e do céu que foram tecidas em seus corpos.

PALAVRAS-CHAVE
Trançados; Antropologia da Tecnologia; Povos Wai Wai; Etnoarqueologia

Introduction

Wayapamsî¹ is a term in the Wai Wai language that designates a specific type of plaitwork. It was translated as “fire fan” by Yde (1965: 256), summarizing the idea that it is an artifact used for dealing with fire. Walter Roth (1924; 1929), in his studies of wayapamsî artifacts among the Wai Wai and other peoples of what was then British Guiana, referred to them simply as “fans.” According to Berta Ribeiro’s Dicionário do Artesanato Indígena (Dictionary of Indigenous Handicrafts) (1988: 42), plaited fans are made in various forms and have a resistant proximal portion for gripping, serving to “stir up the fire and fan oneself.” These designations bring us closer to what may be the principal reason for the existence of the wayapamsî. However, they fail to capture the wide versatility of uses of this type of plaitwork. It should also be emphasized that fanning oneself with the wayapamsî is unthinkable for the Wai Wai.

In general, Indigenous artifacts translated in the literature as “fans” (or by the Portuguese terms “abano” and “abanador”) serve numerous functions. This versatility is not exclusive to artifacts produced by the Wai Wai. In the 19th century, Karl von den Steinen ([1894] 1940) interpreted some fans made by Upper Xingu peoples as small mats for sitting. In a study of Tiriyó material productions, Frikel (1973: 135) made the following observation: “One is easily (sic) inclined to regard fans as being used exclusively to stir up the fire. But this is by no means their only purpose.” Frikel reported the use of these plaitworks for serving solid foods and holding small items, noting that old and dirty fans were used exclusively to stir up the fire, whereas new ones took on other functions. He also distinguished between “fire fans” and “trayfans.”

In studying the Wayana, Lucia van Velthem (1998) observed that fans had multiple functions. New ones were used to serve cassava bread (beiju), whereas old ones served as seats for women and children, as well as supports for the manufacture of ceramic pots. Some fans were made exclusively for women, which, in addition to being used to stir the fire, served to “place cassava dough onto the griddle, enliven the fire, and turn the cassava bread” (Velthem 1998: 202). Moreover, specific fans were used by men to fan young initiates in Wayana ritual contexts.

Caromano (2020) reported evidence of food remains on museum-held fans, such as possible residues of flour or tapioca, and identified clear marks indicating that these artifacts had been exposed to fire. Based on a study of various fans made by peoples of the South American Lowlands, Rybka (2020) observed that the term “fire fan,” commonly applied to these artifacts in museum ethnographic collections, limits the understanding of their multifunctionality. By questioning whether their users see these artifacts as merely tools for fanning fire, and drawing on accounts provided by a Lokono informant, Rybka demonstrated that, in addition to fanning, the Lokono warhiwarhi are used to pick up tapioca, place it on the griddle, turn the cassava bread, and handle the food while it is still hot. Accordingly, it was suggested that these plaitworks be referred to as “manioc fans” or “fire and manioc fans.”

Together, these findings and terminological proposals broaden the understanding of these artifacts, highlighting their involvement in a range of activities closely associated with the processing of bitter cassava. Such multifunctionality is also characteristic of the wayapamsî of the Wai Wai peoples. In a study of 29 classes and 67 subclasses of Wai Wai plaitworks, encompassing artifacts collected over more than a century (Rodrigues, 2022a), no other class was identified as being as versatile as the wayapamsî. Found primarily in kitchens and the so-called “flour houses,” taken on both long journeys and short trips, the wayapamsî is easily observed in use in the daily lives of the Wai Wai peoples across a wide range of everyday tasks. These considerations point to the challenge of adequately expressing its versatility in a limited number of words.

When aspects of the chaîne opératoire and the variable bodily particularities of this plaitwork are considered, it becomes evident that the wayapamsî connects, through its wefts, parts of different inhabitants from diverse places of the cosmos, thereby capturing different potencies. In light of this understanding, this study examines the versatility of the wayapamsî, exploring the social meanings and ontological perspectives of these plaited artifacts among the Wai Wai peoples. For this, it synthesizes information from previous ethnoarchaeological studies (Rodrigues, 2020; 2021; 2022a) and presents unpublished data and novel insights derived from ethnographic immersions and analyses of historical ethnographic collections. Drawing on the anthropology of Technology, the article investigates the relationships between humans and everyday artifacts (Lemonnier, 2012), recognizing that the meanings of the wayapamsî are constructed and acknowledged through the material experiences of their production and handling.

Reflections are presented on the term wayapamsî, followed by information on the origin of this type of plaitwork and its importance in the context of marriage. Its stages of production, technical and formal variability, and artisans’ skills and opportunities for individual expression are then described. The article also discusses the versatility of these artifacts and the relationships they establish, through the potencies woven into their bodies, with different beings and activities throughout their existence.

Notes on the term wayapamsî

In Portuguese, the word “abano” (fan) is a back-formation from the verb “abanar” (to fan). In the Wai Wai language, however, the logic is different: the action of fanning is expressed as powpow kacho, where “powpow” is an onomatopoeia for the flapping of bird wings, as I have been told by an elder, and “kacho” means “thing” (Hawkins, 2002: 26). Thus, powpow kacho can be freely translated as a “thing for flapping” or for making wind. Furthermore, in certain past situations, some Indigenous people referred to these plaitworks as aypocho or aypotopo, terms that allude to the swaying of tree leaves caused by the wind. In other words, when referring solely to the capacity to produce wind, the Wai Wai language contains specific words that are clearly distinct from wayapamsî. Therefore, the term wayapamsî does not evoke a single use for the plaitwork, although fanning the fire corresponds to the primary function it possesses throughout its various stages of use.

The Wai Wai language possesses two words closely related to wayapamsî, both of which refer to objects. After asking the elder Poriciwi Wai Wai about the origin of the word wayapamsî, I was told that it may come from wayapu, meaning “paddle,” as, for him, the motion of paddling is very similar to the gesture of fanning. The other similar word is wayapa, which refers both to an old platform built in the trees and covered with palm leaves as a hiding place for hunting birds such as macaws and toucans, and to a small shelter, also made of palm leaves, formerly used for the seclusion of girls during their menarche. During this period, girls had to remain hidden to avoid being abducted by the “Anaconda People,” a lesson taught by the creator Mawary through his wife (Fock, 1963). After leaving this shelter, girls become women ready for marriage. Wayapa thus represents artifacts made from plant materials that serve as hiding places.

The word wayapamsî still requires an in-depth linguistic study. Nevertheless, these examples allow us to consider its similarity to the words wayapu and wayapa, which, in turn, indicate connections with water and with birds, inhabitants of the sky, as well as a potential link to the transitional moment when girls reach the status of women.

The Wai Wai peoples and the origin of wayapamsî

Contemporary Wai Wai peoples are direct descendants of groups that have long inhabited the border region between Brazil and Guyana, with the first historical accounts dating back to the mid-18th century. They are predominantly Karib-speaking peoples. However, within the current and broad Wai Wai identity, there are also descendants of the Mawayana, an Arawak-speaking people, and of the Taruma, a people with an isolated language. The choice to refer to them collectively as the Wai Wai peoples takes into account, as noted by various studies (e.g., Caixeta de Queiroz, 2008; Howard, 2001; Jácome, 2017; Rodrigues, 2022a; J. Wai Wai, 2022), that these individuals identify as Wai Wai, Katwena, Xerew, Hixkaryana, Tunayana, Mawayana, and Txikyana, among other yana, a term meaning “people” or “folk.” Thus, the identity of contemporary Wai Wai individuals is much more situational than fixed, and it should by no means be assumed that these peoples are homogeneous or self-contained.

According to historical narratives (yehtoponho or pahxantho yehtopo²), in order to find a wife, the creator Mawary received advice from the Giant Otter to go fishing at a specific spot on the river, where women were available. When he cast his three-pronged arrow, called parata, Mawary caught a wayapamsî (fan), a tuuwa (colander), a kwahsî (tipiti or cassava squeezer), and a manari (sieve), among other artifacts that a man must know how to make in order to provide for his wife. After this, Mawary finally managed to fish his wife, who dwelled in the depths of the river. She was a woman belonging to the Okoimoyana, the “Anaconda People.”

This narrative underscores the importance of a man knowing how to make a wayapamsî, one of the fundamental artifacts for a married woman to care for her family. The story also helps explain why girls were secluded in a wayapa shelter. By marrying a wife from the Anaconda People and thereby giving rise to the contemporary Wai Wai peoples, Mawary incurred a “woman’s debt” with this water-dwelling people, as recounted in various narratives translated by Fock (1963). Mawary’s debt was then passed on to his descendants.

In 2020, the elder couple Poriciwi and Wahciki Wai Wai reported that what humans perceive as different artifacts in the depths of the waters (the home of the Okoimoyana) are actually other types of beings (Rodrigues, 2022a). This knowledge was passed on to the Wai Wai by a woman who had been taken by the Okoimoyana and later returned to her village. For example, within the river, she was warned that what she saw as a cassava squeezer (kwahsî) was an anaconda (okoimo), what she saw as a load-carrying basket (awci) was, in that world, a black caiman (watwaimo), and so on. In the case of the wayapamsî, she also had to be careful, because, in the world of the Anaconda People, it was a piranha (pooñe). As argued by Rodrigues (2021), through these narratives and the technical operations of manufacture, these plaited artifacts emerge as modified bodies made from parts of different beings. Moreover, their production is multitemporal: with each act of manufacture, the artisan seemingly relives Mawary’s fishing of a new being.

How can one get married without knowing how to make a wayapamsî?

During my first ethnographic immersion in the Mapuera village in 2011, when I approached the male production of plaited artifacts, I learned to cut the vernations of murumuru (Astrocaryum farinosum Barb. Rodr.), removing the small thorns and thinning the material. After that, I was asked by an important artisan, Amña Wai Wai, whether I had plans to marry. I replied that I did, and then I was asked if I knew how to make a wayapamsî. When I said no, I was asked: If you do not know how to make a wayapamsî, how will you have fire in your house? How will your wife take care of your family?

These questions reveal that it is essential for a man to know how to make a wayapamsî and highlight the significance of this plaitwork for marriage and family maintenance. They also emphasize the necessity of having this plaitwork to handle fire, from the perspective of those who produce it. This brief dialogue corroborates the very origin of the wayapamsî according to Wai Wai thought. After all, without this plaitwork, not even the creator Mawary would have found a wife.

Later, during my ethnographic immersions conducted between 2018 and 2020, I was informed by several other skilled artisans, known as kahñe, including those who master only a few artifacts, that a man must make all the plaited items necessary for his wives to be able to feed their family. Another renowned artisan, named Parancikna, explained that his father advised him to first weave the plaited artifacts that his future wife would need in married life before investing time in learning and perfecting the production of more complex plaitworks.

There are different degrees of difficulty in artifact production. Interestingly, these degrees were described by the Wai Wai of Mapuera as equivalent to primary, secondary, and higher education, although there is no rigid or fixed sequence for learning (Rodrigues, 2022a). Knowing how to manufacture a wayapamsî is equivalent to having a primary education, as indicated by the dialogue that occurred during my first ethnographic immersion. This plaitwork is one of the first objects that a young person, from around 12 years of age, needs to learn to plait. Other basic plaitworks include the load-carrying basket (awci) and baskets made in the forest from a single palm leaf, called kapatu. Some learned to plait starting with the awci or the kapatu. Artisans recognized as kahñe reported to me that the first plaitwork they learned was the wayapamsî, particularly the technically easier variation known as kwicikwici³ yewanî (toucan’s chest), described in detail below. It was precisely this variation that I plaited under the supervision of Amña Wai Wai in 2011.

Considering that a good strategy to understand the meanings of technologies is adopting the perception of what actors experience in their lives when producing and using various “mundane objects” (Lemonnier, 2012), it can be suggested that, from a male perspective, the wayapamsî symbolizes aptitude for marriage. It is a central artifact for tending the fire, and technical mastery of its manufacture strengthens and reinforces the social bond between husband and wife. Given that the production of the wayapamsî is fraught with dangers, as is the case with plaited artifacts in general (Rodrigues, 2021; 2022a), it is understandable that emphasis is placed on its importance in handling fire, which is itself a hazardous element.

From the female perspective, that is, the perspective of those who handle the wayapamsî in daily life, its uses are far more diverse. Such a versatility expands its potential meanings—many of which I was unable to fully grasp as a man. Following the suggestions of C. Sautchuck and J. Sautchuck (2014), I engaged in the manufacture of various baskets to learn the production techniques and gain access to the tacit knowledge and values embedded in these processes. However, I did not have the opportunity to do the same with the female use of these plaitworks, which I therefore understood primarily through observation and the explanations provided by my host women. In any case, these insights indicate that the wefts of a wayapamsî conceal multiple meanings and ontological perspectives that are best understood through the study of the materiality of production techniques and routine uses, as further discussed below.

The manufacture of the wayapamsî

Although specimens of wayapamsî have been present in ethnographic collections associated with the Wai Wai since the 1920s (Rodrigues; Gaspar, 2020), their chaîne opératoire⁴ has never been documented. The following description is based on a study of ethnographic collections, a literature review, and my own ethnographic immersions.

Roth⁵ (1924: 291–295) described the production stages of shovel-shaped fans made by the Arawak. He noted that the plaited patterns of these fans, called “the snout of the sawfish” and “wishbone,” are also produced by the Wapixana and Macuxi. According to a comparative study conducted by Rodrigues (2022a), this type of fan is virtually the same as that made by the Wai Wai, as well as by the Katxuyana, Tiriyó, and Zo’é. The same “shovel-shaped” fan was referred to as a “pentagonal fan” by Frikel (1973).

Even after visiting the Wai Wai in 1925 and assembling a large ethnographic collection, now housed at the Museum of World Culture (Världskulturmuseet) in Gothenburg, Sweden, Roth (1929) did not provide any specific information about the wayapamsî in his additional work on the arts and customs of the Wai Wai and Taruma. Curiously, in addition to having collected a complete wayapamsî, Roth acquired five other unfinished specimens, which in fact represent four of the six main basic stages in the manufacture of these fans. These specimens, held at the aforementioned institution under numbers 1927.07.0104a–e, can be organized and understood based on the concept of chaîne opératoire. However, this limited attention to the specimens suggests that the analysis of the production sequence of the Wai Wai wayapamsî did not provide any new information compared with the production of the Arawak fan published by Roth (1924). Had this been the case, additional details would likely have been published, perhaps even complementary drawings, as Roth did for other types of Wai Wai artifacts in his later work (Roth, 1929). Thus, the description of Arawak fan production presented by Roth (1924) serves as a model for examining the manufacturing stages of the wayapamsî, in conjunction with the museum-preserved Wai Wai plaited specimens corresponding to different production stages and my own ethnographic observations.

It is worth noting that, among the ethnographic collections studied in 14 different institutions (Rodrigues, 2022a), no collection was found to include specimens illustrating the stages of wayapamsî production. The only collection containing such specimens is precisely the one assembled by Roth, which, moreover, holds the oldest specimens of these Wai Wai fans consulted by me.

The primary step in weaving a wayapamsî is to understand the appropriate materials. The plants used for their vernations belong to the genus Astrocaryum spp., including murumuru (pîîrî) and tucumã (mentho). These are prickly plants, capable of piercing the skin, much like ants do. Given the complex cosmopolitical relationship between humans and plants (cf. Rodrigues, 2021, 2022a), the Wai Wai do not cut any vernation, only those from young and strong palms, preserving older ones and those that are too young. After selection, each vernation is removed from the rib⁶ of the palm leaf with special care, as plants are believed to be people with different bodies. A knife is used to remove the small spines located along the edges opposite the central vein of each vernation. The cut is made longitudinally from the tip toward the base of the vernation, producing a segment measuring approximately ⅓ of the original width (Figure 1). After cutting, it is crucial that the vernations remain closed in order to preserve the central vein of the leaflet, which functions as the “bone” responsible for providing firmness to the future wayapamsî. After all, a body without bones cannot support itself. Typically, the vernations are prepared in the villages, although some carry out this initial stage in the forest.

Figure 1
Diagram illustrating the cutting of vernations,with a bundle of cut vernations shown on the right.

On a flat surface, either a wooden board or the ground itself, the prepared vernation segments are arranged diagonally, forming an “X,” with the bases of the vernations positioned close to the artisan’s body and the tips oriented toward the opposite end (Figure 2). This configuration is fundamental because, at the end of the entire process, the basal portion of the vernations will become the handle of the wayapamsî, which must be firm. At the beginning of the manufacturing process, the bases of the vernations are held in place by the artisan’s feet, which press them against the board or the ground. The number of symmetrical segments placed on each of the two sides ranges from 10 to 16 or more, depending on the desired size of the wayapamsî. As the segments are arranged, they are crossed using a twill plaiting technique⁷, following specific formulas that vary according to different graphic patterns, as discussed below. At the end of this first stage, a diamond-shaped foundation is formed (cf. Roth, 1924: 293), resembling a lozenge-like figure. According to the terminology proposed by Berta Ribeiro (1985), this operation corresponds to an undifferentiated beginning, that is, a type of starting technique that is not visible in the final product.

Figure 2
First stage in the production of a wayapamsî

The second stage of production is essentially a continuation of the first, with the symmetrical addition of prepared vernation segments (between 16 and 26 in total), forming a larger lozenge-shaped structure (Figure 3).

Figure 3
Second stage in the production of a wayapamsî.

After the second stage is completed, the lozenge-shaped structure is tied crosswise to keep it fixed and prevent the plaiting from coming undone. This structure is then placed in the sun for 1 to 2 days to dry (Figure 4). This step is necessary to transform plants into plaited objects (Rodrigues, 2021). Drying confers strength and prevents the deformation of the future wayapamsî.

Figure 4
Third stage in the production of a wayapamsî. Sun-drying and change in the material’s appearance.

Before the beginning of the fourth stage, the plaited elements are tightened so that they become compact, as vernations decrease in volume after drying, creating gaps between the interlacings. Next, work begins on the making and shaping of the distal portion of the wayapamsî. This process employs the twill plaiting technique under the 3/3 formula, developing from the two lower lateral sides of the diamond-shaped foundation. Schematically, this development can be described as the formation of two triangles adjoining the distal sides of the diamond. In the end, the plaited set, which includes the two initial stages and the shaping of the distal portion of the wayapamsî, forms a large triangle (Figure 5).

Figure 5
Fourth stage in the production of a wayapamsî.

The fifth stage corresponds to the shaping of the lateral edges and the proximal portion of the wayapamsî. This form of plaiting is distinctive for producing curved lines in the proximal area (Figure 6), despite being executed using the twill plaiting technique. Because this technique generally produces graphic patterns with right and acute angles, this peculiarity is only possible through the use of the thin and highly flexible vernation tips. At the end of this stage, the excess tips are trimmed with a knife.

Figure 6
Fifth stage in the production of a wayapamsî.

Finally, the sixth stage corresponds to the selvage, which can be executed in two different ways. The first consists of a separate selvage, looped and bound with thread or cord, developed as a simple spiral. This type of selvage is called paaku matkîrî (pacu tail). The second modality, known as pooñe pîtho (piranha head), is a self-finished twilled selvage, whose ends are tied with curauá fiber thread coated with pitch (Figure 7).

Figure 7
Variations in the selvage of the wayapamsî.

The pieces in the Roth collection, held at the Världskulturmuseet under numbers 1927.07.0104d and 1927.07.0104e, correspond to the “piranha head” type of selvage (Figure 8). Artisans generally know how to make both styles of selvage; however, I was informed that the “piranha head” style is preferably made when cotton thread is in short supply, as it requires less thread.

Figure 8
Specimens from the Walter Roth collection illustrating the sixth stage of manufacture, with a “piranha head” selvage

The wayapamsî only truly comes into being once it has been completed. Considering that the wayapamsî originates from the fishing of the creator Mawary, it is noteworthy that both selvage styles correspond to aquatic beings, such as the pacu and the piranha. Moreover, this connection between technical origin and the finishing that takes the form of parts of aquatic beings fished in a distant past by Mawary points to the antiquity of the wayapamsî and its persistence among the Wai Wai peoples. By comparing the information provided by Roth (1924) and the specimens he collected in 1925 with what is observed in contemporary production, it becomes evident that the chaîne opératoire of wayapamsî manufacture has remained unchanged for at least a century.

From a bodily perspective, a wayapamsî has a head (yîhtipîrî), a mouth (yîmtarî), and a body (yupun) (Figure 9). On average, based on the 29 specimens studied in museum collections, these plaited objects measure 32 cm in length from the head to the base of the body and 31 cm in width across the distal extremity from tip to tip. Whereas the largest museum specimen recorded measures 42 × 31 cm, in the villages I observed specimens measuring up to 48 × 47 cm.

Figure 9
Body parts of wayapamsî.

When observing the fourth and fifth stages of manufacture (Figures 5 and 6, respectively), one has the impression that the wayapamsî grows organically, as if it were acquiring “wings,” woven from the distal to the proximal portion. As discussed by Rodrigues (2021) based on Ingold and Hallam (2014), transforming plant bodies into plaited bodies is an organic form of know-how that results in a making-grow of the plaiting in a modular manner, akin to the modular growth characteristic of plants. Whereas the head of a wayapamsî is formed as a “pacu tail” or a “piranha head,” the center of its body exhibits variations of twilled plaiting that correspond to body parts of other beings. This entire assemblage, whose plaiting incorporates parts of multiple bodies for the construction of a specific body, contributes to the wayapamsî’s multifunctionality.

Technical and formal variability of the wayapamsî

In addition to the variations in selvage that form the head of the wayapamsî, the first two stages of production create diamond-shaped forms in the central part of the body, which may vary according to the formulas governing the execution of twilled plaiting, as noted above. These variations explain the diversity of patterns found at the center of these artifacts. According to J. Yde (1965), there are four main variations recorded. The specimens he acquired are held at the National Museum of Denmark (Nationalmuseet) and were examined in person by me.

The variation whose reference specimen is the artifact H. 4211 from the Yde (1965) collection was recorded by the author as kwicikwici yewanî (toucan chest) (Figure 10A). This is the most common type found in the villages and is considered the easiest variation. This pattern continues to be referred to by the same name today. Only the chief of the Tamiuru village, who identifies as Katwena, stated that this pattern is also called kwacinama yaporî (vulture wing). Eight specimens of this variation have been identified in museum collections.

Figure 10
Specimens H.4211 and H.4210 from the Jens Yde collection, held at the National Museum of Denmark (Nationalmuseet).

The variation whose reference specimen is H. 4210 was recorded by Yde (1965) under the name maratî yewanî (jacu chest) (Figure 10B). This plaiting variation is quite commonly found in the villages, and I observed nine specimens in ethnographic collections. According to Yde (1965, p. 256), the Xerew call this pattern popúrirátnî, which was translated for me in the village as “owl leg.” This pattern is also currently referred to as poroto yewanî (spider monkey chest), regardless of the identity of the yana of the person naming it. Additionally, a person who identifies as Wai Wai told me that this pattern is also called kewantîrî, “human chest” in free translation, which another interlocutor explained is essentially the same as “spider monkey chest.” A Katwena artisan further reported that this pattern may also be called kwahsî pîtho (old cassava squeezer head).

H. 4212, the reference specimen recorded by Yde (1965) as kewantîrî, translated as “human chest” (Figure 11A), represents a style I rarely observed in contemporary villages, though I recorded 10 specimens in museum collections. I was surprised that only one person named this pattern in a way roughly similar to Yde’s record. An interlocutor who identifies as Wai Wai reported that this pattern is called caaca yewanî (old woman’s chest), because when an elderly woman becomes thin, her ribs become visible. Another interlocutor, Poriciwi Wai Wai, stated that this pattern is also called maraki yewanî, the chest of a bird whose Portuguese or English name I do not know, described to me as a relatively large bird with a forked tail. A different Wai Wai artisan had an identical specimen at home and called it pooñe yewanî (piranha chest), explaining that the horizontal lines extending from the central vertical line of the plaiting correspond to the piranha’s ribs. Finally, the elder Tikti Txikyana had difficulty recognizing the pattern but suggested it might be the “old cassava squeezer head” or the “spider monkey chest.”

Figure 11
Specimens H. 4212 and H. 4213 from the Jens Yde collection, held at the National Museum of Denmark (Nationalmuseet).

The last variation, whose reference specimen is H. 4213, was recorded by Yde (1965) as yawárirátnî (opossum hind leg) (Figure 11B). However, none of my interlocutors recognized this term, informing me that to achieve the translation proposed by the Danish author, the correct form would be yawari pehyarî. This is a variation for which I did not see any specimens in the villages. Besides the piece collected by Yde in the 1950s from villages in southern Guyana, I observed only one similar specimen in the collection made by C. Evans and B. Meggers, currently held at the National Museum of the American Indian. This specimen was also collected in southern Guyana in the 1950s. None of my interlocutors recognized its design, and three artisans considered that it had been made incorrectly, suggesting that it might have been produced by someone who did not know the technique very well.

Given that none of my interlocutors recognized this pattern and that, to date, I have identified only two specimens of this style (both of which were acquired in the same period and region), it would not be unreasonable to suggest that they may have been produced by the same individual. I have documented cases of specific variations linked both to attempts at individual differentiation and to a lack of plaiting skill, which supports the idea that this variation may, for example, result from either inexperience or a desire to assert personal distinctiveness. Before addressing this question further, however, it is necessary to discuss a relevant morphological variation.

Although he made no mention of it in his work, Yde collected another specimen, held under number H. 4719 at the Nationalmuseet. Unlike the other pieces, which were apparently made to order, being new and without any signs of use, this specimen is heavily oiled, appears somewhat darkened, and shows considerable wear on part of the distal end and one of the sides, where the plaiting is coming undone. These are characteristics of old and well-used specimens, leading me to interpret that it was extensively used before being transformed into an ethnographic object⁸ for a museum collection. Woven in the “jacu chest”/”spider monkey chest” pattern, this specimen also differs from the others collected by Yde in being rounded rather than pentagonal in shape (Figure 12A).

Figure 12
Specimens made with the rounded morphological variation, called “stingray.”

When I showed the photo in the villages, some people said that this shape is called xpari (stingray). A Wai Wai interlocutor mentioned that those who usually make it this way are the Xerew people. I observed a specimen (Figure 12B) acquired by a family during the exchanges that take place at the beginning of December, preceding Christmas and New Year celebrations, when the men of the village produce various plaited objects and give them to the women in the village’s “big house” (umana), regardless of whether they are relatives. Because it is rounded, this plaiting was associated with the Xerew. However, these interpretations are controversial. I found a rounded wayapamsî in the house of a Xerew artisan who told me that this form belongs to the Wapixana, and in museum collections, the only specimen directly associated with the Xerew that I analyzed has a pentagonal shape. This pentagonal specimen was also collected among the Xerew by Yde in the 1950s.

Skills and individualities that deviate from the norm

Although it is a relatively simple artifact to produce, there are men who do not know how to make the wayapamsî. Today, due to the different wage-earning occupations people hold in the villages, such as health agents, teachers, and others, it is common for men to commission these plaited objects from those who know how to make them. In some cases, fans made by other men are found in a couple’s home, as gifts or reciprocations given by a wife’s relatives, such as her father, brother, or grandfather, or even by relatives of the husband. In the homes of women whose husbands or close relatives know how to make these artifacts, it is common to find several specimens, some new, some old, and others beginning to show signs of wear and use.

Considering only the cases in which men know how to make the wayapamsî, there are those who know only the basics, those who can make the simplest variation, and those who work meticulously, possessing knowledge of how to produce various technical variations. There are even some men who enjoy innovating. In the field, I encountered two situations that drew my attention for deviating from the recurring wayapamsî patterns. The first involved an artisan who adapted patterns used in other types of baskets. The second involved a wayapamsî woven in a manner entirely unlike anything I had seen.

The first case can be understood as the intentional creation of a personal variation. While I was staying in the home of the chief of the Yawara village, the chief’s brother-in-law saw images of plaited objects held in the museum and recognized, from these photographs, that one of Yde’s (1965) main informants had been his late foster father. He then shared that he produced uncommon types of wayapamsî. He claimed to be the only one who made them, and showed me two specimens that were in the process of being made in his house. Both patterns consisted of adaptations of techniques typically executed in cassava squeezers.

The specimens exhibited variations corresponding to twilled plaiting patterns in the akri yoorî (agouti tooth) and swaruwaru (small native black bee, in free translation) styles (Figure 13). According to the artisan’s explanation, and based on the techniques employed, the production sequence for these variations is the same. The difference lies in the fact that in the first two stages of manufacture, the central diamonds are produced with the aforementioned twilled plaiting variations. In all the villages I visited, I did not encounter any wayapamsî made with these variations, nor did I identify them in museum collections.

Figure 13
Twilled plaiting variations, called “agouti tooth” and “small native black bee,” respectively.

The second case was observed by me in a kitchen, where I came across a wayapamsî of an unusual, more square shape. It was made using the twilled plaiting technique by the 3/3 formula, but without resulting in any of the recurring patterns. Furthermore, the specimen had a finish somewhat similar to the “piranha head” style but with a curved handle (Figure 14A). The young man who made the artifact explained, somewhat embarrassed, that he did not know how to make it properly, which is why he had woven it that way. However, he noted that his wife used it for various activities. It is unnecessary to discuss the personal details of this artisan, but he had no opportunities to learn when he was younger, and the couple has limited access to individuals who know how to make these objects. This specimen materializes the inexperience of an artisan and can be directly compared with a specimen made by me, as I am also unexperienced (Figure 14B). This case demonstrates that with persistence and minimal knowledge, it is possible to produce a wayapamsî, even when deviating from the usual patterns.

Figure 14
Wayapamsî made by inexperienced individuals

Whether due to innovation or lack of experience, there are numerous possibilities for introducing stylistic variations to wayapamsî. If these specimens were part of ethnographic collections, they might be considered irregular, or even set apart as specific types in more detailed analyses. However, from a diachronic perspective, these patterns would not be recurrent.

Beyond fire: the multiple functions and relationships of the wayapamsî throughout its existence

In one episode of his saga, the creator Mawary fled from young members of the “Jaguar people.” After crossing a river and reaching the opposite bank, Mawary plaited several wayapamsî and threw them into the river, along with chipped stone teeth used in wooden grates (xkmari). These elements turned into piranhas that attacked the young jaguars, thus saving the creator.

This brief passage indicates that plaiting a wayapamsî is not a difficult task, corroborating what has been presented. Furthermore, it highlights the wayapamsî’s connection to transformations related to food, as it gave rise to the piranhas, which serve as food for humans. The passage also shows that the wayapamsî’s role in food transformation necessarily occurs in conjunction with other artifacts, such as the xkmari grate. Finally, since Mawary’s time, it is evident that, when necessary, the wayapamsî is useful for performing other activities beyond tending the fire.

From what has been documented in previous studies, from my own daily observations in the villages, and especially from what I have learned from women who use the wayapamsî on a daily basis, this artifact performs at least 11 functions throughout its existence. Many of these functions are related to food production, particularly the transformation of various types of bitter cassava ingredients into food, such as different types of cassava bread and cassava flour. I have recorded some of these actions as expressed in the Wai Wai language and present them below with free translations.

The main function of the wayapamsî is to fan the fire, as denoted by the expression powpow kacho, “thing for flapping.” It can also be used to collect the product of freshly sifted tapioca, verbally expressed as yukwarî yaponî wayapamsî, “the wayapamsî is the seat of tapioca.” Moreover, it serves various functions in flour production and in the preparation of different types of cassava bread. When one is collecting sifted dough to place in the pan, as if using a spatula, the action is expressed as amehko wayapansîke, “gathering with the wayapamsî.” During cassava bread preparation, the plaitwork can also be used to turn the bread. Regarding this use, I was told that cure yaknamacho⁹ wayapansî, “the wayapamsî is suitable for turning cassava bread.”

When baking a large cassava bread, it is necessary to use a specific plaitwork called cuure yerematantopo weeci, which can be translated as “weeci suitable for placing in the center of the cassava bread” (Rodrigues, 2022a). In the absence of this artifact, a large wayapamsî can be used instead, with this action being verbally expressed as cuure yerematantopo wayapamsî, “wayapamsî suitable for placing in the center of the cassava bread.” This example demonstrates that this plaitwork is so versatile that it can replace other types of specialized artifacts.

It can also replace a tool called peipeyu, a wooden spatula or knife used to shape the circumference of cassava bread at the beginning of its preparation on the griddle. Additionally, the wayapamsî can be used as a tray or plate for serving food; as a utensil for removing traces of flour and other small solids from griddles, cooking surfaces, or tables; and as a lid for pots and other containers.

There are two more possibilities of use for the wayapamsî. One of these uses is shown in images provided by Evans and Meggers (1955) and on the frontispiece of Rye’s (1981) book, which features a photograph provided by Evans. The two images complement each other, as they depict two distinct moments of the same operation (Figure 15). The action is carried out by a potter who was identified by my interlocutors as the late Ymaru. In the photograph, a very old and worn wayapamsî is reused as a support for making a ceramic pot, preventing contact between clay and the ground. In other words, in addition to being used in food production, the wayapamsî can also assist in the production of other artifacts, consistent with the observations of Velthem (1998) among the Wayana.

Figure 15
Old wayapamsî reused in pottery production by the potter Ymaru.

Another possible use occurred in the past. Shamans could bring a wayapamsî into their shelter, called xurupana, to summon the wind, carrying away rain-laden clouds. This was possible because the plaitwork generates wind, much like the flapping of a bird’s wings. This information, conveyed to me by a man whose late brother was a shaman, reminded me of a narrative described by Fock (1963: 82–85) about the journey of an old man to the sky, in which Thunder used a large fan¹⁰ to produce gusts of wind so strong that they could knock down houses and lift people.

It is evident, therefore, that the wayapamsî is extremely versatile, especially in its use by women. In the villages, it can be seen in various tasks throughout the day, functioning alongside other plaitworks, such as sieves and trays. Many of its uses also vary according to its life stage. When new, it is used for serving and handling food and is treated with care, always kept hanging. As it ages, it is reassigned to other functions. When semi-new, it will not always be hung and is rarely used to serve or handle food; it may, for example, serve as a lid for a pot. When old, worn out, and dirty, it can be left on the ground near the fire and flour pans, being used primarily to stoke the fire (Figure 16). I observed a singular case in which a very old specimen was used to feed a puppy. Thus, as noted among the Tiriyó (Frikel, 1973), when old, these artifacts are mostly used to stoke the fire, whereas, when new, they perform multiple functions. These plaitworks inhabit kitchens and “flour houses.” They also often accompany women on their travels. While assisting with the master’s research of Jaime Wai Wai (2022) and Roque Wai Wai (2022) in a region far from the Mapuera village, I saw their relatives carrying some specimens. In another village along the Mapuera River, I observed a Tiriyó woman from the Kwamalasamutu village in southern Suriname with her personal specimen, called xipari in the Tiriyó language, which she brought with her for the occasion of visiting her husband’s relatives. Additionally, small wayapamsî are commonly gifted to girls as a way of teaching them one facet of what it means to be a woman in their society (see Rodrigues, 2020: 101, Fig. 2C).

Figure 16
Photographs illustrating the life phases of a wayapamsî.

The collected specimens indicate the importance of this plaitwork in a woman’s life. These observations shed light on the similarity between the terms wayapamsî and wayapa, the name given to the seclusion shelter for girls undergoing the process of becoming women. After all, once they become women, they begin to interact with the wayapamsî more closely and intensely.

In sum, the wayapamsî emerges through technical operations. When new, it serves to fan the fire and can also be used as a plate or a utensil for food preparation, inhabiting kitchens or being carefully stored inside the house. With frequent use, it becomes somewhat greasy, acquiring a coppery hue from the fat and soot that permeate its wefts. At this stage, it generally does not come into direct contact with food but helps cover pots and containers. It may hang or rest on shelves, typically residing in kitchens. When older and more worn, it is often found on the ground, its weavings beginning to unravel as it gradually loses its functions. In such cases, it may be left near the places where it was once produced. Thus, after a full life, the perishable weavings of the wayapamsî slowly disintegrate and, in a cyclical process, return to the earth.

Notably, even though it is multifunctional, the wayapamsî cannot be used for an action that might seem obvious to us, no matter how hot a person feels: fanning oneself. To understand this, it is necessary to reflect on the potencies embedded in its weavings.

Wayapamsî and the potencies of its weavings

The precaution of not fanning oneself with the wayapamsî is directly related to the graphic patterns contained in the bodies of these artifacts. Of all the plaitworks created by the Wai Wai people, only the wayapamsî features graphic patterns with curved lines (Rodrigues, 2022a), which confer it specific abilities. The lines formed in the plaitwork are called yesamarî (its path), alongside various patterns with specific names, as mentioned above. Because it features curved paths that go back and forth, the wayapamsî can cause a person to become lost in the forest if they attempt to fan themselves with it. In other words, the weavings contained in the bodies of these plaitworks have the potential to harm those who handle them if they are not used properly, as part of the cosmopolitics between humans and other-than-humans (Rodrigues, 2021). Furthermore, this type of plaitwork, like others depicted by Rodrigues (2022a), is believed to exact revenge when used inappropriately. For example, children who sit on a wayapamsî risk developing protruding ears, just as people who insult this plaitwork risk that their children be born with protruding ears.

Regarding the handling precautions for this type of plaitwork, Roth recorded something similar among the Arawak of Guyana: “There is an Arawak belief that if a woman used a [fan] on herself, she would gradually lose flesh and waste away” (Roth, 1924: 291). Although the author does not provide further details, this information can be interpreted as a type of effect that these plaitworks exert on people who do not handle them properly.

The paths present in the body of the wayapamsî and their associated dangers indicate, invariably, that its weavings possess potencies that are not immediately apparent. When the woven patterns are considered more specifically, beyond the paths and their ability to make humans get lost in the forest, additional potencies become evident.

The variations in selvages and graphic patterns found in the bodies of wayapamsî are related to different beings. Variations in the head of this artifact are linked to aquatic beings, such as the pacu and piranha, and the only rounded variation is associated with the stingray, another aquatic being. Regarding variations in graphic patterns derived from the twill plaiting technique, all show a relationship with parts of bird bodies, except the pattern that is currently unrecognized by any informant. In this regard, it is interesting that the variation exemplified by specimen H. 4211, the simplest to make, is related to birds only, whether toucans or vultures. The two other variations, in addition to parts of bird bodies, can be interpreted as parts of monkeys, fish, humans, and even another type of plaitwork, the cassava squeezer (tipiti), which is indispensable for processing bitter cassava.

In addition to birds being present in all known variations, their diversity is striking. Among the reported names, there are references to the toucan, jacu, vulture, owl, and maraki, a bird whose Portuguese or English names are unknown to me. Moreover, it is noteworthy that the graphic motifs are predominantly associated with “someone’s chest,” as expressed in the word yewanî, and that they are located precisely where the chest would be on the body of the wayapamsî. Thus, the chest weavings of this plaitwork are composed primarily of the chests of different beings.

Even without absolute consensus regarding the names of the plaited patterns, the records show two mentions of legs, one mention of a head, and one mention of a wing, whereas there are five mentions of chests. Of these, one corresponds to the piranha, two are related to monkeys or humans, and three refer to birds. There is clearly a predominance of bird chests, a body part essential for the flapping of wings, which, in the Wai Wai language, as we have seen, is represented by the onomatopoeia powpow kacho, the same term used for the action of fanning.

Considering the operational sequence of manufacturing/growing a wayapamsî, it can be observed that the first two stages are responsible for constructing the chest. In the fourth and fifth stages, it is as if the wayapamsî is acquiring wings. By integrating the chest of birds with the development of something resembling “wings,” it becomes easier to understand one of the reasons why the wayapamsî is capable of flapping. Furthermore, its connection with the potencies of the sky for producing winds emerges in the narrative presented by Fock (1965), in which this plaitwork is manipulated by Thunder.

It can be observed that a wayapamsî bears traces of when it was an underwater being, attesting to its antiquity. In order to flap, the center of its body is composed predominantly of parts of bird bodies. In this sense, the wayapamsî contains within itself elements from multiple layers of the cosmos, acting in concert with humans on Earth, as it integrates the potencies of sky and water. This understanding helps us elucidate its main functions: producing wind and engaging with fire. It is interesting to note that, from a material perspective, both in its manufacture and in its use, the proximal, aquatic part (indicative of the antiquity of this woven being) is what mediates contact between humans and the body of the wayapamsî, whose central weavings contain celestial potencies. As for the presence of body parts from beings other than birds, this is something that requires further investigation; nevertheless, it may be interpreted as another indication that helps explain the particularities of its multifunctionality.

Concluding remarks

Marked by a water origin, the wayapamsî plays an important social role in human existence, as it constitutes one of the material links in the relationship between husband and wife. For a man, knowing how to make a wayapamsî is a sine qua non condition for being eligible for marriage. When young, boys learn how to weave it, and girls learn how to use it. The constant practical relationships that women establish with the wayapamsî may point to a similarity between the word wayapamsî, which designates an artifact made from palm leaf vernations, and the former female seclusion shelter known as wayapa, also made from palm leaves. However, this assumption requires further in-depth linguistic study, given that the word wayapa also refers to another type of shelter, likewise made from palm leaves, in which men used to hide to hunt birds. In this sense, both shelters are capable of concealing bodies. The wayapamsî, in turn, conceals parts of other-than-human bodies within its weavings.

In light of the available sources, it is known that the production of this plaitwork has remained remarkably stable from a diachronic perspective, especially amid the various material changes experienced by the Wai Wai, particularly following their encounter with evangelization. These changes include, for example, the individualization of houses by family unit and the incorporation of goods from the surrounding society, such as clothing, firearms, aluminum pots, power generators, outboard motors and boats, refrigerators, stoves, televisions, public telephones, and cell phones, among others¹¹. Rodrigues (2022a), in an analysis spanning a little over 100 years of Wai Wai plaitwork, observed that, in contrast to the productive persistence of the wayapamsî, other types of plaited artifacts underwent changes in their modes of production, and some were even abandoned. This persistence can be interpreted as an indication of the importance of the wayapamsî to the very existence of the Wai Wai and to the continuation of their social reproduction.

The versatility of the wayapamsî is remarkable, as is its capacity to prompt broad discussion and reflection on a range of issues. Among the enormous variability of basketry produced by the Wai Wai (Roth, 1929; Yde, 1965; Rodrigues, 2022a), the wayapamsî may not be among the most visually striking, as it does not feature bichrome graphic designs and only rarely bears feathers¹², which commonly function as ornaments on other types of baskets, such as the manari sieve. Nevertheless, within the scope of Wai Wai material productions, it is unlikely that there is an artifact as versatile as the wayapamsî, which is involved in at least 11 tasks related to the processing and presentation of food, particularly products derived from bitter cassava. Beyond its versatility, it also enters into relationships with various other artifacts in food production and may at times travel with humans, whether to camps or more distant villages.

In view of the findings, and from a pragmatic perspective focused on functional aspects, the definition of these plaited objects as “fans for fire and cassava” (cf. Rybka, 2020) makes sense. Even so, when one considers the corporeality of these plaitworks and the potencies derived from parts of the bodies of other beings, especially aerial and aquatic ones, it becomes evident how complex it is to attempt to summarize a wayapamsî in just a few words.

By understanding the details of its body, its chaîne opératoire, and its uses, one can glimpse the broad mesh of meanings of this plaited artifact, which is extremely common in villages. The current investigation thus offers a small example of the richness of information and reflection that the study of basketry, approached from a perspective focused on technical relations and materiality, can provide for addressing questions concerning the multiple facets of what we call material culture.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to all the Wai Wai people who patiently taught me about the wayapamsî. I am especially thankful to the owacarin Jaime Xamen Wai Wai, as well as to his parents, Poriciwi Wai Wai (in memoriam) and Wahciki Wai Wai, and to Amña Wai Wai, who guided me in the making of my first wayapamsî. Finally, as this article is the result of my doctoral and postdoctoral research, I extend my thanks to the Brazilian National Council for Scientific and Technological Development (CNPq) (grant no. 144871/2017-3), the São Paulo State Research Foundation (FAPESP) (grant no. 2017/13343-4), and the Volkswagen Foundation (VolkswagenStiftung), within the framework of the project “Heritage and Territoriality: Past, present and future perceptions among the Tacana, Tsimane’, Mosetén, and Waiwai.”

• Funding:
  This research was supported by CNPq (grant no. 144871/2017-3), by FAPESP through the doctoral project “Tramas da tecnologia: etnoarqueologia e variabilidade dos trançados Waiwai” (Grant no. 2017/13343-4), and by VolkswagenStiftung through a postdoctoral fellowship carried out at the University of Bonn, within the framework of the project “Heritage and Territoriality: Past, present, and future perceptions among the Tacana, Tsimane’, Mosetén and Waiwai.” (https://www.iak.unibonn.de/de/institut/abteilungen/altamerikanistik/forschung-publikation/amazonas-anden/heritage-and-territoriality).
• 1
  In the Wai Wai language, the letter “p” is pronounced similarly to “f” in Portuguese, and the vowel “î” is a close central unrounded vowel, with a sound that lies approximately between “i” and “u.”
• 2
  According to Indigenous teachers from Mapuera (SEDUC, 2003), yehtoponho means “history.” For Jaime Wai Wai (2022), pahxantho yehtopo means a history from a very ancient time. These definitions are adopted here to follow the translations made by Indigenous authors themselves of narratives that the anthropological literature classifies as “myths.”
• 3
  There is no word in the Wai Wai language that encompasses all types of toucans. Kwicikwici refers specifically to the species Ramphastos aurantiirostris (cf. Yde, 1965).
• 4
  Developed by A. Leroi-Gourhan (1964), the concept of chaîne opératoire (operational sequence) is widely used in archaeological, ethnoarchaeological, and anthropological research (see Lemonnier, 1992; Stark, 1998; Schlanger, 2007; Gosselain, 2018; Silva, 2019; Rodrigues, 2022b). In short, it helps organize knowledge about the sequence of technical operations, including gestures and tools, involved in selecting and processing specific materials until their gradual transformation into cultural products, encompassing, according to some approaches, from the use to the disposal of artifacts. From an ethnographic perspective, this concept helps shed light on the relationships and ethnoconceptions embedded in production processes, revealing the social dimensions of these techniques (Coupaye, 2017).
• 5
  Walter Roth was an officer of the Colonial Service of British Guiana, serving from 1906 as a Stipendiary Magistrate and Official Medical Officer. According to Whitehead (2008), Roth’s works (1924; 1929) are a series of systematic, rigorous, and exhaustive compendia on the arts and customs of the Indigenous peoples of Guiana. These works provided the foundation for other comparative studies, such as those of F. Boas (2014 [1927]) and B. Ribeiro (1985).
• 6
  Botanically, the rib (awcirî in the Wai Wai language) corresponds to the rachis of palm leaves.
• 7
  Twill plaiting, also referred to as diagonal crossed plaiting, “produces a diagonal effect by passing over two or more elements of the warp according to the formula 2/2, 3/3, etc.” (Ribeiro, 1985: 46).
• 8
  For a discussion on the transformation of artifacts into ethnographic objects, see, for example, Fabian (2004) and Velthem (2012).
• 9
  According to Hawkins (1962: 12), the suffixes -cho and -topo are equivalent in the Wai Wai language and can be attached to verbs to form nouns. They can convey meanings of agent, purpose, instrument, action, or place of action
• 10
  Fock (1963) provided only the narrative translated into English. It is likely that the word used by the narrator was wayapamsî.
• 11
  For further details, see, for example, Howard (2002) and Rodrigues (2022a).
• 12
  An exception consists of some specimens produced from the 1970s onward that are held in museums and were clearly made for exchange and/or sale. For further information on Wai Wai agency in the formation of ethnographic collections, see Rodrigues and Gaspar (2020).

Data Availability:

All data generated or analysed during this study are included in this published article.

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• Chief-Editor:
  Guilherme Moura Fagundes

• Associated Editor:
  Marta Rosa Amoroso

• Associated Editor:
  Ana Claudia Duarte Rocha Marques

Publication Dates

• Publication in this collection
  17 July 2026
• Date of issue
  2026

History

• Received
  14 Dec 2024
• Accepted
  15 Oct 2025